He pulled his switchblade from his pocket and opened it with a near-silent swish. She heard it, though, because she tensed even more. Dante considered his options. Top to bottom, he decided. He reached up and flicked the blade against the top button. It fell to the ground, leaving the flesh-colored mesh fabric to part and reveal her actual skin beneath. He repeated the process, working his way down. He held his breath, barely resisting the urge to do anything about inch after inch of her bare skin being revealed right there in front of him.
He wanted to taste her, to touch her, to toss her to the floor and fuck her until she forgot all about marrying Romeo fucking Capparelli. Until she admitted she belonged to Dante and Dante alone.
Patience.
He didn’t have much to pull from. When he wanted something, he took it, and people fell all over themselves getting out of his way while he did. That wouldn’t work with Rose. Maybe it shouldn’t excite him to know that his identity actually made her harder to seduce, that she would fight him until he proved his dominance, but Dante liked what he liked.
Right now, he liked Rose.
He reached the end of the buttons and cut the last one free. She’d moved her hands to her chest, holding the dress in place, and he allowed it for now. The muscles on either side of her spine flexed as she shifted, shaking just a little bit. In fear? Desire? He couldn’t tell. Not without seeing her face, and even then, he couldn’t be sure.
Not when she lied just as well as he did.
He dragged the flat of his knife down her spine, mostly to see what she’d do. Other than sucking in a sharp breath, she gave no response. Interesting. He considered her another moment and then set the knife aside. The little zipper at the small of her back tried to stick, but he muscled it down, dragging it along the curve of her ass. There.
Dante took her hips again, dipping his hands beneath the now-loose fabric. “Let go.”
“Fuck off.”
“Rosa.” He put enough threat into his voice to make her tense. “Let go.”
She sighed in exasperation and her hands dropped to her sides. The dress immediately went slack, and he slid his hands down the outside of her thighs, pushing the fabric ahead of him. Beneath it, she wore only a pair of red panties, the kind that were cut high against her ass. Not quite a thong, but not full coverage, either. He dragged his hands back up to her hips and traced his thumbs over the lace. “Aren’t brides supposed to wear white?”
“I wasn’t planning on playing the virgin for my new husband, so no.”
Rage rose in a red wave to match her panties. It nearly swept him under. He inhaled slowly, letting her scent consume him. It didn’t matter what she’d planned on doing to—with—Romeo Capparelli. She was here now, with him. That motherfucker would never touch her. Unless… His grip tightened on her hips. “Did you fuck him already, Rosa?”
“Yes. Definitely. In every position. He made me come so hard, I forgot my name, and then he fucked my ass and did it again.”
He spun her to face him, catching her hips again when she nearly toppled. Having Rose’s perfect tits right at eye level nearly derailed him, but her words still rang in his ears. “You don’t like anal.”
“The co-ed you dated didn’t like anal, Jackson.” She was beautiful in her fury, eyes blazing, and skin flushed. She leaned down and gripped the top of his seat. Dante didn’t mean to retreat, but his back found the seat all the same. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he had a moment to curse the fact he was still wearing clothes before she kept speaking, her voice low and vicious. “I didn’t bother to pretend with Romeo. I sucked his cock in the back seat of his car, fucked him in the coat room of our favorite restaurant, and let him finger me whenever he fucking felt like it. He makes it so good, and I’m always wet for him. I never faked it with him.”
She was lying. She had to be.
Except he couldn’t be sure.
Dante grabbed the back of her knees and jerked, yanking her down to straddle him. Rose instantly tried to push away, but he just pulled her closer, sealing them together. “You never faked it with me. Admit it.” He might have held himself back during sex, but he’d always made it good for her. He was sure of it.
“Feeling insecure, baby?” She gave a low laugh. “Someone likes hearing me talk about fucking his enemy.” She rolled her hips, rubbing herself along his hard cock. “Poor Dante. It’s okay that you need to be told what good sex is. I’d say someday you’ll figure it out, but I’m going to kill you before you get a chance.”
She truly was glorious like this, even if every instinct he had demanded he punish her for the shit she spewed. She was lying. Dante dug one hand into her mass of dark hair and forced her down to press her forehead against his. “Let’s get two things straight, Rosa.”
“That’s not my name.”
He ignored that. “First, I don’t give a fuck if you’ve slept your way through the entirety of New York in the last three months. It’s over now.”
“The fuck it is. I—”
“Two.” He stroked his free hand up her thigh and brushed his knuckles against her lower stomach just above the line of her panties. She froze, a little tremor lighting up her body. “You held back with me every hour that we were together. Kept your sharp edges blunted and your vicious little streak well hidden. Do you honestly think it’s any different with me, right down to the way we fucked?”
She jerked back and he let her. Rose stared down at him. “What?”
“I faked it.” He took entirely too much pleasure throwing her words from three months ago back in her face. “When I fuck you next—and I will—there will be no reason to hold back. You’ll beg me for more.”
“You bastard.” She said it slowly, almost in a daze. “You gave me mediocre sex on purpose.”
“Call it what you want.” Dante dipped his thumb beneath the band of her panties. Just enough to breach that barrier, but he didn’t touch her the way he really wanted to. Not yet. “Let’s not throw stones from glass houses. You never said a single fucking word, never complained, just took what I gave you and didn’t ask for more. So, if the sex was mediocre, I’m not the only one to blame.”
“I hate you.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.” She pushed on his chest again. This time, he released her. Rose staggered to her feet and glared. “Touch me again, and I’ll make you regret it.”
He raised his brows. “Keep saying that, but I have a wet spot on my pants that makes a liar out of you.”
She turned away. “Sounds like a you problem, Dante.”
He watched her put a swing in her step as she walked away from him, disappearing through the door into the room with the bed. Only then did Dante allow himself a small smile. “Game on, Rosa.”
Chapter 6
Rose closed the door between her and Dante and stopped short. There, sitting in the middle of the bed, was a cell phone. She stared for a long moment and then moved around the bed to the bathroom. It took a few minutes to take care of business, but she had no more clarity by the time she returned.
At least Dante hadn’t followed her in.