Pulling at her jeans, ripping the button, rough hands grabbing at her stomach, reaching further down...
"Wait!" Her mind processed the floating images as her body craved to surrender to her lover. Selina panted for control, as two visuals fought for dominance.
"It's okay, sweetheart, it's just me." Gentle fingers stroked her belly, her hips, and her thighs. His voice brought her back, anchored her to the bed, and relaxed her nerves. "Just let go and let me pleasure you. Look at me."
She looked down and saw him lay between her sprawled thighs. The raw intimacy of the scene struck her full force--the depths of her trust and love for the man in her bed. "Dante."
"That's right, sweetheart. Just me. Not them."
Her mind emptied. Her muscles loosened. She became aware of her arousal, of how close he was to the throbbing bud needing attention. A wicked smile curved those lips, even sexier since his mask hid the rest of his face. "Lay back, baby. I've been dying to know how you taste."
His head lowered.
Selina arched as his hot tongue slid inside her swollen folds and bestowed pleasure. She made little mewling sounds in the back of her throat as he tasted her, played with the throbbing nub, and then slipped his fingers into her wet channel, testing her heat. The orgasm grew closer but he held it back, until her head thrashed against the pillow and she begged for release.
He slid back up her body and took her lips. She tasted herself on his tongue and heard the rip of a wrapper as he rolled on the condom. Dante paused at her entrance with his long, pulsing length.
"Not them, Selina."
She gasped. "Not them."
"Look at me."
His gaze drilled into hers with a piercing intensity that crashed past her barriers to seize her very soul.
"Only me."
He claimed her. She shuddered as he filled every inch of her in one smooth thrust. He paused, allowing her to get used to the complete invasion. Her fingers dug into his back as the delicious tension seized every muscle.
"Okay?"
"Yes." Selina panted. "More."
He cursed, then moved. Pulling all the way out of her clinging heat, he set a slow, easy pace until her body softened and gave beneath him. For every inch of her surrender, he picked up the tempo, until she squeezed him mercilessly for more, lifting her hips as he brushed and teased the sensitive nub and kept her at the edge of climax.
She chanted his name as he brought her closer, then reached down between their bodies to rub.
"Now. Give me everything."
She climaxed hard and held tight to his shoulders as waves of pleasure crashed over her, through her, demanding everything she had. She gave it all to him in that instant. Her surrender. Her release.
Her heart.
His body tightened over hers and he gave a hoarse shout. Then shuddered as he gave his own surrender. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and drifted.
He made love to her twice more before the weak light of dawn struggled to break through the windows. Each time was more tender, more thorough, and echoed every emotion he felt but didn't say. His body told the truth each time he pushed inside her and kissed her.
"Give us a chance." She whispered the words as he sat up in bed and moved to begin dressing. She refused to cry, knowing it was his final decision. She prayed he could let them both be happy if he trusted her enough.
"I can't. I won't do that to you. It will never work."
"But you don't want to try." Temper heated her veins. "You've never even tried to have a real relationship. Why can't you trust me like I do you?"
He smiled behind the mask, his eyes deep and dark and sad. "Because I love you too much to destroy this."
Her breath whooshed out of her lungs. "You love me?"
"I've loved you since the moment I met you."
The words were strange, as if a hidden meaning lurked behind them, but she had no time to figure it out. She rose and tried to go after him, but he was already dressed and stood by the door. "But you're going to leave. I thought you had guts. Instead, you'd rather hang on to a perfect memory than reach for something real. Something messy and unsure, but possibly the best thing that could have ever happened to either of us."
His nostrils flared. Agony carved out his face. "Selina --"
"Don't. Just don't." She fought back the tears, hating to admit defeat. "I love you."
"I know." His voice reached out across the room and caressed her one last time. "But I won't be back." He gazed at her with a fierceness that shimmered, as if memorizing every inch of her figure.
Then he was gone.
Selina sat in the bed, in the empty room alone. And wondered if by healing her, he had broken her forever.
He was dying.
Dante sat in his apartment, staring into the darkness. His apartment was like him. Stark. Empty. Full of shadows.
The few rooms served a purpose, from the simple full size mattress with no headboard, to the furnishings meant only for survival. A couch. Coffee table. Television. Breakfast counter.
He slept here. Ate. Watched a few programs. And waited to be sent where he was needed. Why bother with pictures or decoration when no one would ever see where he lived?
He took a sip of the stinging cognac, hoping to force some warmth into his body. Iciness prickled along his skin and caused a distant numbness, from the outside straight to his soul.
She'd ruined him.
His fault. He knew he had been playing his own game of fire the moment he kissed her. Not following the rules was dangerous for many reasons. He combined two worlds into one. He'd thought there might be a chance if she fell in love with Daniel, but how could that work? Daniel was Dante. Eventually she'd find out the truth, and he'd be stuck with the same decision.
So stupid. His weakness and love for her had destroyed him. In a way, it was so much worse now. His one taste of her would never satisfy him. He'd dream of her every night of his life, stuck in a Purgatory he'd made himself.
He brooded and drank. This time, he refused to call Chase. He deserved to stay in hell. His separate identities existed for a reason. No one could ever know he was the same person. He needed to break it off with her on all fronts.
His heart splintered.
Was it time to move on? Disappear, buy a new business, change states and start over? God help him, just being near her was like a drug. Maybe he could continue being Daniel, her friend and mentor? Daniel, the mailman, who made her laugh and felt safe?
But he wanted more. Daniel wanted to strip her, kiss her, and make her want things she only dreamed about. With him.
He was completely screwed.
With a soul-tearing roar, the rage threw him and he surrendered. There was only one recourse. The only one he had left.
Tell her the truth.
Her accusation echoed over and over in his mind. Was he too afraid to trust her? When had he ever taken a chance on love? Had his own mother wanted his gift to become a curse? This woman called to him on every level. Wasn't it possible she was always meant to be his mate?
The thoughts echoed over and over with a haunting urgency that kept him from sleep.
Chapter Ten
SELINA stared down at the contract in her hand, poised on the edge of decision. Forrester had left two prior messages with a clear warning. Today at five o'clock was the deadline. He wanted to talk, and if she didn't meet him, the deal was off.
She closed her eyes and dug deep. What was she going to do? What was the right choice not only for her, but for everyone?
"Hey, boss."
She opened her eyes at the familiar voice that ruffled her nerve endings. Daniel walked into her office and laid the mail on the corner of her desk. She greedily took in his figure. Levis hugged his lean hips and thighs. He was wearing a Van Halen t-shirt, reminding her of their conversation from dinner. His long dark hair hung in rich, loose waves, emphasizing the raw bones of his face and the jagged knife scar down his cheek. His eyes burned with remembered intimacy and brought her back to the sidewalk in front of her apartment. Back to his kiss.
Guilt speared her, but she forced a smile. "Hey."
He studied her face. "You look sad. Bad day?"
"Yes." The weight of the explanation hung on her tongue but she couldn't express her mingled thoughts. Where could she start? The past and present loomed before her in an obstacle so overwhelming that she resisted the impulse to bury her face in her hands and cry. Not only did she need to make a decision on Forrester, she had to somehow get past her feelings for a midnight superhero that would never spend his life with her. Yet, Daniel was here, in the day-to-day world. The connection between them hummed at an insistent level. Maybe with Dante gone, she could focus on her burgeoning feelings for Daniel. In a strange way, she wondered if she was truly in love with two different men. So different, yet oddly the same.