Page 42 of His Son's Ex

Dante breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. “You drive me insane,” he says, his voice husky.

I’m breathing hard, my mind spinning. “We can’t do this,” I murmur, even as I slide my hands over his broad chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

He presses another kiss to my jaw, trailing a path down my throat. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

I whimper, my head tilting back involuntarily. “Dante…”

His fingers twist in my hair, tugging gently to expose my neck. A million warnings blare in my head, but my body is beyond caring. He nips the sensitive skin where neck meets shoulder and I gasp. His hand roams my waist, slipping down to the curve of my hip. The friction of his fingers against my suit is maddening, every nerve ablaze. I can’t help but press closer, inhaling the electric tension.

He walks away, flipping the small lock on the door, then draws the blinds with a remote switch. The gentle hum of mechanized shades lowering envelops us in half-darkness.

When he comes back, the hunger in his gaze makes my knees nearly buckle. “I keep thinking about the way you sounded when you came apart,” he whispers. “I have been, ever since that night.”

My cheeks burn. “It was only supposed to be that one night.”

“Supposed to be,” he agrees, stepping so close I’m practically caged between his body and the desk. “But here we are.”

His mouth claims mine again, harder this time, and I melt against him. The desk edge digs into my backside, but I’m too caught up in the moment.

He breaks the kiss just enough to growl near my ear, “Tell me you want this.”

Yes.

The word roars in my mind, but I manage a breathless protest. “We can’t keep ignoring reality.”

He catches my lower lip between his teeth, sending a bolt of pure need through me. “We’ll deal with reality later.” His hand drifts up my side, brushing the underside of my breast. “Right now, I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name.”

A moan slides past my lips and my hands tangle in his hair, pulling him down for another kiss. This time, I’m the demanding one. I nibble at his lips, fueling the fire.

He lets out a satisfied growl as he slides his hand beneath my blazer, palming the curve of my waist. Every brush of his fingerssets my skin on fire. I’m half aware of my surroundings, my notes. Any second, they could scatter to the floor if we aren’t careful.

He senses my hesitation. “Worried about your brilliant strategy?”

“I don’t want to lose it.”

He grins against my lips, stepping back just enough to move the papers to the side with a quick motion, clearing space. “Now you won’t.”

His hands find the clasp of my pants and my body clenches with anticipation.

He cups my chin, his eyes searching mine. “We can stop if you want to.”

I stare at him, my breaths coming in shallow bursts. The memory of that night crashes over me—the exquisite high, the raw intimacy, the mind-blowing desire.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

A pleased growl rumbles in his throat. He captures my mouth again, his tongue stroking mine in a dance that makes me dizzy. He presses me back against the desk, the edge digging into my thighs. I brace my hands on his shoulders, reveling in the hard muscle beneath my palms.

His mouth leaves mine to trail hot, urgent kisses down my neck, nibbling at my collarbone. My blazer slides off in an instant, his hand slipping beneath my blouse, grazing bare skin. I gasp, arching into him.

“Eva…”

I tug at the buttons of his shirt, undoing enough of them so I can feel his chest beneath my palms. My pulse roars in my ears, every sense sharpened by the knowledge that we’re in a high-powered corporate office; anyone could knock on the door at any moment. We’re crossing lines we can’t uncross.

But God, do I want this.

He groans when my nails scrape lightly over his skin, and I feel him shudder against me. The sound causes something to stir within me, something primal, desperate. He pushes me back against the desk, but instead of giving in to the obvious demand of our bodies, Dante drops to his knees.

My breath stutters.

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