Page 12 of The Chief (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #3)

ELISE FOLLOWED him up the stairs, heart hammering beneath her ribs. Not from fear, though it pulsed faintly in the background, but from the terrifying thrill of stepping into something she couldn’t undo. Something she didn’t want to undo. Him. Them.

The moment looming just ahead. Her pulse beat wild at the base of her throat, a hot, urgent rhythm she couldn’t ignore.

Her hand still echoed with the Brand, a sensation that wasn’t forceful but final.

Not demanding. Not possessive. Just certain.

Like he’d staked something irrevocable with nothing more than his fingertips and the quiet conviction that came with it.

He said he didn’t want the mask. He wanted her.

That truth settled deep, like a blade sliding beneath her skin, cold, sharp, and undeniable.

It didn’t just strip her bare. It sliced straight through the pretense, through the games, affixing itself to the parts of her she usually kept hidden.

More intimate than any kiss. More permanent than any vow.

At the top of the stairs, Cade didn’t pause.

Didn’t look back. He moved with purpose, every step measured.

The hallway he led her down was long and dimly lit by sconces, casting warm shadows across the hardwood floor and stone accents.

It appeared secluded. Sacred. Like a place meant only for truth and surrender.

His presence filled the space like smoke—quiet, consuming, impossible to ignore.

Elise followed, her bare shoulders prickling as heat and anticipation skated across her skin.

He opened a door at the end of the hall.

The click of the latch echoed like a thunderclap, sharp and final.

It sounded like the world shifting, like a door closing on the girl she’d been and opening into something wilder, more honest. Cade stepped aside, gaze locked on hers, and let the silence do the asking.

An invitation. A challenge. A promise of no return.

She stepped closer, each heartbeat a roar in her ears.

The room wasn’t what she expected.

No dark drama. No sleek, polished display of wealth.

The bedroom reflected him. Clean lines, warm wood, stone accents that whispered of permanence.

The bed was large, draped in dark gray sheets that looked soft enough to ruin her.

A single lamp cast amber light across the space, leaving the corners in shadow. Private. Intimate.

No distractions. No clutter. Nothing to hide behind.

She’d never felt more naked than she did standing in his room with nowhere to look and nowhere to hide. She met his gaze darkly, studying the way the soft light painted his eyes.

Cade didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood in the center of the room, shirt clinging to his chest, his stare burning into hers with quiet command. She hovered in the doorway, caught between the world she’d known and the one about to break open beneath her feet.

The silence pressed between them like velvet, lush and dense, wrapping around her as though the moment itself was breathing.

It draped across her shoulders, inviting and inescapable.

Heavy with anticipation. Soft with meaning.

Thick with the promise of what came next.

There was no going back from this. No undoing the choice already made.

It was inevitable. And she didn’t want to stop it.

She took a breath. Then another. And stepped inside.

Every inch was like surrender.

He didn’t reach for her. Not yet. His gaze swept over her like a leisurely drag of heat, his expression unreadable but hungry. Deliberate. That look hit everywhere. On her skin. In her abdomen. In the damp ache building between her thighs.

He raised one hand. Not commanding. Inviting.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for his.

The second they touched, something inside her gave way, a shutter thrown open in the dark.

A spark ignited in her belly, but it wasn’t just desire.

It was recognition. A pulse. A connection that snapped tight between them.

The Brand on her palm seemed to flare under her skin, like it had been waiting, dormant, for this moment.

For him. As if her body, her soul, knew him on some elemental level.

As if he wasn’t just the one who saw her, but the one she’d been made to find.

He drew her forward, not with force, but inevitability.

Every inch that disappeared between them felt like surrender and recognition all at once.

His other hand lifted to her chin, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth in a gesture so tender it almost undid her.

That one touch didn’t just melt something in her.

It unlocked it. Something buried. Something bruised.

And something fiercely, desperately alive.

His eyes searched hers for a single heartbeat longer, reading something there. Fear, yes, but also fire. Then he kissed her.

Slow. Deep. His kiss was possession and promise all in one. Darker, demanding, impossible to escape.

His mouth moved against hers with devastating self-possession, dragging need from her lungs like a secret she didn’t mean to give up. She clung to his shoulders, experiencing the potency of him, leashed and brimming. She could taste the restraint. Sense the fierce heat curling beneath it.

He stepped forward, crowding her back until she hit the cool press of the wall. One arm came up beside her head, not trapping, just bracing. The other slid to her hip, then lower, catching the curve of her thigh and tugging her closer.

His lips trailed along the curve of her face, grazing the sensitive skin beneath her ear where her pulse fluttered wild.

Down the column of her throat, unhurried, pausing just long enough to taste the hollow of her neck with a flick of his tongue.

Then further still, dragging fire across her collarbone, the curve of her bare shoulder.

A shaky breath escaped her lips.

Her hands found the hem of his shirt, trembling as she pushed it up, hungry for the heat beneath. Cade stepped back just long enough to strip it off and toss it aside, his eyes never leaving hers.

He stood before her in the soft amber light, unashamed, unmoving.

His body was sculpted, every line a testament to a life of discipline and danger.

Broad chest, carved abs, the ripple of muscle across his arms and shoulders that promised power not just in strength, but in control. A body honed by purpose.

Elise couldn’t look away. Couldn’t pretend indifference. Her gaze swept over him, drinking him in like she was starving. And maybe she was. Starving for him. For this. For the unrefined truth of what they were about to become.

She reached out, traced the line of his collarbone with shaking fingers.

Cade caught her wrist.

Held it.

Then leaned in, voice commanding. “My turn.”

He stripped her bit by bit. Methodically.

Like a man unwrapping something precious, dangerous in its rarity, sacred in its offering.

He started with the zipper at her back, dragging it down with a patience that belied the storm in his eyes.

The faint rasp of metal teeth gave way to the soft rustle of silk as it slipped down her arms, skimming her skin like a second pair of hands.

The fabric caught for the briefest second at the swell of her hips before yielding, sliding in a whisper to pool at her feet.

Cade didn’t rush. His eyes tracked the descent like a man watching history being rewritten.

When she stood before him in only lace and nerves, she didn’t flinch.

And he didn’t look away. His hand came up, releasing her bra and easing it away.

Then the backs of his fingers grazed the sides of her breast, before trailing down her ribs.

Possessive. Certain. Like he already knew how she’d taste, how she’d moan, how she’d break apart for him.

And he wanted the privilege of watching it all happen. Slowly.

His hands moved to her hips, his thumbs brushing just under the delicate edge of her lingerie.

His fingers were strong and sure, but patient, as if memorizing her with every pass.

Elise’s breath hitched, a tremor racing through her legs as he slipped his fingers beneath the lace waistband and tugged the panties down inch by inch.

The cool air kissed her thighs, the sensation intensified by the heat rolling off his body. Her pulse fluttered. He was still looking at her, watching her reactions, her breath, the way she trembled. Nothing escaped him.

When her panties slid past her knees, she stepped out of the scrap of lace without being asked. Her skin burned under his gaze, but she didn’t hide.

Cade sank to one knee in front of her, never breaking eye contact.

His hands slid down the backs of her thighs, steadying her as he lowered himself.

The air shifted. Everything seemed to pause.

The dominant, commanding man she’d sparred with, surrendered to, now knelt before her with devastating purpose.

Then he looked up, mouth tight, eyes dark and focused.

There was something unspoken in his gaze, dark, hungry, intense.

A look that stripped her bare all over again.

“You are… spectacular,” he murmured.

He skimmed his hands downward, then back up her calves, her thighs, pausing at the curve of her hips. He kissed her stomach. Once. Then again, lower. Each brush of his mouth more possessive than the last.

Elise slid her fingers into his hair, breath catching as he tasted her skin. His lips, his tongue, the roughness of his stubble, all of it conspired to unravel her. She let her head fall back, eyes fluttering closed.

He parted her thighs gently, easing one over his shoulder. His palms settled at her hips, drawing her forward that final inch.

His mouth found her without hesitation.