Beneath His Protection

Chapter 10: A Storm Beneath Silk. – Part 2

The mattress creaked under their weight, the air thick with tension and lust. Rain still tapped against the windowpane, soft and distant now—like the world outside had quieted just to listen to the storm brewing between them.

Christina’s back arched as Dante’s lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to leave a promise behind. His hands were everywhere—rough palms against her hips, sliding beneath her top, gripping her like he needed to prove to himself that she was real.

And maybe he did.

Because everything else—loyalties, identities, alliances—was a f*****g mess. But this? Her?

This was the only thing that made sense.

He tugged her shirt up, slow and deliberate, exposing skin inch by inch like he was unwrapping a secret. Her breath hitched, chest rising fast as she met his gaze.

“Last chance to push me away,” he rasped, voice shaking with restraint he didn’t have much of left.

She stared at him—this man who had killed for her, lied to her, saved her, ruined her.

And then she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled him down to her.

“I’m not pushing anything away,” she whispered, voice low and dark. “I’m done pretending I don’t want this.”

Dante growled—feral, relieved, wrecked—and crashed his mouth against hers again, this time with no hesitation. His kiss was rough, consuming, as if trying to brand her, leave something behind in case the world took him tomorrow.

Clothes came off in frantic bursts—shirts discarded, jeans shoved down, fingers fumbling and urgent. Her nails scratched across his back, earning a low hiss from his throat. He pinned her wrists above her head, leaning down until his lips brushed her ear.

“You drive me insane,” he whispered. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Her thighs tightened around his hips. “Then show me.”

He did.

His body pressed against hers, heat pouring from every inch of skin. His mouth moved down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses across her chest, her stomach, dipping lower until she gasped and arched against him.

He took his time—tongue and fingers teasing, tormenting, worshipping like she was a prayer he never learned how to say out loud.

“Dante—” she gasped, breathless, desperate.

His mouth curved into a dark smile. “Say it again.”

“Dante.”

“Louder.”

“f**k—Dante.”

He slid up, kissing her with a hunger that made her toes curl, and with one slow, grinding push, he was inside her.

They both stilled, breathing hard, eyes locked.

It wasn’t just the s*x—it was war.

A battle for control, for forgiveness, for answers they weren’t ready to say out loud.

He moved slowly at first, deliberately, every thrust deep and punishing, like he wanted to burn himself into her soul. Her legs wrapped around him tighter, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, moaning into his mouth.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “Say it.”

“No—” she gasped, but the shake in her voice betrayed her.

“Say it,” he demanded again, biting down gently on her shoulder.

“Goddammit… I’m yours.”

Everything snapped.

His pace quickened, rough and relentless, the headboard hitting the wall in a staccato rhythm that matched her heartbeat. Their bodies moved together like instinct, like chaos made flesh, her moans rising louder as the coil inside her tightened to the brink.

“I’m gonna—” she tried to say, but couldn’t.

“Let go,” he breathed. “I’ve got you. Always.”

Her back arched, mouth falling open as the orgasm tore through her—white-hot and overwhelming. Her nails raked down his spine as she cried out his name again and again.

He followed with a low, guttural groan, burying his face in her neck as he came, hips jerking, arms wrapped so tightly around her it almost hurt.

Then silence.

Only the sound of ragged breathing, skin on skin, hearts beating like war drums in the dark.

Dante didn’t move for a long moment, his lips brushing her collarbone.

She should have said something. Anything.

But she didn’t.

Because if she opened her mouth, she wasn’t sure if she’d tell him she hated him for breaking her…

or that she was already breaking for him.

He finally shifted, laying beside her, one hand sliding over her stomach, thumb absently stroking her skin.

“I meant it, you know,” he said softly. “When I said I’d burn the world for you.”

Her chest rose and fell with every shaky breath. “Then start with the lies.”

A beat of silence.

Then: “I will.”

But she didn’t know if she believed him.

And neither did he.