Page 3 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

Her fingers gripped into his shirt, holding on as he took over, taking and giving in equal measure, pulling her into a kiss so deep she forgot to breathe. Forgot to think. All she knew was him—the blazing heat, the authority, the absolute certainty in the way he devouredher.

By the time he pulled back, she was trembling.

“Still uncertain?” His voice was rough, his eyes dark with intent.

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but shake herhead.

“Good.” He brushed his lips over her temple, aghost of a touch. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Not done? She was reeling from the intensity of his kiss. But as he reached for the remaining fabric of her dress, instinct had her hands flying up to stop him, fingers clutching the sagging bodice as if it were the last barrier betweenthem.

“Titus, wait—”

His hand closed gently over hers, stopping her.

“Let me do this, Jazz.” His voice was deep, unwavering, carrying a burden she didn’t fully understand.

“You were put in this dress for them—for the world, for appearances, to pay a debt your father ran up.” He slowly pried her fingers away, his grip strong yet patient.

“But now? Now, Iundress you because this moment belongs to us. Not Sam and the debt, not for appearances, not for any other person—just you and me.”

Her breath hitched, her heart hammering so loudly she swore he could hear it.

Was it fear? Anticipation? The slow, insidious burn of longing swirling low in her belly?

He wasn’t just stripping her of fabric. He was stripping her of doubt, of pretense, of every carefully laid defense she’d built to protect herself from what this marriage truly meant.

He resumed his work, dragging the gown down the curves of her body with devastating slowness, his knuckles brushing against her bare skin with every measured movement.

“I want you to feel it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his lips warm against her exposed skin. “To know that tonight, there’s no one watching. No cameras, no expectations. Just you. And me.”

The last of the fabric slid away, softly gathering at her knees in a wide, tumbled pile of lace and silk and tulle. It left her in only the lace undergarments that suddenly felt far too delicate beneath hisgaze.

She swallowed hard. “And after tonight?”

He met her eyes, his dark stare holding her captive. “After tonight, you’ll know exactly where you stand.” His voice was smooth, unreadable.

Her breath hitched when his fingers traced down her bare arm, the touch deceptively light, yet leaving heat in its wake.

The air between them thickened, charged with something she didn’t understand, something she was afraid to name.

His confidence unnerved her, that unshakable certainty in his every movement, every word, as if he had planned not just the wedding, but this moment, this night, long before she had even realized she would belong tohim.

Jazz struggled to steady herself. “Right now our marriage feels like a business transaction.”

He nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “That’s what it was.”

The words sent a strange pang through her chest. She knew this was an arrangement. She had accepted that from the start. So why did it hurt to hear him confirm it so easily?

Something inside her twisted. “Then why bother with the reception? The spectacle?”

Titus’s fingers drifted from her shoulder upward, grazing the curve of her neck, his touch slow and deliberate, each movement designed to unravel her inch by inch. “Because it was necessary. People needed to see it. Believe in it.”

She sucked in a breath, her skin tightening beneath his fingertips. “Believe in what?”

“That this is real.” His gaze was unwavering, dark as night. “That you’re mine.”

Her pulse stuttered. His voice had dropped, the low timbre curling through her like smoke, wrapping around her limbs, pulling her deeper into something she wasn’t preparedfor.

A shiver ran through her. “Even though we both know why we did this?”

His hand cupped her throat—not tight, not restraining, but possessive.

His thumb brushed her jaw, tilting her head just enough that she had no choice but to look at him.

The air between them grew thick, charged with something unspoken, something undeniable.

“Reasons don’t change what’s happening between us right now. ”

Her lips parted, her breath shaky. He was too close, his heat sinking into her, his scent—dark spice, something dangerously addictive—wrapping around her senses. She should push him away. She should remind him that this wasn’treal.

But he was right. Whatever this was… it was real enough to steal the air from her lungs.

Titus leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “We know the reasons. That doesn’t mean the outcome can’t change.”

She wanted to ask more, to push him, but his fingers kept moving, moving, moving. They traced down her arm, sending a wave of sensation through her body. Her pulse stuttered as his touch drifted with agonizing slowness.

“Dad was at the wedding,” she whispered, trying to base herself. “He actually seemed… grateful.”

Titus’s fingers paused. “Of course he was. Iforgave most of Sam’s debts. Gave him back his life.”

Jazz fought the emotions swirling inside her. “And now I belong to you.”

He didn’t correct her.

The air between them thickened, his gaze dropping to her lips before sliding lower. “Tell me, Jazz,” he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. “Are you afraid now?”

He backed her to the bed, but he didn’t force her down. Not yet. Instead, he took his time, settling onto the edge and pulling her between his parted thighs, his large hands resting on her hips. The warmth of his touch burned through the thin lace of her underwear, brandingher.

“We’ll take it nice and slow, Jazz,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. “There’s no rush.”

No rush? The words sent a shiver through her, because all she could feel was urgency—her pulse pounded and she fought to draw a steady breath.

But he was in charge, as he always was, and that was what left her unmoored.

He lifted his hands, trailing them over the curve of her waist, sketching the outline of her ribs as though memorizing her.

His fingers grazed the undersides of her breasts, featherlight, teasing, before he cupped her fully, his thumbs brushing over the lace-covered peaks.

She sucked in a swift breath. “Titus—”

“Shh.” He squeezed gently, his thumbs teasing again, drawing slow circles that made her body tremble. “Let me enjoy my bride.”

Heat coiled through her, pooling low in her belly, tightening something deep and unfamiliar.

He reached behind her and unhooked the delicate scrap of lace holding her breasts in place, peeling it away with devastating patience.

She gasped as the cool air kissed her exposed skin, but before she could react, his mouth was there—hot, wet, his lips closing over one tight peak, his tongue stroking, teasing.

Abroken moan slipped from her throat, her hands flying to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the solid muscle beneath his shirt.

“Titus—oh.”

He made a sound of satisfaction, laving her nipple with his tongue before drawing it deeper into his mouth, sucking with a force that sent pleasure arcing through her, winding her tighter, leaving her raw and aching.

His free hand traveled lower, skimming her stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of her panties.

His fingers slipped between her thighs, parting her, finding her already drenched.

He groaned against her skin. “You’re so ready for me, Jazz.”

Her face burned, but there was no embarrassment. Just need. Justhim.

He stripped away her final barrier, her lacy thong dropping to the floor.

Then his fingers stroked her, sliding through her slick heat, teasing, circling, but never giving her what she craved.

Every touch was measured, skillful, as if he had all the time in the world.

He watched her, his dark eyes burning with hunger.

“Tell me what you want.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

He smiled. “Yes, you do.”

His fingers slipped lower, teasing at her entrance, then back up, gliding over the swollen bud at her center with unbearable precision. Her hips jerked instinctively, chasing his touch, and he released a soft chuckle.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go, Jazz. Stop thinking. Just feel.”

She let out a trembling breath, her head falling back, her body melting into his hands. He worked her slowly, thoroughly, his fingers stroking, circling, dipping inside her only to retreat, keeping her right on the edge. She whimpered, her nails biting into hisskin.

“Titus—please—”

His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Not yet.”

She nearly sobbed. But then he stood, his hands moving with slow, deliberate purpose.

He unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off broad, muscled shoulders, revealing golden skin stretched taut.

The firelight flickered, casting shadows across the ridges of his chest, the defined cut of his abs, the sculpted lines that disappeared beneath his belt.

He held her gaze as he removed the rest, never breaking eye contact, letting her watch as each piece of fabric was stripped away until there was nothing between them but desperate need, expectation, and intense desire.

Her breath hitched when he finally pressed her into the mattress, his bare body a solid wall of passion and muscle, his skin hot against hers. He reached between them, guiding himself to her entrance, pausing just long enough to meet hergaze.

“I want to watch you fall apart for me.”

And then he pushed inside, slow and unyielding, stretching her, claiming her, until there was nothing left but him. The air thickened with anticipation, but he didn’t rush. Instead, he studied her, fingers trailing over her breasts.

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words never came. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm as old as time, the slow slide of skin against skin, the heat building between them with every thrust, every gasp, every whisperedplea.

Jazz clung to him, her nails digging into his back as pleasure built to an unbearable peak, every touch, every kiss unraveling her completely. She had never known anything like this—this aching, all-consuming connection that shattered her, redefinedher.

Titus groaned her name, his voice thick with desire, his control slipping as he drove them both higher. “Look at me, Jazz,” he commanded, his lips brushing over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth. “I want to see you come apart for me.”

She obeyed, her eyes locking with his, drowning in the hunger, the raw possession, the unspoken promise that she was his.

That she had always been his. The moment crashed over her like a tidal wave, pleasure fracturing through her as she cried out his name, her body tightening around him, pulling him with her into oblivion.

Titus followed, his release ripping through him, his arms locking around her as if he could keep her in this moment forever. He buried his face in her neck, his breath ragged, his body trembling from the force ofit.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was their mingled breaths, the crackling fire, the steady beat of his heart against herown.

Then, slowly, he shifted, rolling them so she was tucked against his chest, his grip unyielding, as if he refused to let hergo.

Jazz lay there, her body sated, her mind spinning. She should say something. She should push him away before she lost herself completely. But she couldn’t. Notyet.

Because, for the first time since this marriage had begun, she felt like she truly belonged tohim.

And that terrified her more than anythingelse.