She waited for the acrid wash of fear to sweep over her. But it never did. Hunger and want—those existed without question. So did a keen edge of pleasure. Her breasts felt painfully full, lush and acutely sensitive. A heaviness invaded the very core of her, loosening and softening and ripening. A woman preparing for the possession of her mate.
One emotion was lacking.
“No fear,” she murmured in relief. “None at all.”
He froze. “This is a mistake.”
She smiled. Hell, she beamed. She was just so thankful that Constantine could look at her with such intense desire without it sparking flashes of David. “A lovely mistake.” She caught his hand in hers, guiding it to her body. “Touch me,” she whispered. “Touch me the way a man is meant to touch a woman.”
And then he did. As though unable to help himself, he trailed a finger from the juncture between neck and shoulder downward over the slope of her breast. Her nipples pressed against the cotton, so tight she almost couldn’t bear it. He hooked a finger in the neckline of her shift and nudged it down just enough to expose them. Gently, sweetly, he took the first into his mouth and caressed it with tongue and teeth. A cry caught in the back of her throat, a keening sound of intense pleasure. Then he turned his attention to the other.
Her head tipped back and the breath shuddered from her lungs, his name escaping on a moan of delight. She slid her fingers deep into the heavy waves of his hair and held him close. “How can this be a mistake?”
He lifted away from her, ignoring her attempts to pull him back into her embrace. Then he waited, allowing the tension to build. Stillness settled over them both, their breath harsh in the silence of the night. Then, slowly, oh, so slowly, he cupped her head. Little by little he leaned in until their lips were no more than a breath apart.
Then he erased even that bit of space. He kissed her, eradicating all memory of everything and everyone who’d gone before. He took his time, the kiss slow and potent and deliciously thorough. She responded, helpless to resist. And why should she? She wanted this as much as he did. Maybe even more. She’d waited for months. Nearly two full years. She refused to wait another minute.
“Make love to me,” she urged.
To her distress, he shook his head. “That’s not going to happen, Gianna.”
“But—”
He stopped her with another kiss that had every thought seeping from her head except what he was doing to her and how he did it. “D’Angelo drugged you tonight,” he murmured between leisurely, sampling tastes. “It’s likely that you’re still feeling the effects.”
“I’m not. I swear I’m not.”
“You were drugged, attacked. Terrorized. Still in shock.” She wished she could deny his catalog of events, but she couldn’t. “And you just woke from a nasty nightmare. That makes you vulnerable, and I don’t take advantage of vulnerable women.”
“Even if the vulnerable woman in question says it’s okay? Because that’s what I’m saying. Okay. Go right ahead. I’m all yours.” He was killing her. “Please, Constantine.”
“Would you have me compromise my sense of honor?” he countered.
She closed her eyes. “Considering how I feel right now? Yes, yes I would.” An inner debate raged, one that filled her with frustration. Damn it, she’d been a Dante for too long, knew all too well the importance of honor. She continued to debate for another full minute while he waited her out. Then she caved. “When you put it like that…”
“There’s no other way to put it.”
She couldn’t argue, not about an issue as serious as a man’s honor. It wasn’t something the Dantes took lightly, any more than the Romanos. “Will you still hold me?”
“That I can do.” He covered her again and settled in beside her. Pulling her into his arms, he just held her. “Better?”
“Frustrating.”
He chuckled. “That makes two of us.” He kissed her with unmistakable finality. She could still feel the edge of desire, banked, but white-hot around the edges. “Go back to sleep. And this time, try not to press my buttons.”
She yawned. “Push your buttons. And I wasn’t.”
“No? I seem to remember you throwing David in my face. You didn’t just press my button. Or even push it. You kicked it with those spiked heels you love to wear.”
“Maybe.” Honesty forced her to concede, “Okay, definitely.”
“Don’t do it again. Not with d’Angelo.”
She looked at him curiously. “David said the two of you had a history.”