Page 83 of Auctioned Innocence
My fingers tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer as his hands slide up my back, pressing me against him until there’s no space left between us.
When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open for him eagerly, and the groan that rumbles from his chest sends heat spiraling through me.
When we break for air, we’re both breathing hard.
His eyes are dark with want and something deeper, something that looks like reverence and terror all at once. “We should stop.”
“Should we?” I shift against him deliberately, feeling the hard evidence of his desire beneath me, and his grip on my waisttightens almost painfully. “Or should we stop pretending this isn’t what we both want?”
He searches my face for any sign of hesitation, any indication that I’m not sure.
But I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I kiss him again, softer this time, tasting the corner of his mouth, the sharp line of his jaw.
“Sofia,” he breathes my name like a prayer, and then he’s kissing me, slow and intense.
His hands map my body with reverent touches—tracing the curve of my waist, the line of my spine, the sensitive skin at the base of my throat that makes me gasp and arch against him.
When he flips us over in one smooth motion, laying me back on the bed with careful strength, I feel beautiful despite the cheap motel room, despite my torn dress and tangled hair.
The way he looks at me—like I’m precious, like I’m everything he’s ever wanted—makes my heart race for entirely different reasons than fear.
His mouth trails down my throat, finding that spot where my pulse beats wild and frantic.
When he nips gently at the sensitive skin, I can’t hold back the soft moan that escapes me.
His answering growl vibrates against my collarbone as his hands work at the zipper of my ruined dress.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice rough with want. “So perfect. I’ve wanted this—wantedyou—for so long.”
My response is lost as his lips find the hollow of my throat, as his hands skimming along skin he’s baring inch by agonizing inch. Every touch sets me on fire, every kiss makes me ache for more.
But just as his mouth finds the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, just as his hand slides up my bare ribs tocup my breast through the satin of my bra, my phone buzzes against the nightstand. The harsh electronic sound cuts through the moment like a knife.
Marco’s name flashes on the screen.
Reality crashes back like a bucket of ice water.
Dante helps me steady my shaking hands enough to answer, his own breathing ragged as he pulls back.
“Sofia? Thank god.” Marco’s voice is frantic, tight with worry that makes my chest ache. “Are you okay? We lost contact after Vincent dropped you off.”
“I’m okay,” I assure him quickly, trying to keep my voice steady despite everything. “We’re both okay. Mostly.”
“Listen to me carefully,” Marco’s tone sharpens to the authority voice that means immediate danger. “They’re tracking our phones. All of them.
The traitor has access to our entire communication network. You need to ditch your phones and go completely dark. Now.”
Dante’s already moving, grabbing our phones and heading for the bathroom.
Through the thin walls, I can hear engines revving in the parking lot. Multiple vehicles, moving with purpose.
“How long have they been—” I start to ask, but Marco cuts me off.
“Probably since the beginning. Every call, every text, every location ping.” His tone is grim with implications I don’t want to think about. “Burn your phones. Destroy them completely. I’ll find another way to contact you.”
“Marco—”
“No time. Get out. Now. And Sofia?” His voice softens for just a moment. “I love you. Stay alive.”
