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ELEANOR
My smile widened as I moved closer to Dante, my hands exploring his chest with a deliberate slowness that made him shiver. I could see the tension in his muscles, feel the way his breath hitched with each teasing touch.
His wrists strained against the handcuffs, his knuckles white as he fought against the desire coursing through him.
“Eleanor,”
he breathed, his voice ragged, a plea caught between a gasp and a growl.
“Please… stop.”
But I had no intention of stopping. I had every intention of making this night unforgettable—for both of us. My fingers trailed down his torso, my touch light and barely there, as if I were memorizing every inch of him.
I could feel his body tense beneath me, the way he responded to every brush of my fingertips. I moved my hand lower,
