Page 29 of Auctioned Innocence (Bonds of Betrayal #3)

DANTE

T hree days in Mario’s safe house, and I’m watching Sofia become herself again.

Not the terrified girl who was displayed on an auction platform, not the desperate captive fighting for survival—but Sofia Renaldi.

The woman who can take apart a security system with her eyes closed, who can put three bullets through a target at four hundred yards, who can stand beside me as an equal partner instead of someone who needs constant protection.

Every morning, we clear the furniture from the main room and work through combat scenarios. Hand-to-hand, weapons, tactical movement—all the skills Marco drilled into her over the years, now sharpened by real experience and my guidance. But I’m not teaching her anymore. I’m training with her.

She’s always been deadly. The woman who saved us both from that warehouse, who killed five men without hesitation.

When she disarms me during sparring—and she does, frequently—there’s no surprise in her eyes.

Just the quiet confidence of someone who’s remembered that she accepted exactly what she’s capable of.

It’s the nights that undo me completely.

I wake with her wrapped around me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear, and I hold her like she’s something precious I never expected to have.

We talk in whispers about everything and nothing—childhood memories, dreams we’ve never spoken aloud, the future we’re trying to build in a world that keeps trying to tear us apart.

When the nightmares come, I’m there. When the panic attacks hit—usually triggered by unexpected sounds or the feeling of being trapped—I talk her through them with infinite patience. Not because she’s weak, but because healing takes time. Because even the strongest people carry scars.

And Christ, she’s strong. Stronger than I ever gave her credit for.

“You’re staring,” Sofia observes from where she’s cleaning weapons at the dining table. The morning light streaming through the bulletproof windows catches the gold in her dark hair, making her look like some avenging angel sent to destroy my self-control.

“Can you blame me?” I settle into the chair across from her with my coffee, still marveling at the domestic normalcy of it. Three days ago we were killing people in a warehouse. Now we’re sharing morning coffee like any couple.

Except we’re not any couple. We’re two people with blood on our hands, trying to find the people who want us dead.

“The quiet won’t last,” I say, though there’s no urgency in my voice. We both know this peace is temporary. Mario’s secure communications have been sporadic—careful, coded messages that confirm Marco is healing but reveal little else about the larger situation.

Sofia reaches across the table, threading our fingers together. Three days, and I still feel that electric shock when she touches me. I can’t quite believe this is real.

“No regrets?” she asks again softly, and there’s something vulnerable in her voice that makes my chest tight.

I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “About falling for the most dangerous woman I know? Having the best sex of my life with someone who could probably kill me six different ways?” My smile is genuine, probably the first real one I’ve worn in years. “None whatsoever.”

"Good answer." She leans across to kiss me, tasting like coffee and something uniquely her. “Because I was going to have to hurt you if you said yes.”

“Violent tendencies,” I murmur against her lips. “I like that in a woman.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” she giggles and I can’t help but agree with her.

Her laugh is low and breathless, the kind that curls in my chest and coils tight in my stomach. I brush her hair back from her face, fingers lingering at the curve of her jaw.

“I’m serious,” I whisper. “There’s definitely something wrong with me.”

She grins like she knows exactly what I mean—and exactly what to do about it. Her hands find the collar of my shirt, curling into the fabric, pulling me closer until there’s nothing but desire and the shared air between us.

Her lips meet mine again, slower this time, less teasing.

It’s not a kiss meant to distract or test—it’s claiming, deliberate.

I respond in kind, one hand sliding behind her neck while the other braces against her hip.

She tilts her head, deepening the kiss, and suddenly everything else disappears but the press of her mouth, the scrape of her teeth, the intoxicating warmth of her body against mine.

In a flash she’s straddling me in one fluid motion, and my breath stutters. Her fingers trail up the back of my neck, threading into my hair, and when she tugs, just a little, I groan against her lips.

“You like danger,” she murmurs, kissing the corner of my mouth, my jaw, then just below my ear. “Good. I can work with that.”

“God help me,” I breathe, tilting my head to give her more room. Her mouth on my neck sends sparks across every nerve ending. “I don’t think I want to be saved.”

Her throaty laugh against my skin sets me on fire. I wrap my hand around her hair and pull it back, forcing her lips away from my throat and exposing her neck to me. Leaning forward, I kiss her skin, sliding my hands to her stomach and slipping them under her shirt.

Sofia moans, and I bite her neck, eliciting a gasp from her perfect lips.

Curling my hands around the edge of her shirt, I yank it up and off her, exposing her toned, lean body to me. Her black satin bra barely covers the swells of her breasts, and I can’t help but cup them.

“Yes,” Sofia whispers and I suck in a breath. I run my hands in circles around the peaks of her breasts. Sofia moans and arches forward, crying out when I pinch her nipples through her bra.

God, the sounds of her moan make me so fucking hard.

I trail my hands down to the waist of her leggings and slide them down her legs. She helps me kick them off and they’re not even off her ankles before I dip my hand into her underwear. Fuck me, she’s already wet.

Sofia gasps as I slide through her, swirling her clit before dipping lower to push one finger into her. I nearly come right then and there. So. Fucking. Wet .

“I want to watch you touch yourself, Sofia.” The words are out of my mouth before I even have a chance to register them.

Sofia’s eyes snap to mine, and I can see the surprise written in them. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I say.

She quirks a dark brow. “You already know how to touch me.”

I smile at her. “Then teach me something new.” I pull my finger out of her, ignoring her mewl of displeasure. “Lay back.”

Sofia pouts for a moment before she leans back against the table, shifting until she is comfortable.

She lifts one hand and touches her neck before she slowly rubs down her collar bone to her chest. Her legs open wider, and I watch as her black underwear pulls across her skin, almost revealing her pretty pussy lips to me.

I look back up and Sofia is running her hands across her chest, moving slowly down to her breasts, her eyes closed.

She moves circles around her breasts—just like I had—before she slips her hands down her stomach.

I watch as her fingers slide over the fabric, pressing into the wetness and pulling the material closer to her clit.

She rubs circles against herself, pulling upward strokes with one finger, slowly, then she moves in quick circles.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask her huskily, watching her closely. The room is already starting to smell like sex.

Sofia’s fingers pause at the band of her underwear. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would. Very much so.” I kiss the inside of her thigh before leaning forward and pressing another kiss to her clit. Sofia jerks and grabs my hair. I suck at the satin of her underwear, my tongue flicking out to press harder against the spot she played with a second ago.

Sofia moans, pressing her hips against my face. I laugh, pulling away.

“Show me how you like it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You know how I like it. Haven’t we established that already? Now, shut up. How can I get myself off if you keep yapping away?”

I raise my hands in surrender and lean back, waiting for her to continue.

Sofia moves her hands back to her underwear. She runs her fingers through her folds again, over the satin, swirling over her clit.

God, that’s so hot.

Sofia moves her one finger up and down and her hips press upward. I bite my lip, fighting back a moan. “And to answer your question— I’m thinking about you eating me out.”

That response startles me, but also arouses me. My dick presses uncomfortably against my pants. “Oh yeah?”

She nods as she moves the one finger up and down again. She presses harder against herself and her hips start rolling to meet her fingers. “Yes.”

Sofia dips here hands into her underwear and I watch through the material as she spreads herself open with two fingers while a third moves against her clit.

“And how does it feel when I eat that perfect pussy of yours?” I palm myself through my pants.

She sighs. “Amazing.” Her mouth drops open and her breathing comes faster. I watch her hips roll in tune with her fingers plunging into her and rolling her clit.

“Do you want it harder?” I ask.

“Yes,” Sofia moans out. Her finger presses harder against her clit and her hips jerk wildly against her hand. Her other hand drifts upward to play with her nipples. “God, yes .”

“Do you like that, principessa ?”

“Fuck, yes. Yes .”

Her breathing picks up but her eyes remain closed, her long finger still stroking her clit. Her hips jump.

“How does it feel?”

She tilts her head back, her legs completely open and spread. “So good. I want it to be you.”

I swallow. My dick is so uncomfortable and even touching myself isn’t helping. “What do you want me to do?”

“Touch me. Touch me like this.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them, she’s moving quickly, pushing her hips against her hand.

“Harder,” I command.

“Yes,” she hisses. “Yeah, like that. Yes.”