Page 39 of Do It For Me
“Are you completely sure?”
“Yes.”
He sighs, though a soft laugh escapes him as he shakes his head and starts the engine.
“You’ll get us into trouble, sweetheart.”
I didn’t expect him to live in a place like this. Certainly not a mansion, but maybe something bigger.
He has a bedroom and a small bathroom. The kitchen blends into the living room, where there’s a sofa and a modest coffee table in the middle. On the balcony, there’s a single large plant I don’t recognise, but it looks pretty. His bedroom has a king-size bed, some simple furniture, and a closet.
Everything is spotless. Does he clean, or does someone do it for him?
“I know it’s not much,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But when we get married, I’ll take you somewhere better.”
I turn to him and smile. “It’s not bad. Besides, I don’t care about that. I just need you.”
His eyes brighten, and my heart flutters all over again. He steps closer, his warmth wrapping around me as he presses a soft kiss to my hair.
“You deserve better,” he murmurs. “I’d give you the moon if I could.”
“I haven’t done anything to deserve that,” I reply quietly.
He shakes his head, his hand grazing my waist. “You are a person. You exist. That’s reason enough,ragnetta.”
I close my eyes and sigh, pressing my head to his chest. But a warning flashes in my mind, and I freeze, realising the situation I’m in.
I’m alone in his house—my fiancé’s house. He could hurt me. Beat me. Even kill me, and no one would know.
Trust him.
“I don’t bite,” he whispers.
Oh, God. Does he know I’m scared?
“Unless you ask me to,” he adds, and it sounds as if he’s smiling.
I could stop this now. I could walk away, end it before it begins… But I don’t want to. I want tobewith him, I want to give him my trust.
I look up until I catch his smiling face, my fingers trembling as they reach the buttons of his shirt. He watches me intently. Heat pools low in my belly, and my chest feels heavier.
I want him to touch me. To consume me. To make me his… But even though I’ve started this, he doesn’t move.
“I think I’ll accept a few bites,” I whisper.
His eyes flicker, and a grin spreads across his lips. “You want me to touch you?”
I swallow hard and nod.
It’s like flipping a switch. One of his hands darts to my neck, pulling me toward him with an urgency that takes my breath away. His kiss is demanding, possessive. My own hands are moving on their own, fumbling with his shirt.
We stumble clumsily toward the bedroom, tossing our clothes aside. I help him with my trousers while he kisses me and pulls his down.
My heart is racing so fast I feel my pulse everywhere. I wonder if he can feel it when he unclasps my bra and makes me sit on the edge of the bed to take off my knickers.
I do everything he wants me to; my brain is burning with the heat of the moment. But then Dante steps away from me.
We both trail our eyes over each other’s bodies. He’s down to his boxers, and his erection is straining against the fabric. He’s got even more tattoos and scars on his torso, even on his thighs, though the one that catches my eyes is a statue of a woman surrounded by flowers I don’t recognise.
