Page 92 of Auctioned Innocence
Less like the deadly enforcer everyone fears and more like…just a man.
A beautiful, dangerous man who’s spent the day patiently helping me piece myself back together.
He hands me a water bottle, his fingers brushing mine for just a moment.
The touch sends heat spiraling through me despite the cool air.
He smells like soap and clean sweat and something uniquely him—something masculine and reassuring that makes me want to curl up against his chest and breathe him in.
“You did good today,” he says quietly, his gray eyes warm with approval as they study my face.
There’s stubble along his jaw that I want to trace with my fingertips, and his mouth…
God, hismouth.
I remember exactly how it felt against mine in that motel room, hungry and desperate and perfect.
For a moment, I can almost pretend we’re just on a normal vacation.
A couple enjoying the mountain air, the peaceful silence, the way the afternoon light plays across his features and makes his eyes look like storm clouds.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Dante asks, and there’s something in his voice—a gentleness that makes my chest ache.
I could pretend that the tension between us is just ordinary attraction instead of this complicated tangle of desire and trauma and years of forbidden want.
But sitting here with him, watching the way his eyes soften when he looks at me, I can’t ignore the history between us anymore.
“I was thinking about the library,” I say before I can stop myself. “Last Christmas.”
His whole body goes still. “Sofia…”
“You were going to kiss me.” It’s not a question. “Before Marco interrupted.”
He winces. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“But you wanted to.” I turn to face him fully. “Like you wanted to at my birthday party. And that day by the pool.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, staring out at the mountains. “Your nineteenth birthday party. You wore that blue dress.”
“You remember what I wore?” My heart skips.
Dante laughs but it isn’t one of amusement.
“I remember everything.” His voice is rough. “How you laughed when Uncle Lorenzo told that terrible joke. How you kept glancing at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. How I had to leave early because watching you was driving me insane.”
I’d wondered why he’d disappeared that night.
Marco had made some excuse about business, but I’d seen the way Dante’s jaw had clenched when I’d danced with Leo Castellano.
“And the pool?”
“You’d been swimming laps.” His eyes are dark with memory. “I was supposed to be checking the perimeter, but I couldn’t stop watching you. The way the water moved around you, how graceful you were. When you asked me to help with your stroke…”
I remember that.
How his hands felt on my waist, guiding me.
How I’d pressed back against him deliberately, feeling his sharp intake of breath.
