Page 58 of Unorthodox
“What is wrong with all of you?” I throw up both of my hands. “What’s wrong with you that you scurry around this house like fucking mice? You ask, ‘how high’ when Max says fucking ‘jump’. Don’t you have a mind of your own? Don’t you want to do things besides kiss his ass? Don’t you have dreams for your own life? Or are you always going to be nothing more than hisslave?”
For a moment, nothing happens.
My chest is heaving, and Dante looks as if he’s clenching his jaw so tight, he might crack his teeth. And when he uncrosses his arms and lifts one hand, I feel certain he’s going to hit me. I’m ready for it, because I’m going to hit him back.
He has no real power over me.
He can’t sell me.
He won’t kill me, because Max would lose money on me.
I want this fight.
I’m tensed, ready for it, hands balled into fists at my side, every muscle in my body coiled for this.
But when his fingertips graze the side of my face instead, when his touch is soft and gentle andcontained, and when he leans forward and his mouth comes crashing over mine, I don’t know how to react.
I’m frozen. My mind is blank.
His tongue flicks along the seam of my lips and they part for him, even though I have no control. My body just reacts, and my brain seems to…turn off.
His other hand comes around my waist as he yanks me toward him, and my body is flush against his. He’s bulky muscle and blazing heat and his mouth is skillful, his tongue gentle as it twirls along mine.
His hand on my face comes to my hair, threading through my strands and pulling just slightly, tipping my head up, giving him better access to my mouth.
Despite what I’ve done—with Max, with my father and his men, with someone else I should’ve never touched like this—this feels like my first, real kiss.
And just like that, thoughts of Max making my head spin even as I lean into Dante, I know what I need to do.
My mantra of,someone will come for me,turns tosomeone is already here for me.
My fingers go to his hair, wrapping around the base of his neck as I push further into him. He concedes a step, his back against the wall.
His hands go lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my sweats. He turns his head to catch his breath, and my mouth is on his jaw. I flick my tongue there, up, toward his ear as I stand on my tiptoes to reach him.
His fingers tighten against my skin and I feel him panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his cock hard against my stomach.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he manages to say as I kiss behind his ear, the side of his neck, having to pull him down toward me.
“We should,” I insist. “Don’t stop.”
He groans, and turns his head back to me, reaching up with one hand to grab my face. His mouth is on mine again and when he pushes me toward my room, I go willingly, stepping backward, our lips never leaving one another.
He reaches behind me, opens my door and we crash into the wall as we stumble inside. I keep walking backward, my hands coming to his face as I pull him with me.
When the back of my legs hit the bed, he freezes, tearing his mouth away from mine. I lock my hands behind his neck, unwilling to let him go.
We stare at one another, his brow pressed to mine, his lips swollen and red.
I say nothing, letting him make this decision, but if he makes the wrong one…well, Max isn’t the only person in this house who’s good at playing mind games.
This is it.
This is the way out.
If I fuck him, he’ll help me. He’ll get me out of here.This is it.
I don’t know where I’ll go. I have no idea what I can do when I leave here. Danik isn’t an option. My father isn’t an option.
