Page 53 of Shadows of Steel
“Amusing.” He murmurs, stepping back just enough to grant the illusion of space, to make me believe, for a fleeting second, that I’ve won.
Then, in one swift motion, he seizes me.
A startled gasp escapes my lips as the world tilts violently. Before I can react, I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my body helpless against his unyielding strength. He strides out of the room as if I weigh nothing at all.
“Dante, release me this instant!” I demand, fists striking his back in futile protest.
“I think not.” he responds smoothly, utterly unruffled. He strides into the master bedroom with purpose, kicking the door shut behind us before finally setting me back on my feet.
I stumble slightly, regaining my balance as I glare up at him. “What the fuck—"
“You’re staying. Don’t make me repeat myself.” He cuts in, his tone edged with finality.
I fold my arms, levelling him with a glare. “You’re a damn barbarian. You tore the door off its hinges, and it wasn’t even locked!”
His lips curl into a dangerous smirk laced with venom. “Yeah? Next time, I’ll do more than just break a door. So don’t give me a reason to.”
I huff. “One might think you actually want to share a bed with me. How flattering.”
Dante scoffs, stepping closer, his voice rich with amusement. “Don’t fool yourself. This is about appearances. It wouldn’t look good if my wife were sleeping anywhere but in my bed.”
His words convey one sentiment, but his actions speak quite another.
He continues to observe me, his gaze dark and unwavering. I exhale sharply, shaking my head as if it might dispel the tension thickening the air between us. “Enough of this. I’m going to take a shower, I simply don’t have the energy to prolong this conversation any further.” But in truth, exhaustion isn’t the only reason. Deep down, I know this isn’t a fight I’ll win.
Ready to disappear into the bathroom, I take a step backward, creating distance between us. “Turn around.” Dante commands.
I freeze.
The weight of his words settles over me, heavy, inescapable. Slowly, I turn, offering him my back.
I don’t see him, but I feel his presence, the heat radiating between us. Then, his fingers brush against my spine, a featherlight touch that finds the zipper of my dress. Excruciatingly slow, he pulls it down.
The fabric loosens, slipping from my body, but all I can focus on is the ghost of his knuckles grazing my spine. The touch is barely there, light, teasing, yet my pussy clenches with need, a wave of heat pulsing low in my belly.
Fuck.
My jaw clenches. Pathetic. He barely touches me, and still, my body responds as if he owns it. The realization irritates me almost as much as the slow way he moves, as if he already knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
As the dress slips from my body, pooling at my feet in a whisper of silk, I’m left in nothing but a delicate white lace thong and a matching bra, barely enough to cover me. I step free of the fabric and turn to face him.
His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking. His eyes darken, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface.
Heat. Hunger.
It’s unmistakable, raw, unguarded, etched into the hard lines of his face.
I swallow hard, motioning toward the door. “I’m going to—”
Before I can take a step, Dante’s fingers weave into my hair, gripping the back of my head with a force that leaves no room for resistance. He yanks me forward, dragging me into him, and our bodies collide, chest to chest, heat against heat.
And then, his mouth crashes against mine.
For the third time today.
A kiss that is anything but gentle. Hungry. Consuming. A raw, unrelenting claim.
A groan rumbles from his chest as he deepens the kiss, his grip in my hair tightening. His other hand trails down my side, skimming over my ribs before cupping my breast, his thumb grazing over the lace. He lingers there for a moment, teasing, before continuing lower, gliding over my stomach, descending with unspoken intent.
