Page 132 of Rosetti Family New York
I don’t pull away. I can’t.
“Then stop fighting it,” I breathe, locking my gaze on his.
And God help me—he does.
He pulls me to him, closing the final inches between us, the untamed heat of his body banishing the night air. I feel the coiled strength beneath his cool exterior, and when his mouth claims mine, it’s like a dam breaking. It’s like dying and coming back to life all at once.
His hand releases my wrist, and I expect him to push me away again, to say we’ve gone too far. But he doesn’t. He never does what I expect. Instead, his arms encircle me, a ferocity in them I’ve never known this close. Usually, it’s violent passion or tenderness that melts away by morning.
I sink into the kiss, losing myself in it, feeling the ache of his restraint turn into something wild and unstoppable. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and the world narrows to this moment. The city’s hum fades to nothing.
He’s all I hear, all I feel—my whole universe.
When his lips leave mine, I think for a moment he’s changed his mind, that the old hesitation is creeping back. But then his mouth is on my neck, murmuring my name like it’s a secret he can’t keep anymore.
“Besiana.”
He breathes me in, and I feel his chest rise, the quick rhythm of it beating against mine. No space left between us, nothing but our tangled heartbeats and the wind howling around us as we burn.
With a suddenness that makes us both gasp, he yanks himself back, eyes dark, smoldering, like he's already shaking with the effort to regain control.
“Dom,” I say, the plea in my voice unmistakable.
I shiver as he looks at me, as if deciding whether to surrender to this again or walk away. His hands are still on my arms, and they send heat blazing through me.
He surges forward, and our mouths collide once more, the warmth and longing washing over us. I cling to him. Nothing else exists. Nothing matters.
I kiss him back with everything I’ve been holding in. All the fear, the confusion, the way his absence hollowed me out. My hands slide up his chest, fingers twisting in his jacket, pulling him closer.
He breaks away first, just enough to breathe against my mouth.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he rasps.
“Yes,” I breathe, “I do.”
He exhales shakily, forehead pressing to mine.
I sense his determination slipping, the last of his walls crumbling between us. His closeness is a firestorm, melting the cold edges of the night.
“I’m not a good man, Besiana,” he says like an apology, his voice tattered and raw.
“You’re my man.”
That does something to him.
His whole body reacts, his arms tightening to bring me even closer. Then we’re moving, his jacket falling off his shoulders,my back pressed to the stone wall, cool against my spine as his mouth finds mine again, slower this time. Possessive. Thorough.
“You’re not getting space after this,” he murmurs against my neck, his breath raising goosebumps along my skin. “You’re not getting distance. You’re mine now.”
“I already was.”
The admission sends a shiver through him, and he groans low in his chest.
He groans low in his chest and kisses me like he’s sealing a vow with his teeth.
But then—because he’s Dom—he stops. Just before the point of no return. His breathing is rough, his hands still on my hips, his eyes dark as obsidian.
“I’ll protect you, Besiana. With everything I have. Even from myself.”
