Dante's Honour-bound Husband

She moved closer still, everything about her impacting like a physical blow. Her sweet scent. Her generous curves. Her staggering beauty. “I could have worked with you,” she whispered. “Helped you.”

“Distracted me,” he corrected. “If I’d had you waiting in my bed I never could have accomplished a tenth of what I’ve been able to, because I never would have been willing to leave your arms.”

She smiled while tears of pain glistened in her green eyes. “Then we would have been poor. But at least we would have been together.”

He shook his head. “You must allow me to be a man, Gianna. You cannot control all things in this relationship.”

She stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

He stared broodingly at his open hand. It never ceased to amaze him that there wasn’t a physical brand to mark the presence of this Inferno the Dantes generated. He ran his thumb across his palm in a habitual gesture. It didn’t matter how hard he rubbed, he could never erase what had been done to him.

“You started this the first time you touched me,” he informed her, holding out the hand she’d infected. “But I intend to finish it.”

She stilled, the prey sensing the predator for the first time. “How?”

Daring fate, he closed the remaining distance between them and laced their fingers together, used the pull of The Inferno to draw her in. “You made me yours. You caught me. It doesn’t matter whether you still want me or not. You initiated something that can’t be stopped with a simple, ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ It’s too late for that. You will be mine.”

Her mouth firmed. “You’re right. It is too late. I’m not someone you can simply pick up or set aside when the mood strikes you.”

“Did it sound like I was setting you aside when I proposed marriage?”

“You mean at the gala? You consider that a proposal of marriage?” she dared to scoff. “That was simply your clever way of removing the competition.”

“You mean David?”

“Of course I mean David.”

Constantine shook his head. “You know damn well he’s not my competitor and never could be.”

“We know that now,” she corrected.

“It still would have been a simple matter to get rid of him without proposing in front of your entire family.”

That gave her pause. “How?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He smiled tenderly. “Simply by being with you. David would have seen what everyone else sees whenever you and I are together. The very air around us is on the verge of bursting into flames whenever we touch. It isn’t something either of us can hide.”

“Try.”

“Damn it, Gianna!” He shot a hand through his hair. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I don’t want a thing from you.”

“And you call me proud.” Unable to help himself he swept her into his arms, praying his restraint wouldn’t snap. She might end up a bit ruffled and undone, but if he could rein in his self-control, it wouldn’t go any further than that. “I have spent endless months working night and day doing everything within my power to get back to you as quickly as possible.”

Tears welled in her eyes again. Tears of regret. “It’s been so long.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He feathered a kiss across her mouth. Unable to resist, he deepened it. “I came back as soon as I could, I swear.”

She wound her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much. You have no idea how hurt I was by your silence. There were nights I’d lie in bed and ache for you.”

He closed his eyes, her brutally frank words impacting like a blow. “I am so sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you. I have missed you beyond measure. But I am here now. Don’t let pride keep us apart any longer.”

Finally they had the privacy he needed to allow his hunger loose and he couldn’t take advantage of it, not after the promise he’d made to Primo. Or at least, not until Gianna had fully committed to him by allowing him to put his ring on her finger. He settled for another lingering kiss, one filled with promise. Filled with longing. A kiss that teetered on the edge of losing control. Her lips parted and her hands slid from his neck to fork deep into his hair, anchoring him in place. Her moan spoke of endless hunger, urging him to take that next, irrevocable step.