The first brush was electric, sending shockwaves down my spine. She tasted like salt and sweetness, and her lips were just as warm as I remembered. For a moment, we both froze, suspended in the sensation. Then she made a small, needy sound in the back of her throat, and I was lost.
I groaned and ran my tongue along the seam of her lips, asking her to part, which she did. I entered, tasting, teasing, my tongue tangling with hers in a dance that hit me right beneath the naval.
Her hands flew to my shoulders, fingers curling tight as her nails bit into my skin. The sting only made me hungrier. I shifted, weight pressing into the mat as I braced myself with one arm, the other slipping beneath her head to cradle it—tilting her face just the way I wanted, so I could kiss her deeper, slower, like I had all day to ruin her.
Her tongue met mine stroke for stroke, pushing back, challenging. She had always kissed like that—giving as good as she got, never passive. It drove me crazy then, and it drives me crazy now.
My hand slid down her side to her hip, squeezing gently, then back up, brushing the side of her breast through her tank top. She whimpered into my mouth, her legs parting slightly, allowing me to settle more fully between them.
And every cell in my body screamed for more, to take this further, to finally have what I’d been denying myself for weeks.
Chapter 12 - Alisa
His lips moved against mine like he was starving for the taste of me, and god, I was just as famished.
The kiss sent electricity racing through my body, and it settled permanently between my legs. I arched up against him, my breasts against his chest, my body remembering his like yesterday.
There was nothing awkward about being with him, nothing less-than. Together, we still felt like fire devouring all in our path.
Dante’s tongue was everywhere. Against mine, tracing the ridges of my upper mouth, crushing against my inner cheeks. I met him stroke for stroke, and my entire body relaxed as the kiss stayed hot, but turned lazy. Comfortable. Perfect.
I dug my nails into his shoulders and marveled at how strong he was. I forgot all about oxygen and breathed just him, in disbelief that the man who had haunted my dreams for years was hovering right above me.
I soaked in the moment for a permanent place in my mind.
His hand slid down my side, tracing a tingling path along my ribs before reaching the hem of my tank top. He broke the kiss just long enough to look into my eyes. I lifted my shoulders off the mat, giving him access.
That was all he needed. He gave me a lazy, sexy little half-grin and peeled my sweat-dampened tank top up and over my head, tossing it somewhere behind him.
“God, Alisa,” he breathed, his eyes darkening as they traveled down to my sports bra. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
His words melted through me like hot honey.
Dante lowered his head, pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat. I swallowed hard, feeling my skin tickle against his mouth. He worked his way down, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, down to the swell of my breasts above my sports bra.
Instead of removing it as I so wanted him to, he cupped my breasts through the fabric, his thumbs circling my nipples until they pebbled and I writhed. I felt my pussy clench and moaned, my head falling back against the mat.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he confessed. “About touching you again. Hearing those sounds you make.”
He then bit into my bra, over my nipple. I cried out, threading my fingers through his hair to hold him there.
“Take it off,” I begged.
Dante leaned back slightly and smiled before peeling my bra up and over my head, leaving me naked from the waist up. The hunger in his eyes as he looked down at me?
God. It made me feel powerful. Invincible.
“Stunning,” he whispered, cupping my bare breasts, his eyes so fixed and hungry that I felt myself blush.
His thumbs brushed over my nipples, and I bit my lip to hold back a whimper. But when his mouth closed over one peaked bud, sucking hard while his tongue flicked against the tip, I couldn’t hold back the animalistic moan that tore from my throat.
“Dante,” I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders. “Oh god.”
He hummed against my breast and his free hand kneaded my other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers in song with the strokes of his tongue.
My hips moved without thought, seeking more against him. I could feel him hard against my thigh, straining through his shorts.
God, he wanted me just as bad, and I felt myself soak.
