I'M HIS ALONE

CHAPTER 13

CLOSER

They didn't make love that night.

Dante got them to the couch, got her half-undressed, his hands and mouth mapping every inch of exposed skin with a reverence that made her tremble. But when he reached for the button of her jeans, he paused, his breathing ragged, his forehead pressed against hers.

"I can't," he whispered, his voice tortured. "Not like this. Not when you're still uncertain, when you might regret it in the morning."

"Dante, I want you—"

"I know. And I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. But Bella—" He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire and something else—fear, maybe. Fear of ruining this, of moving too fast, of breaking the fragile trust they had built. "When I take you for the first time, I want it to be perfect. I want you to be absolutely, completely sure. No doubts, no hesitation, no second-guessing. Because once we're together, there's no undoing it. Not for me."

Bella stared at him, this man who had taken her by force but was now holding back out of respect for her feelings. The contradiction was staggering. "You're being surprisingly noble for a kidnapper."

Dante laughed, the sound rough and strained. "I'm trying to be the man you deserve, Bella. Even when every instinct I have is screaming to claim you, to make you mine in the most primal way possible." He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips—soft, chaste kisses that somehow felt more intimate than anything else they'd done. "When we do this—and we will, Bella, I promise you that—it will be because you choose it. Because you want me as much as I want you. Because you can't imagine spending another night without me inside you."

Bella shivered at his words, the explicit promise sending heat pooling between her thighs. "And when will that be?"

"Soon," he promised, his voice dropping to a register that made her toes curl. "Very soon. I'm only human, Bella. And my restraint has limits."

He helped her dress, his fingers lingering on her skin with obvious reluctance, and walked her back to her room. At her door, he kissed her deeply, thoroughly, leaving her breathless and wanting.

"Goodnight, my beautiful Persephone," he murmured against her lips. "Dream of me."

Then he was gone, and Bella leaned against her closed door, her heart racing, her body aching with unfulfilled need.

She did dream of him. Dreams where his hands were everywhere, his mouth on her most intimate places, his body moving inside hers with a rhythm that made her wake up gasping and wet and desperate for something she didn't yet have.

The next morning, she found him in the gym, beating the hell out of a punching bag. He was shirtless, wearing only black workout pants that hung low on his hips, and the sight of him literally stopped Bella in her tracks.

His body was a work of art. Broad shoulders, defined chest, abs that looked carved from marble. Scars crisscrossed his torso—evidence of a life lived violently—but they only added to his dangerous appeal. His muscles bunched and flexed as he punched the bag, each strike delivered with precision and power, sweat glistening on his skin in the morning light.

Bella stood in the doorway, mesmerized, watching him move with the grace of a predator. He must have sensed her presence because he turned, his eyes finding hers, and the heat in his gaze made her knees weak.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, a smirk playing at his lips.

"It's... adequate," she managed, her voice breathier than she intended.

Dante laughed, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his face. "Adequate? I'll have to try harder, then." He walked toward her, close enough that she could smell him—sweat and musk and something uniquely male. "What brings you to my gym so early, Bella? Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept fine," she lied. "I just wanted to... explore."

"Explore." He stepped closer, crowding her against the doorframe. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Dante—" she started, but he cut her off with a kiss.

It was a different kind of kiss from the night before—rawer, more primal, flavored with sweat and desire. His body was hot against hers, still damp from his workout, and she could feel every hard plane of him pressing into her softer curves. His hands gripped her waist, lifting her slightly so she could feel the hard length of his arousal straining against his pants.

"You dreamed about me last night," he murmured against her lips. Not a question. A statement.

"How did you know?"

"Because I dreamed about you. Because I woke up hard and aching and desperate to be inside you." His teeth nipped at her lower lip, making her gasp. "Tell me what I did to you in your dreams, Bella. Tell me how I made you feel."

"I can't—"

"Tell me." His hand slid down her back, cupping her ass, pulling her tighter against him. "Tell me, and I'll make it real. Every fantasy, every desire. I'll give you all of it."

Bella's head fell back against the doorframe as his lips traced her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat. "You touched me," she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them. "Everywhere. With your hands, your mouth..."

"Where?" Dante's breath was hot against her skin. "Where did I touch you, Bella?"

"Everywhere," she gasped as his hand slid up her thigh, pushing her skirt higher. "God, Dante, everywhere."

His fingers found the edge of her panties, and this time he didn't stop. He stroked her through the thin fabric, feeling how wet she was, and the groan that rumbled from his chest was the sexiest sound she had ever heard.

"You're soaked," he breathed, his eyes dark with hunger. "Soaked for me, Bella. Only for me."

"Dante, please—"

"Please what? Tell me what you want."

She looked at him, this beautiful, dangerous man who had consumed her thoughts since the moment they met, and let go of the last of her reservations.

"I want you to make me yours," she whispered. "Completely. Tonight. No more waiting."

Dante's eyes flared with triumph and desire, and he captured her mouth in a kiss that was a promise and a threat and a declaration of ownership all at once.

"Tonight," he vowed against her lips. "And Bella—" He pulled back, his expression serious, intense. "Once I have you, there's no going back. I'll be obsessed. Possessive. Completely, utterly consumed by you. Are you prepared for that?"

Bella looked into his eyes and saw her future—dark and dangerous and undeniably thrilling.

"Yes," she breathed. "I'm prepared."

---