His Serpent's Kiss
He murmured with a low, breathy voice.
“Don’t play coy, Dante,” I stated without mirth. “You know why I called you here.”
“I’m not your toy, Don Vecchio,” He retorted, yet his eyes betrayed a hint of something else. It was anticipation. The tiny distance between us felt electric.
I gripped his chin, tugging him closer, and kissed him.
Almost at once, my patience snapped. I had lost every hint of holding back.
My hands reached under his shirt, grasping his warm bare skin firmly. The taunt muscles under my grasp rippled.