Page 47 of Savage Devotion

"It's strange," she says softly. "I've spent a lifetime being paraded through properties like this. Showcased at my father's side at business gatherings disguised as social events. Yet I never really saw them."

She turns to face me, moonlight silvering her features.

"The strategic positioning on high ground. The limited access roads. The clear sight lines. The reinforced entry points. It's all planned, isn't it? Every tiny detail of our world?"

A laugh escapes me, genuine amusement warming my chest.

"You know… most women would notice the sunset, the flowers, the architecture."

"I'm not most women," she replies simply.

"No," I agree, reaching to brush a strand of hair from her face. "You're becoming something far more dangerous."

Her eyes hold mine, and before those pink lips move to respond, I close the distance between us, claiming her mouth with mine.

Unlike the violent possession in the château alcove, this kiss holds a different quality. Still demanding, still dominant, but with an edge of something I refuse to name.

Her hands move to my chest, feeling the thundering of my heart beneath her fingertips.

"Dante," she whispers, my name a question on her lips.

Instead of answering, I lift her into my arms, carrying her through the terrace doors to the waiting bed. Her body fits against mine perfectly, her arms around my neck neither resisting nor submitting.

I lay her against the sheets, standing back to simply look at her. In the dim light, with her hair spread across the pillows, she appears both vulnerable and powerful.

A contradiction that mirrors my own conflicted desires for what I see in this woman.

"What happens now?" she asks, voice steady despite the heat in her gaze.

"Now," I say, removing my watch with deliberate slowness, "we finish what began in Paris."

I strip methodically, watching her watch me. I catch the flare of desire in her eyes as my chest is revealed, the quick intake of breath as I step out of my trousers. When I stand naked before her, my arousal evident and unashamed, her tongue darts out to wet her lips in unconscious invitation.

"Your turn," I command.

She rises to her knees on the bed, holding my gaze as she reaches for the zipper of her dress. The fabric slides from her shoulders with tantalizing slowness, revealing inch by inch of pale skin I've come to crave.

When she's as bare as I am, I join her on the bed, my larger frame caging her against the mattress.

My hands explore her soft skin. The curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip.

"Mine," I murmur against her throat, teeth scraping lightly over her racing pulse.

"Prove it," she challenges, nails dragging down my back with just enough pressure to border on the pain that makes me feel alive.

The invitation ignites something primal within me.

I capture her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand while the other slides between her thighs, sinking into her pussy, finding her already wet and ready for me.

"Is this what you want?" I ask, fingers escaping to circle her clit. "To be claimed by a monster? To be fucked until you can't remember your name, only mine?"

Her hips arch into my touch, seeking more. "I want you to stop talking and show me whatyouwant."

I grip my cock, a brutal, punishing hold, stroking from base to tip. Francesca's eyes follow the movement, her breath hitching as she watches me struggle to maintain my own desire.

Her gaze is like a flame on my skin. I can see the pulse in her neck, fluttering like a trapped bird.

"Are you ready, princess?" My voice is barely human. "Ready to lose this virginity your family guarded so fiercely? Ready to bleed for me, like I'd bleed for you?"

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