Page 100 of Auctioned Innocence
But that kiss was desperate, interrupted, stolen in a moment of terror.
This is different.
This is choice.
This is Sofia choosing me despite everything, despite the danger, despite Marco’s inevitable fury.
Her lips are soft, perfect, everything I’ve imagined and more.
When she opens for me, when her tongue meets mine, I groan against her mouth like a man dying.
She kisses me back with the same fierce intensity she showed in the fight—no hesitation, no holding back.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, deeper, until there’s no space left between us.
I can feel her heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
This is what I’ve wanted for years.
This heat, this passion, this perfect woman in my arms kissing me like the world is ending.
Because maybe it is.
Maybe we’re both going to die in the next few hours, and this is all we get.
I press her harder against the stone wall, my hands mapping the curves of her body through her clothes.
She arches into me, and the soft sound she makes breaks what’s left of my control.
I want to strip her bare right here, want to claim her in ways that would horrify her brother, want to?—
My phone rings.
We freeze, breathing hard against each other’s mouths.
The ringtone cuts through the silence like a blade—Mario’s emergency line.
The one Marco doesn’t know about, the one that reminds me who I really work for when everything else falls apart.
Reality crashes back down around us. Bodies on the floor. Blood on the walls. Somewhere out there, more enemies hunt us.
“Answer it,” Sofia whispers against my lips, but her hands don’t leave my chest nor push me away.
I keep her pinned against the wall with my body as I answer, unable to step away.
Unable to break the contact that feels like the only real thing in a world gone insane.
“Report,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t crack.
Mario’s voice comes through, tight with tension and something that sounds like barely controlled fury. “Marco’s been shot.”
The world seems to slow, freezing the blood in my veins.
Sofia must read the shock on my face because her hands tighten on my shirt, her eyes going wide with fear that mirrors my own.
“How bad?” I force the words out through a throat that’s suddenly tight.
“He’ll live,” Mario says quickly, and I feel Sofia’s body sag with relief against me. “He’s alive, but Jesus, Dante, it was close. Too fucking close. Shoulder, but the shooter knew what he was doing.”
