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Eleni
My mouth falls open. The boss of the Staten Island Saints is licking his lips and telling me he wants me.
“I—yes,” I say. “Please.”
He smiles wolfishly and dives in to kiss me again. Distantly, I’m glad the fireplace isn’t lit. Dante generates so much heat, ignites such a burn in me, that I think I’d disappear if the room were any warmer.
Still, somehow, I’m surprised when he runs his hand up under my shirt. He was warm at the shooting range. Here, his touch is a flame against my skin. I arch up into him as he grazes my ribs and sets off another cascade of heat.
“Responsive.” He smiles as he kisses along my chin, down the line of my neck. “I like that.”
His praise makes my heart hammer. I want him to smile with his lips on mine. When he gestures me up and grabs the bottom of my shirt, I don’t hesitate. No one has ever seen me like this bef
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