I'M HIS ALONE

CHAPTER 16

THE BEDROOM

Morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Dante's bedroom, casting golden stripes across the silk sheets and the two bodies tangled within them. Bella woke slowly, her body aching in places she hadn't known could ache, her limbs heavy with a satisfaction so profound it bordered on religious.

She was sore. Deliciously, thoroughly sore.

The memories of the night before flooded back in vivid, Technicolor detail—Dante's mouth on her, his body moving inside hers, the way he had made her scream his name until her voice went hoarse. She had never experienced anything like it. Her previous s****l encounters had been pleasant enough, but they had been nothing compared to the raw, consuming passion Dante had unleashed in her.

She turned her head to find him watching her, his gray eyes soft with an emotion that made her chest tighten.

"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning." She felt suddenly shy, vulnerable in the morning light after the intimacy they had shared. "How long have you been awake?"

"Awhile. I've been watching you sleep." He reached out, tracing her cheek with gentle fingers. "You're stunning when you sleep. Peaceful. Like an angel."

"I'm not an angel, Dante. Not after last night."

His lips curved in a slow, wicked smile. "No. Last night, you were very, very far from angelic." He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Last night, you were a goddess. My goddess. And I worshipped every inch of you."

Bella shivered as his hand slid down her body, cupping her breast, his thumb circling her n****e until it hardened beneath his touch. "Again?"

"Always," he breathed, rolling her beneath him. "I will always want you, Bella. Morning, noon, night. In bed, in the shower, against every wall in this house. I will never get enough of you. Never."

He entered her slowly, gently, their bodies moving together with a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. This time was different from the night before—slower, deeper, more intimate. Dante made love to her with a reverence that brought tears to her eyes, his eyes locked on hers, his hands cradling her face like she was the most precious thing in his world.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips, the words escaping before he could stop them. "I know it's too soon. I know you don't feel the same. But I love you, Bella. I have since the moment I saw you."

Bella's heart stuttered. "Dante—"

"Don't say it back. Not until you mean it." He kissed her softly, his hips rolling against hers in a pace that was driving her slowly, exquisitely insane. "Just let me love you. Let me show you how much you mean to me."

He brought her to the edge with agonizing patience, his body moving in deep, deliberate strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside her. When she finally came, it was with his name on her lips and his promise in her ears, her body clenching around him as he followed her over the edge with a groan that sounded like surrender.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, their hearts slowing in unison. Dante's hand traced lazy patterns on her back, his lips pressed against her forehead in a constant, gentle kiss.

"Stay with me today," he murmured. "Don't go back to your room. Stay in my bed, in my arms. Let me pretend, just for today, that this is our life. That you wake up beside me every morning. That you're truly mine."

Bella closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the fantasy. "Okay," she whispered. "Just for today."

───

It was three days before Bella returned to her own room. Three days of intense, passionate lovemaking interspersed with quiet conversations, shared meals, and moments of startling tenderness. Dante was insatiable—taking her in the morning when they first woke, in the afternoon during stolen moments, at night until they were both too exhausted to move. He explored her body with the dedication of a scholar, learning every sensitive spot, every trigger, every way to make her scream his name.

And Bella discovered that she was just as hungry for him. She initiated as often as he did, reaching for him in the dark, straddling him when he was trying to work, whispering filthy promises in his ear that made him lose all control.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman," Dante groaned one afternoon, as she rode him slowly on the couch in his study, her breasts bouncing in his face, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders.

"But what a way to go," she panted, her nails digging into his chest.

He flipped them, pinning her beneath him, driving into her with a force that made the couch scrape against the floor. "Mine," he growled with each thrust. "Mine. Mine. Mine."

"Yours," she agreed, her legs wrapping around his waist. "Always yours."

The words seemed to unlock something in him. He came with a roar, his body jerking, his seed flooding her in hot, endless waves. Bella followed seconds later, her orgasm ripping through her with a violence that left her breathless and trembling.

Afterward, as they lay tangled together on the ruined couch, Dante's hand tracing patterns on her bare stomach, he spoke quietly.

"I'm having your things moved to my room."

Bella stiffened. "Dante—"

"Not as a command. As a request." He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I want you with me, Bella. Every night. Every morning. I want to fall asleep holding you and wake up with you in my arms. I want your clothes in my closet, your books on my shelves, your presence in every corner of my life."

"That's... that's a big step."

"I know. And I'm asking, not telling. If you say no, I'll respect that. But Bella—" His voice dropped to a rough whisper. "I don't think I can sleep without you anymore. I don't think I know how."

Bella looked at him—the powerful Don reduced to pleading, his eyes vulnerable, his heart laid bare—and felt the last of her resistance crumble.

"Okay," she said softly. "I'll move my things."

Dante's smile was radiant, the smile of a man who had just been given the world. He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, and whispered promises against her hair that she knew he would keep, no matter what the cost.

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