Dante's Temporary Fiancée

He lowered her to her feet once they were inside and she looked around, curious. If anything, the room confirmed her opinion of him. The furnishings were distinctly masculine, powerful and well built, with strong sweeping lines. But there was also an elegance of form and a richness of color both in the decor and the warmth of the wood accents and trim. If she’d been shown a hundred different rooms and asked which belonged to Rafe, she’d have chosen this one in an instant.

The door swung shut behind her with a loud click and she turned to discover him watching her, the intensity of his gaze eerily similar to Kiko’s. “Welcome to my den,” Rafe said.

She attempted a smile, with only limited success. “Am I your Little Red Riding Hood?”

He approached, yanking his shirt over his head as he came. There was something raw and elemental in the way he moved and in the manner in which he regarded her. “Not even close.”

Her smile faded. The wash of emotions thickening the air between them was far too potent for levity. She responded to the scent of desire, to the perfume of want, feeling it stir her blood and feed her hunger. Her body ripened in anticipation, flowering with the need to have him on her and in her. To be possessed and to be the possessor.

“Then what am I?” she whispered.

“Don’t you know?” He backed her toward the bed. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

In that instant she understood. Knew what he was to her and she to him.

She was his mate.

She could see it in his stance and in the possessiveness of his gaze, in the timbre of his voice and the strength of his desire. By bringing her here, he’d lowered his guard and allowed her into the most private part of his home…into the most private part of himself.

Even as she surrendered to his touch, a part of her wept. He’d finally opened himself to her, and in a few short weeks—possibly in just days—she was going to destroy not just his trust, but any hope of his ever loving her.

Nine

The closer they came to the lake house over the course of the three hour drive, the more Larkin’s tension increased. Rafe could feel it pouring off her in waves. It didn’t take a genius to guess the cause.

“No one’s going to know,” he told her.

She tilted her head to one side and peered at him over a spare set of his sunglasses, since she didn’t own a pair of her own. “They’re not going to know that we’re sleeping together? Or they’re not going to know that our engagement is a sham?”

His mouth twitched in amusement at the way the glasses swamped her delicate features. “Yes.”

She considered that for a moment before releasing a low, husky laugh. “You’re right. Blame it on an overly active sense of guilt.”

“Guilt because you’re sleeping with me, or guilt because our engagement’s a sham?”

She shot him a swift grin. “Yes.”

“Let’s take care of your first concern.” He spared her a heated look. “Sex.”

“I believe you take care of that on a regular basis,” she responded promptly.

“I do my best,” he replied with impressive modesty. “Fortunately for you, you’re about to discover that the engagement ring you’re wearing is magical.”

She held it out, admiring the way it caught and refracted the light. “It is?”

“Without question. The minute I put it on your finger, it created a net of blissful ignorance.”

“Funny. I don’t feel blissfully ignorant.”

He snorted. “Not you. My family.”

“Ah.” To his relief, she began to relax. “And I assume this magical net keeps everyone from knowing we’re sleeping together?”

“Without question. They may suspect, but the ring will cause them to turn a blind eye to it.”

“Even Primo and Nonna?”

“Especially Primo and Nonna,” he confirmed.

“And my other concern?”

That eventuality continued to hover between them like a malevolent cloud. “The reality—or lack thereof—of our engagement is also a nonissue.”

“And why is that?” she asked.

He could hear the intense curiosity in her voice, along with a yearning that he found quite satisfying. “I have a plan.”