Page 27 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

Jazz sucked in a breath, her body rigid, unsure of what to do with this version of him.

This wasn’t the Titus who commanded. And that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

Because if he wasn’t the man who dictated every move, who always had the upper hand, then who was he?

And more importantly—what did this mean forthem?

A part of her wanted to believe this vulnerability made him safer, more reachable.

But another part, the one that had always kept her guarded, whispered that this was even more dangerous.

Because this was the side of him that could make her fall all over again.

This was something else entirely—something unguarded, somethingraw.

“This changes everything,” he murmured, his voice a fraction rougher than before. “More than you even realize.”

Her heart pounded, her fingers trembling at her sides. “Titus—”

His thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles just below her navel. “You think I don’t care? That I don’t feel this in my fucking bones? Iknew before you told me, Jazz. I felt it. Ijust needed you to say it.”

The air between them thickened, electric, charged with something neither of them could afford to name. His hands didn’t leave her stomach, but they hesitated for the briefest moment before moving—up, around her waist, pulling her flush againsthim.

A shiver ran through her, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of his touch or the gravity of what was happening between them. Her body stiffened, instinct fighting against the part of her that wanted— needed —to surrender to this moment. Tohim.

But when his breath brushed her temple, his hold steady, the tension inside her fractured, leaving something exposed and unguarded in its place.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself lean into him, her fingers stroking before they found purchase against his chest. His breath was warm against her temple, his body solid, unrelenting.

And suddenly, she wasn’t sure if she was trembling from his nearness or from everything unspoken betweenthem.

Jazz sucked in a breath, her fingers grasping onto the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.

Was she reaching for something solid in the storm of emotions crashing over her?

Or was this surrender—the moment she let go of the fight, of the doubt, and allowed herself to need him in a way that terrifiedher?

“Then show me how much this means to you.”

That was all ittook.

Titus moved fast. His mouth crashed against hers, no hesitation, no restraint.

It wasn’t soft, wasn’t searching—it was possession, pure and unfiltered.

Abattle of tongues and teeth, rough and consuming, like he was trying to brand her with every stroke, every desperate pull of breath between them.

The tension that had coiled between them for so long finally snapped, giving way to something frenzied, somethingwild.

He kissed her like he was proving something, like he was branding her from the inside out. And God help her, she kissed him back just as fiercely.

Her back hit the wall before she even realized they were moving, his hands sliding up her sides, fingers tracing every curve like they were mapping her body. Her nails bit into his shoulders as she arched, desperate for more, for something that wasn’t slipping through her grasp.

“You think I’d let anyone hurt what’s mine?” he growled against her lips, his voice dark, possessive.

Jazz gasped, her nails dragging down his back. “Then prove it.”

That was all the invitation he needed.

Titus tore at her clothes, his fingers working frantically, yanking fabric aside with none of the practiced finesse he usually had.

Jazz felt the difference, the urgency in him—this wasn’t planned, wasn’t premeditated.

It was need, raw and unfiltered, and the realization left her burning with desire.

Was this desperation or something deeper?

Did it excite her or make her feel like she was losing her last grip on reason?

Maybe both. An inferno, primal and chaotic, built between them.

Jazz met him with equal fervor, her hands clawing at his shirt, dragging it up over his head before she fumbled with his belt, desperate to get closer, to feel the heat of his skin against hers.

He helped her, shoving his pants down as she kicked off the last of her clothes, leaving them tangled somewhere behindthem.

Then he was lifting her, pressing her hard against the wall, his mouth never leaving hers, kissing her like he could devour every breath she took. She gasped as his teeth scraped along her jaw, as his hands gripped her thighs and spread her open forhim.

The first thrust was sharp, deep, tearing a moan from her throat as she locked her legs around his waist. Ajolt of sensation crashed through her, overwhelming in its intensity.

It should have been too much, too fast, but it was exactly what she needed—what she craved.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, steadying herself in him, in this moment, as the pleasure unfurled through her like wildfire.

He drove into her again and again. The hard wall behind her did nothing to cushion the relentless rhythm he set, but she didn’t care. She wanted it like this—wild, unhinged, desperate.

“Titus,” she moaned, nails scoring down his back as he hit deeper, harder.

He growled her name in response, dragging his mouth back to hers, biting at her lower lip. “You’re mine, Jazz. Say it. Tell me you love me—” As much as he loved her.

She did. Over and over, until the words blurred with the pleasure wrecking her body, until her cries shattered against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them. But he wasn’t finished—not even close.

Titus pulled her away from the wall, carrying her across the room without breaking their connection. He lowered them to the floor, his body covering hers as he pushed even deeper, his hands gripping her wrists and pinning them above herhead.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough, uneven.

She did. And what she saw there—possessiveness, hunger, something deeper, something dangerous—nearly undidher.

Then he moved again, deeper, harder, stretching her until there was nothing left but the feel of him, of them, colliding in pure, unrelentingneed.

Jazz arched beneath him, her back bowing off the floor, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders. Every thrust sent pleasure spiraling through her, raw and consuming, increasing the heat in her belly until she was gasping, writhing, lost inhim.

Titus wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t slow. He took her like he was claiming her, like he had something to prove, like every movement was a declaration that she belonged to him in ways neither of them had ever dared to say aloud.

And she met him head-on, taking everything he gave, matching him with the same desperate hunger.

Their bodies moved in a frantic, punishing rhythm, the air thick with heat, sweat, and the sound of skin meeting skin.

The room felt like it was closing in around them, the world beyond these walls fading into insignificance.

Jazz couldn’t tell if time had stretched or collapsed, only that nothing else existed beyond the way he moved inside her, the way he anchored her to this moment with every thrust, every desperate sound torn from his throat.

The office sealed them into a world where nothing else mattered but this—the feverish, relentless rhythm that consumed them both.

Every breath was shallow, every gasp stolen between movement.

Was she losing herself in him, or had she finally found the only place she was meant to be?

He whispered her name between kisses, between thrusts, between the ragged breaths they barely had time to take.

His grip was bruising, his touch rough, but she wanted it—needed it—needed him likethis.

He rolled them suddenly, flipping her onto her stomach, dragging her hips up as he drove back into her from behind. Jazz cried out, her hands fisting against the floor, the stretch of him overwhelming, devastating, perfect .

“Fuck, Jazz,” he ground out, his hand sliding up her spine before fisting in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to force her to meet his gaze in the reflection of the window. “Look at yourself. Look at us.”

She did, her breath catching at the sight—the flush of her skin, the wildness in her eyes, the sheer intensity of the way he was taking her, owning her. Ashiver ran through her, but she couldn’t tell if it was from exhilaration or because she needed him. All of him.

Seeing herself like this, wrapped around him, surrendering yet pushing back with equal hunger—it didn’t just excite her, it unsettled her.

Because it confirmed something. This wasn’t just need or possession.

This was inevitability. No matter how much she had fought him, no matter how much she had tried to keep pieces of herself guarded, she had always beenhis.

Loved him. Desired him. Wanted him and only him.

She wasn’t sure if that realization made her feel safer or if it terrified her more than anything. And in this moment, she saw that truth reflected back at her. And the way he watched her in return—like she was everything.

Pleasure wound tighter, burning through her, leaving her on the edge of something soul changing. “Titus—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, his grip tightening. “Come for me. Now.”

She did, her body clenching around him, her vision going white as pleasure exploded through her. She screamed, his name tumbling from her lips. He followed seconds later, thrusting deep, his voice vibrating against her skin as he lost himself inside her, calling to her in a long, raw growl.