She came harder than ever before, her writhing as erotic as it was gratifying for Dante. And when she was finally done, he helped her put her clothes back on, then pulled the sheets around them and turned the light off.
And he pulled Ella close to him, encircling himself around her and holding her tight. At first, she seemed a little tense, but then she slowly relaxed in his arms, her breathing returning to normal.
“That was wonderful,” she murmured. “I didn’t know it would make me so sleepy.”
He grinned. “That means I did it right.”
“You weren’t lying,” she said with a yawn, stretching slightly, showing off her curvy little body in his arms in the slight glow of moonlight through the slats of the closed blinds on the window.
She was so gorgeous.
After a moment, she pulled the sheet in around her again and looked behind her nervously.
He gathered her close again, enclosing her in his warmth. He pressed a kiss to the side of her forehead. “You’re safe with me, love. Nothing can ever happen when I’m around. And if you ever call me, I’ll rush to your side.”
She squirmed happily against him, and he wondered at it, at how amazing it was that somehow he could please this gorgeous, smart, powerful woman who had no idea how beautiful she really was.
By the time he won her, hopefully she would know.
He kissed her head again and waited for her to fall asleep in his arms.
Nine
The next morning, Ella woke up feeling odd. She turned over and saw Dante, perfect body sprawled beside her, his face slack in repose.
He looked so peaceful when asleep, so innocent.
But what he’d done to her last night had been anything but. He’d kept her body coming like a storm that wouldn’t abate, filled with thunder and lightning.
It had shaken her to her core.
And she’d been surprised how fine she’d been afterward, even if maybe it was just the afterglow, the endorphins. Whatever happened when people did things like that.
But she wasn’t exactly a person.
She crept carefully out of bed, trying not to wake Dante, and changed to put on a bra, a fresh shirt and pajama pants, and a robe. She needed to go for a quick walk to clear her head.
She took one last look at Dante’s face, so handsome it pulled at her heart when she looked at him, and then walked out, pulling the door quietly shut behind him.
She was halfway down the stairs, still messing with the belt of her robe, when she realized someone was in the kitchen.
Cliff.
She stopped, wondering if she should run back up into the bedroom.
But no, this was her home. It was morning, and if she called, anyone could come running.
And last night, she’d showed he couldn’t control her. Not anymore. She’d taken that part of her past back. At least for now.
She didn’t know what it meant, and yes, she still felt nervous. But she was going to stop acting like she was afraid when she wasn’t some innocent, starry-eyed teen and there was nothing this sad excuse for a man could do to her.
She kept her head high and walked down the rest of the stairs. She passed him to open the fridge and tried to ignore the prickles on her neck that said he was coming closer. Dammit, why did she have to be so aware of him?
She flipped around to see him standing over her, and he reached out to shut the fridge loudly.
She jumped and made a move to go around him, but he blocked her on the side with a hand on the fridge. She went the other way, and he put up a hand.
She ducked under his arm, and he caught her around the waist. Without thinking, she lashed out, catching him in the groin.
He groaned and let go, and she stumbled back, shocked by her own courage.
He glared up at her, blue eyes frightening and hard. “So you decided it’s worth fighting back now?”
She scowled, folding her arms and trying to look braver than she felt. Even now, the past was trying to encroach on her. “Don’t touch me again, asshole.”
“Oh yeah?” Cliff asked, moving closer. “What are you going to do about it? Tell that stupid pretty boy boyfriend of yours? You think he’ll believe you?”
She blinked, remembering that day. Pulling the remnants of her shirt up around her, trying to cover the scratches on her breasts. Feeling tear-stained cheeks but eyes that were too dry to cry. And his words.
No one will believe you. You’d be lucky to have someone like me. Tell anyone and they’re going to laugh at you. And I’ll come for you again. Punish you, you ugly bitch.
“You’re mine,” he said. “You know you were meant for me.”
“I’m not anything,” she said, pulling her robe tight and taking another step back from him. “Just a businesswoman who controls her own life now and doesn’t have to take crap from you.”