Page 4 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

SHE FIT against him like she’d always belonged there.

Titus lay awake, his body relaxed but his mind clear, taking in the golden strands of Jazz’s hair spilling over his arm. She slept deeply, wrapped around him, her breath warm against his chest. His palm rested on the small of her back, fingers splayed over bare skin, absorbing her warmth.

This was right. Inevitable.

He’d told her this marriage was practical, that it was about family and financial advantage. He’d let her believe that. Let everyone believe that. It was easier thatway .

But Jazz Mirabella had been his from the moment he laid eyes onher.

The first time he saw her, something in him settled. Adeep, unwavering certainty.

She was meant to behis.

That certainty had only solidified when she stood across from him yesterday, wearing his ring, bound to him in every way that mattered.

Now, she lay in his bed, in his arms. And he had no intention of ever letting hergo.

Possessiveness swirled in his chest, hot and undeniable.

Not just because she was here, tangled up with him, but because she belonged here.

With him. Always. He had made that choice long before she had ever spoken his name.

Long before she had agreed to be his wife.

And now, with her breath warm against his skin, her body pressed into him so trustingly in sleep, that certainty settled even deeper. He had claimed her.

His gaze drifted down, tracing the elegant curve of her spine. Her skin was smooth, warm beneath his touch, still carrying the faint evidence of last night—his touch, his possession. She wore him now, whether she realized it yet ornot.

A flicker of movement drew his attention.

Her hand, resting on the sheets beside him, shifted slightly. Atiny smudge of darkened skin caught his eye—afaint, shadowymark.

Titus frowned, eyes narrowing.

Slowly, he lifted his ownhand.

The same smudge marred hispalm.

A low hum rumbled in his chest.

Fate.

The word settled deep in his bones, solidifying what he had always known. This wasn’t just desire, wasn’t just inevitability—it was something greater. Something binding. It shifted something inside him, not changing his perception of their bond, but reinforcing it. Strengtheningit.

She wasn’t just his because he had claimed her. She was his because fate had made it so, sealing her to him in a way that went beyond vows, beyond touch, beyond anything and everything. And he had never wanted restraint more than he did now.

He hadn’t needed proof—he’d known from the start—but now it was written into his skin. Written intohers.

He brushed a thumb over her hand, bringing their palms close together. The moment they aligned, afaint buzz, like static electricity, crackled betweenthem.

His satisfaction deepened.

Mine.

Jazz stirred, her breathing shifting. Her lashes fluttered, and a soft sigh left her lips, the sound soft, almost vulnerable.

She shifted again, pressing herself more fully against him, her body seeking his warmth even in sleep.

Asatisfied hum escaped her, and Titus felt it vibrate against his skin, awhisper of contentment that sent a rush of possessiveness surging throughhim.

Titus watched, unmoving, waiting. He could wake her now, claim her again before her mind fully surfaced from the haze of sleep, before she had the chance to form a single thought that wasn’t about him.

But he wanted this moment, wanted to feel the way she instinctively reached for him, the way her body molded to his without hesitation.

She stretched slightly, her body shifting closer, her thigh sliding over his own, her skin hot against his. The movement was unguarded, unthinking—trusting.

His jaw tensed. Heat burned low in his stomach, but he tamped it down. He had time. He had all the time in the world to teach her what this meant, to make sure she never thought of pullingaway.

Fuck.

The rush of heat was immediate, his body reacting instinctively. She was soft, warm, completely relaxed against him, her body trusting his in sleep in a way she hadn’t yet allowed herself to while awake.

A mistake she’d learn not tomake.

He slid a hand up her back, slow, deliberate. Jazz made a small noise of pleasure.

Green eyes flickered open, hazy with sleep, blinking against the soft morning light.

For a moment, she stilled, her body relaxed in his hold, as if waking in his arms was the most natural thing in the world.

Then she registered where shewas.

Who she was with.

Titus saw the moment it hit her. The moment awareness erased the softness in her gaze.

Her breath caught, the faintest parting of her lips betraying the thoughts forming behind those green eyes.

Aflush bloomed across her cheeks, spreading down her throat, areaction she couldn’t hide, couldn’t prevent.

It wasn’t just embarrassment. It was something deeper, somethingraw.

He owned every reaction.

A slow smile curved his lips. “Good morning, wife.”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she swallowed, her lashes lowering as if she could hide from the intensity in his gaze, as if she could escape the significance of what had settled between them. But there was no escapingit.

No escaping him.

Instead, her gaze dropped—to his chest, to where her hand rested against his skin. She flexed her fingers slightly, as if testing the reality of it, before looking back up athim.

“Titus.” Her voice was soft, sleep-warmed.

His name on her lips sent another wave of heat throughhim.

He slid a hand into her hair, tilting her face up toward his. “Did you sleep well, wife?”

Something flickered in her eyes. Uncertainty.

Awareness. Aslow, creeping realization of what last night had truly meant.

Her breath shallowed, her lips parting as if she might speak, but no words came.

Instead, she studied him, her gaze darting between his eyes, his mouth, as if searching for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted.

Her fingers twitched against his skin, tentative, hesitant, as though testing the import t of the bond between them. What had changed? Why did she feel different? The answer was simple. Everything had changed. And she could feel it, just as hedid.

She swallowed. “Yes, Islept well.”

Titus smiled.

“Good,” he said smoothly. Then, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, he rolled, shifting her beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

Her breath hitched.

“Titus—”

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice dark and certain.

He dipped his head, brushing his lips against the curve of her shoulder. Jazz shivered beneath him, her pulse kicking against hislips.

Her hands pressed against his chest, not in resistance—just uncertainty.

Her touch was hesitant, as if she were grounding herself, as if she needed a moment to process the intensity between them.

Was she overwhelmed? Afraid? Or was she simply trying to catch up to the reality of what had just happened?

He felt the tension in her fingers, the slight tremor in her breath, and knew she was teetering on the edge of something—something she wasn’t ready to name yet. She still didn’t fully understand.

But she would.

With patience, with time—she would learn.

She was his.

And he took care of what washis.

Titus wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t rough either.

He was patient, deliberate, attuned to every shift in her breath, every tremor of her body beneath his touch.

He traced her curves with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who knew exactly how to unravel her.

Every brush of his lips, every slide of his fingers, was a silent promise—one he intended tokeep.

He let his hands roam, exploring the softness of her curves, mapping the heat of her skin.

Jazz gasped as his mouth found her throat, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the delicate line of her pulse.

He took his time, savoring the feel of her, the way she reacted to his touch, the way she clung tohim.

Her fingers gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he slid lower, his lips trailing across her collarbone.

Ashiver ran through her, and he smiled against her skin.

She was learning. Learning that she didn’t need to hold back.

Learning that she could trust him to give her what she needed, what she hadn’t even known she wanted.

“Titus,” she breathed, her voice unsteady, full of something deeper than hesitation.

He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Yes, wife?”

Her lips parted, but whatever she was about to say was lost when he rolled his hips, pressing into her in a way that left no room for questions. She arched beneath him, her head falling back, and he took the opportunity to claim her mouth again, deepening the kiss until she was breathless.

She wasn’t holding back anymore. She was meeting him now, her body moving with his, her hands sliding over his back, pulling him closer. Her soft moans filled the space between them, each sound sending a surge of satisfaction throughhim.

This. This was what he wanted.

Her surrender. Not just her body, but the way she gave in to him, trusted him to lead, to take her exactly where she needed to go. She was made for this, made forhim.

And when she finally fragmented beneath him, when her body clenched around his, pulling him deeper into the heat of her, he followed, letting himself go, losing himself in her, knowing without a doubt—

She belonged to him.

And she knew it now,too.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

The air between them was thick with heat, their bodies tangled together, skin damp, breath uneven.

Jazz lay beneath him, her fingers skating across his back, her nails leaving faint crescents in his skin.

He could feel her pulse fluttering against his lips as he pressed a slow kiss to the curve of her shoulder.