CARA’S POV The spell broke instantly.
The heat gave way to a sudden, icy jolt of reality.
I shoved him in the chest and scrambled off the bed, pulling down my shirt and smoothing my hair, refusing to meet his eyes.
My whole body was still throbbing with a dull, lingering ache, and I hated myself for it.
I heard him step off the mattress and stride toward the door.
The latch clicked open and shut; a moment later, I heard his deep voice behind me.
“Take off your jacket.” “No way,” I snapped, turning around and clutching the fabric against my chest.
“I’m not going to lay a hand on you,” he said, his jaw tight as he visibly struggled to restrain himself.
“I’m just going to treat your arm.” My gaze dropped to his fly.
The prominent bulge visible beneath his jeans proved that the interruption hadn’t done anything to cool his arousal.
Something deep in my belly tightened at the sight, and I hated myself even more for noticing.
“Give it to me.
I can do it myself,” I whispered, staring fixedly at the floor.
My heart was still hammering against my ribs; my nipples ached, sensitive, and the friction against my lace bra sent tiny electric shocks across my skin.
Every spot where his body had pressed against mine still burned faintly with a heat I couldn’t seem to shake.
Dante closed the distance in two quick strides, tossed the metal case onto the nightstand, and grabbed my wrist.
He didn’t hurt me, but his grip was firm and unyielding as he pulled me to the edge of the bed.
“I won’t touch you,” he murmured, gently pushing me down before leaning close to my face.
“Unless you ask me to.” A crooked, arrogant smile played on his lips, masking the intensity of his gaze.
“Don’t hold your breath,” I whispered, though the words came out weaker than I’d intended.
“I’ve got time,” he said, his voice low and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to watch me squirm.
A flash of anger surged through me, especially knowing how close I’d come to actually asking him.
He moved quickly, slipping the jacket off my shoulders.
As the adrenaline rush faded, I finally felt the stinging pain in my forearm.
Dante sat beside me; his long fingers moved with surprising dexterity as he uncapped the antiseptic.
I winced when the liquid stung the wound, but his touch was light and precise as he firmly bandaged the raw skin.
His proximity didn’t help matters at all.
His clean, warm scent filled my lungs with every breath, and I had to fight the urge to lean toward him.
“Thanks,” I murmured, cradling my arm.
He gave a brief nod, avoiding eye contact as he put the supplies away.
He stood up and walked over to the dresser, leaning against it with his hands gripping the edge and his head tilted back.
He looked relaxed, though the air around him hummed with a latent, pent-up energy.
His chest rose and fell with deep, deliberate breaths, and I found myself watching the movement, unable to look away.
“Who were those men at the cemetery?” His deep voice broke the silence.
“I have a lot of enemies,” I replied in a neutral tone.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” ” I already told you, anything that concerns you is now my business.” His eyes, dark and unreadable, shifted to mine.
“You just don’t want to believe it yet.” “That’s not for you to decide.” “I’ve already decided.” One corner of his mouth curled into a look that fell just short of a smile.
“You simply haven’t caught up yet.” The silence stretched on, heavy and stifling.
I swallowed hard; my mouth was dry.
Dante stepped away from the dresser and walked to where I was sitting.
With every slow step, my heart hammered against my ribs.
He stopped right between my parted knees, leaned down, and hooked a finger under my chin, forcing me to lift my face to his.
“It takes every ounce of my willpower not to throw you onto this bed right now and take what I want,” he purred, his thumb tracing my lower lip until it parted slightly.
An intense wave of heat pooled low in my belly.
“Then why don’t you?” I whispered, holding his gaze without flinching.
“Or are you all talk?” His eyes darkened, a wild glint igniting within them.
“Be careful, Cara.
If you keep talking like that, I’ll take it as an invitation.” “I don’t give invitations,” I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat as my breath hitched.
“If you want something from me, you’ll have to earn it.” I stared at him, holding my breath as his finger traced a path along my neck.
My pulse raced wildly beneath his touch, and I was certain he could feel it; he could probably hear exactly what his single glance was doing to me.
“Do you think you can just walk into my life and do whatever you want?” I whispered, trying to sound defiant, though my voice came out soft and breathless.
“I don’t think so, Cara.
I know so,” Dante growled.
He planted a knee on the mattress between my thighs, parting them as he leaned in to pin me down.
His large hands slid to my hips, his fingers digging into my skin to hold me firmly against the bed.
“The moment those men went after you, you became my business.” Our eyes locked, our breathing was the only sound in the room, until a knock at the door shattered the tension.
Dante froze against me, a silent curse rolling off his lips.
He lingered for a heartbeat longer, his gaze lingering on my mouth, before releasing my hips and pushing himself up.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding as he stepped back, ran a hand through his thick brown hair, and strode toward the entrance.
Cursing under his breath, he yanked the door open, revealing the same surly-looking guard.
“The package is ready downstairs, Boss.” Dante shot me one last stern look over his shoulder.
“Stay here.” As soon as the door clicked shut, silence settled over me in heavy and suffocating clumps.
My body was still humming from his touch; my skin burned where his hands had been, and a wave of sickening guilt washed over me.
What am I doing?
My brother is out there, terrified, in the hands of monsters, and here I am, letting myself get swept up by a dangerous stranger.
My eyes stung as panic tightened my chest, threatening to bring me to my knees.
Shaking off that spiral of thoughts, I ran to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains, hoping to find an escape route, only to be crushed by disappointment when I saw steel bars blocking the frame.
Ten agonizing minutes of pure torture passed before I approached the wooden door and pounded on it with my fist.
“I need to see Dante.” “He said for you to stay there,” the guard growled.
“Take me to him right now, or I’ll scream and tell him you laid a hand on me.” The lock turned, just as I knew it would.
He escorted me down the hallway just as violent shouts echoed from below.
I froze by the railing, watching Dante arguing furiously with his brother Rico in the living room; his rage exploded as he shoved the other man roughly against the sofa.
A sharp gasp escaped my throat.
Dante snapped his head toward the sound, raw, lethal fury burning in his eyes.