Page 58 of Made for Sinners

I hated him.

I hated him so much.

And yet, when his fingers tightened on my waist, when his breath ghosted over my skin, I didn’t pull away.

Icouldn’t.

I hated the way his words sent a shiver down my spine, the way his presence wrapped around me like a vice, suffocating and intoxicating all at once.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “You don’t get to say that,” I snapped, my voice shaking with something I refused to name. “Not when you were sitting there withher?—”

Dante’s smirk deepened, his grip on my waist firm as he pressed closer, his body a wall of heat against mine. “Is that what this is about?” he drawled, his lips brushing against my cheek, his breath warm against my skin. “You saw me with Valentina, and now you’re throwing a tantrum?”

I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I don’t care what you do,” I lied, my pulse hammering.

His chuckle was dark, knowing. “Liar.”

His hand slid lower, fingers pressing into the curve of my hip, his touch possessive, demanding. “Tell me,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress against my ear. “Did you sneak out just to see what I was doing? Or were you hoping I’d catch you?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my nails digging into his shirt. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over my jaw, “you can’t seem to stay away.”

I hated him.

I hated how easily he unraveled me, how effortlessly he turned my anger into something else entirely.

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against my hip, his touch burning through the thin barrier of my towel. “You don’t like seeing me with her,” he mused, his voice a dark whisper. “Do you?”

I swallowed hard, my body betraying me as heat coiled low in my stomach. “I don’t care,” I forced out, but the words rang hollow.

His hand moved again, sliding from my hip to my lower stomach, his touch deliberate,possessive.

I should have pushed him away.

I should have slapped him, screamed at him, told him to go to hell.

But I didn’t.

Because the truth was, Iwasjealous.

And Danteknew it.

And worse?

Heliked it.

Dante’s hand slid up, his fingers grazing the hem of my robe, his touch teasing, testing. “Say it,” he murmured, his voice rough with something dark, something dangerous.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Say what?”

His smirk was pure sin. “That you’re mine.”

I let out a shaky breath, my body betraying me as heat pooled low in my belly. “Go to hell.”

Dante chuckled, his fingers tightening on my waist as he pressed me back against the counter, his body flush against mine. “Already there, princess.”

And then his lips crashed against mine.

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