Chapter 130: Touched By Him In My Dress
Gianna’s POV
“Dante, I’m serious…” My voice came out breathy, already betraying the effect he had on me.
“You’ve been in here for over two hours, pretty doll,” he said. He kept coming, and I found myself backing up instinctively until I hit the mirror, the cool glass pressing against my bare shoulders, sending a shiver down my spine. “I got impatient.”
“Where’s Arielle? If she comes back and sees you…”
“She’s safe in the bathroom. Bruno’s standing guard like his life depends on it.” His eyes never left mine as he prowled closer, eating up the distance between us. “Which it does. I had to seize this moment.”
My heart was pounding now, a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I could feel the heat of him even though he wasn’t touching me yet, could smell his cologne, that dark, expensive scent of musk and cedar that always made me dizzy. “You left your daughter to come spy on me?”
“I left my daughter in the most secure bathroom in the city to come see my future wife.” He stopped just in front of me, so close I could feel the warmth radiating off his body. “There’s a difference.”
God, this man. I couldn’t believe he’d actually taken his eyes off Arielle, even for a moment, just to sneak in here. A sweet, fiery sensation spread through me. My frustration blended with the rush of knowing I had his full attention, of being the one thing he couldn’t ignore.
“You’re impossible,” I murmured, more to myself than to him.
“And you…” His hand came up, fingers grazing my cheek with a feather–light touch that made me shiver. “You’re breathtaking.
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Before I could respond, before I could think, his mouth was on mine.
The kiss was possessive and delicious. His hand cupped the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair as he angled my face exactly how he wanted it. His other hand settled on my waist, careful of the delicate beading but firm, holding me in place. I melted into him, my hands coming up to grip his shoulders, the expensive fabric of his shirt bunching under my fingers.
He kissed me like he was trying to devour me, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, tasting, claiming. I kissed him back just as desperately, rising up on my toes to get closer, needing more, always more with him.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. But he didn’t go’far; his forehead rested against mine, his breath hot against my lips.
“Look,” he commanded softly.
“What…”
His hand on my waist guided me, turning me so we were both facing the mirror. My back to his front, his arms coming around me, caging me against him.
I looked.
Oh God.
The image staring back at me was almost too intimate to process. Me in this elaborate white dress, all beading and silk, looking like something out of a fairy tale. And him behind me, still fully clothed in his dark shirt, the contrast striking, white against
black.
My head tipped back without thinking, resting against his chest. His eyes dark and heated as they met mine in the mirror.
We looked like a photograph. The bride and groom. But there was nothing pure or chaste about the way he held me, the way his hands splayed possessively across my stomach, the way his body curved around mine
Chapter 130 Touched By Him in My Dress
+25 Bonus
“Beautiful,” he murmured against my ear, his breath making me shiver. “Do you see what I see, pretty doll? Do you see how perfect you look?”
My face was already flushed, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my lips swollen from his kiss. I looked thoroughly kissed, thoroughly claimed.
“Dante… you have… to…” I started, but I didn’t know what I was going to say. My mind was a haze of want and need.
“Your mouth says I should go,” he observed, his voice a dark purr that vibrated against my back. His eyes never left mine in the mirror, holding my gaze captive. “But your body…” One hand slid up, fingers trailing along my ribs, following the line of beading. “Your body is begging me to stay.”
“I’m not…” I started to protest, but even to my own ears, it sounded weak.
“No?” His hand continued its path upward, slowly, torturously slowly. “Then why are you flushed?” His fingers traced the edge of the sweetheart neckline, following the curve where fabric met skin. “Why is your breathing so fast?” His other hand pressed against my stomach, and I could feel how my breath hitched. “Why are you trembling?”
I watched in the mirror as his hand moved, mesmerized and mortified and desperately aroused. I was trembling; he was right. My whole body was taut with anticipation, every nerve ending on fire.
“Look at yourself,” he commanded softly, his lips brushing my ear. “Look how your body responds to me. How you lean into my touch even as you tell me to leave.”
I tried to look away, suddenly shy, suddenly overwhelmed by seeing myself like this, seeing the naked want on my face, the way my body arched into him like a flower seeking sun.
“Don’t.” His hand came up, fingers gently but firmly gripping my chin, turning my face back to the mirror. “Don’t look away. I want you to watch. I want you to see what I see, how gorgeous you are. How desperate. How much you want this.”
My breath came in short gasps. I couldn’t look away now even if I wanted to, caught in the intensity of his gaze in the mirror, in the dark promise I saw there.
“And when I do this…” His hand slid from my chin down to my chest, fingers trailing over the beading, then lower, cupping my breast through the bodice. His palm was hot even through the layers of fabric and the bra beneath. “What happens then?”
I gasped, my back arching, pressing my breast more firmly into his hand. In the mirror, I watched my own reaction, watched as my lips parted, as my eyes went hazy with want.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, satisfaction in his voice. His fingers found my nipple through the fabric, circling it slowly until it hardened into a tight peak. “Your body knows exactly what it wants, tesoro. Even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.
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“Dante, please…” I didn’t even know what I was begging for. For him to stop? For him to never stop?
“Please what?” His other hand, the one that had been resting on my stomach, began to move lower. So slowly, giving me every opportunity to stop him. “Tell me what you want.”
I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat, my brain too hazed with want to form coherent sentences.
His hand reached the full skirt, fingers finding the slit in the fabric. “This,” he breathed, his voice rough with approval. “This is dangerous. Do you have any idea what this does to me? Knowing that all day, under all this white and innocence, there’s this secret that’s just for me?”
His fingers slid through the slit, warm against my bare thigh, and my breath hitched hard enough to make my knees weaken.
“I never thought you’d choose a dress like this,” his voice low and surprised. “This bold.” His thumb traced a lazy line along my skin. “I thought you’d pick something that showed less, especially for your wedding”
He was right. I preferred elegant dresses that suggested beauty without revealing too much, and this one was bolder than
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Chapter 130 Touched By Him in My Dress
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anything I would usually choose.
“But,” he added, his tone shifting, softer, darker, “I love it on you.” A quiet chuckle brushed my ear. “Anything you wear.” His grip tightened just slightly. “Or don’t.”
My pulse skipped.
“I’m going to touch you,” he groaned, already certain I would let him. “I’m going to slide my hand under this dress and feel what you’re doing to me.” His voice dropped. “And you’re going to watch. You’re going to watch yourself fall apart.”
“We can’t…” I managed, even as my body screamed at me to shut up, to let him do whatever he wanted. “Someone could come…
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“Then you better be quiet.” His hand slid higher up my thigh, fingers tracing maddening patterns on my skin. “Unless you want everyone to know what a dirty girl you are, getting finger–fucked in your wedding dress.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
