Page 21

“Yes.” The word falls out before I can stop it.
Still, he waits. My jaw clenches, but again, it’s not enough to uproot my next response from my soul.
“Yes, Sir,” I breathe.
“Good girl,” he murmurs again. Then he fastens it around my neck. Not tight. Justpresent.
He steps closer, wrapping his power, his aura around me. “You belong to me now, Dahlia. And when I say kneel, you’ll kneel. When I say come, you’ll come.”
He steps in front of me again. Brushes a knuckle down my sternum.
He tilts my chin up.
Then Dante’s mouth crashes into mine—hot and hard andeverything.
A promise and a punishment all at once, and I don’t have time to think—I onlyfeel. The heat of it. The hunger. The way his hand fists in my hair, dragging me closer, angling my face so he can take exactly what he wants, how he wants it.
He’s fully clothed and I’m a naked accessory for his pleasure.
And holy shit, why does that light me the fuck up?
His lips are firm, commanding, coaxing mine open with a flick of his tongue, and the second I let him in, I know I’ve made a mistake. Because it’s not just a kiss. It’s an invasion. A seduction. Abranding.
It’s him mapping every inch of my mouth like he already owns it. He tastes like sin—dark and expensive, whiskey-laced and wicked—and he kisses like he wants to ruin me from the inside out.
My body betrays me instantly, heat sparking low in my belly, knees going soft as my fingers curl into his shirt without permission.
I tell myself I hate it. That I hatehim. That this is a game and I’m just playing my part—but the lie rings hollow when I realize I’m kissing him back with just as much hunger. Maybe more. Because his kiss feels like everything I’ve ever denied myself. The absence of control. Craving. Safety wrapped in danger.
And God help me, I want more. Ineedmore.
Even as my pride screams at me to pull away, to slap him, to do anything but moan into his mouth the way I do now, I staypressed against him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s always shifting beneath my feet.
By the time he pulls away, my knees are weak.
He grips my waist, thumbs stroking my pelvic bone, back and forth, back and forth. Then he whispers against my lips. “Go to bed, Dahlia.”
I stare at him, stunned. “Are you serious? You’re leaving me like this?”
“Of course,” he says, voice low and full of dark promise. “Obedience starts withdenial.”
He turns. Walks away.
And leaves me there—collared, wet, empty…
And… terrifyingly… already halfway his.
In a dazeI watch the door click shut behind him.
The moment I’m alone, my knees go weak for real. I don’t collapse—but it’s close. I scrabble up my clothes and hightail it to the bedroom I used last night.
My skin feels too sensitive to put them back so I dump them on the bed and shrug into the robe I used this morning.
My shaking hand rises to my neck. The collar is still snug around my neck. Light. Elegant. Mocking. I finger the clasp, already knowing bone deep that I’m going to leave it on.
My body is still trembling. From his touch. His voice. His kiss. Hisrestraint.
God, I hate him. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about how close his fingers were to my pussy. How easily he denied me. How much Iwantedto obey.