Dante's Honour-bound Husband

He folded his arms across his chest. “Should I assume that if some of these are hers, she has some of yours?”

She waffled for a second, before conceding, “Maybe.”

Oh, yeah. Definitely defensive. He examined the closet and shook his head. “What did you do, convert an adjoining bedroom into a closet?”

The blush sweeping across her elegant cheekbones gave him the answer. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she muttered.

“It will be when we marry.”

She held up a hand. “Okay, stop right there. There is no ‘when.’ There is only a very shaky ‘maybe.’“

He crowded her against a row of silk business suits. “You heard Primo. You have one month of ‘maybe’ and then it’s a lifetime of ‘when.’“

A deeply feminine confusion crept across her face. “Why are you going along with this? It’s ridiculous.”

He fisted his hands around the lapels of her robe and drew her to him. “You started this, Gianna, when you decided to infect me with The Inferno. You can’t blame me if I finish it. What choice did you leave me?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Infect?”

He gave it to her straight. “Sometimes it feels like that, particularly since I had no choice in the matter.”

“It wasn’t deliberate,” she insisted. “It’s not like I can control it. It just happens.”

Well, at least all the Dantes were telling identical stories. “Your brothers said the same thing. I’m not sure I believe them.” He watched her closely. “Did you Inferno d’Angelo?”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“And yet, you continued to go out with him.”

Her chin shot to a combative angle. “Maybe The Inferno is smarter than I am.”

“Maybe it’s smarter than both of us.”

He reeled her in by the lapel of her robe. They stood shoe-to-bare-toe for an endless moment. Unable to resist, he slanted his mouth over hers and slammed them both into a whirlwind of desire. He still wanted her with a desperation every bit as fierce as when they’d first met. It hadn’t diminished. Not over time. Not over distance. And definitely not with her winding her arms around his neck and surrendering herself unconditionally to the embrace. He heard the high heels she held hit the carpeted floor one after the other.

Want exploded between them, hot and heavy. More than anything he wished he could sweep her into his arms, carry her back to bed and make love to her for the rest of the weekend. If he did, it would force her to commit. Her family wouldn’t give her any other option.

But then, he’d be no better than David.

Her lips parted beneath his and she made a low, hungry sound that threatened to steal every last vestige of his self-control. He yanked at the knot holding her robe together. Stripping away the binding, he slid his hands beneath the heavy velour and over her shoulders. The robe dropped at their feet, leaving her standing there in nothing but the thin cotton shift she’d worn to bed.

“I want you,” he said between fierce, biting kisses. “It eats at me, never going away. Never easing.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Her arms tightened around his neck and her head fell back, giving him greater access to the long sweep of throat and shoulder. “It’s the same for me. I thought I could push it away or ignore it. But it’s too strong.”

He hooked his fingers in the bodice of her shift in order to slip it downward at the same instant she pulled back. The thin cotton split, the sound of rending cloth harsh in the confines of the closet. For a split second, they both froze. The tattered remains of her nightie hung from her arms, exposing her breasts and belly. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He started to reach for her, to touch her.

Then an image of David flashed through his mind. Dear God, what had he been thinking? Swearing, he released her and drew back. Without another word, he turned and stepped from the confines of the closet.

“Get dressed.” His voice escaped, low and guttural. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“Constantine—”

He refused to look back. That way led to disaster. “I’m not David. I swear to you I’m not.”