Dante's Marriage Pact (2 page)

Her mouth quivered on the verge of a smile. “I'm not sure I could.”

He bent his head and feathered a kiss along her jawline. “That makes two of us. So, instead of crashing this very boring party, why don't you sneak away with me? I promise I won't bore you.”

She shuddered in reaction. Then her smile blossomed and the soft sound of her laughter made it clear that whatever connection they'd forged during these brief moments together had won out. The day had already been an interesting one. First, he'd received a phone call from his brother's ex-investigator, Juice, with news that another fire diamond had been found…the fourth of six that had been stolen from Draco in a clever swindle a full decade before. This new information gave him one more opportunity to find the person behind the con.

And now the most beautiful woman Draco had ever seen had walked into the reception and blew his earlier convictions about The Inferno straight out of the water. Or, maybe it wasn't The Inferno. Maybe it was just a bad case of lust or a sexual lightning bolt of some kind.

“What is this?” she asked. Her voice, though low, carried a wealth of passion flavored with a sweet Southern warmth. Georgia? Or perhaps South Carolina. “And why you and not
some other man here?” She gestured to indicate the milling crowd. “I don't understand what's happening.”

The thought of Shayla giving herself to someone else filled Draco with a ferocity that he could barely wrestle into submission. “I don't know how or why we formed this connection,” he admitted. “Not exactly. But if it makes you feel any better, it's the same for me.”

He couldn't resist. He had to touch her. He skimmed the tips of his fingers along the inside of her forearm from elbow to wrist in a silent demand.
Come with me
. It was like touching a silken thread of fire. She shivered in response and swayed toward him, giving him an equally silent answer. Sliding his arm around her waist, he drew her through the doorway of the reception area and down a long corridor toward a bank of private elevators. He used his key to access the car and the minute the doors parted, they stepped inside. He inserted his key again to access the top floor, which housed four private penthouse suites.

She frowned when she realized which button he'd pushed. “Where are we going?”

“Up.” The single-word answer didn't satisfy her, but right now it took every ounce of focus and determination to keep his hands off her.

“And what is up there?”

“Dantes maintains suites for visiting clients from out of town who are anxious to exchange their millions for one of Dantes' premier collections. I'm staying in one temporarily.” For some reason the information caused her to relax ever so slightly. “It also gives us a place where we can discuss our situation without the risk of interruption.”

“Just discuss?”

He gave it to her straight. “That depends.”

She tilted her head to one side. “On what?”

“On what we want to do about this.” He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together in order to make his point.

She drew in a sharp breath, her dark eyes flaming with desire. “What is that?” she asked unevenly. “And this time I expect an answer. A straight answer, if you don't mind.”

Fortunately, the doors parted before he had to try to put it into words. The instant they stepped off the elevator, he tugged at her hand, drawing her across the foyer to a door leading to his penthouse suite. His stay there was a temporary situation during the planning and building stages of his new home. Only one of the other three suites was currently occupied, housing the King and Queen of Verdonia, rulers of the country that supplied Dantes with the most beautiful amethysts in the world. Many of the Eternity rings on display this evening featured their gemstones.

Fumbling with his keys, Draco found the correct one. He shoved it into the lock, and managed to get the door open and the appropriate alarm code entered before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her across the threshold. He didn't bother to analyze the symbolism of his actions. His main concern was to lock the two of them away while he coaxed her into the nearest bed. Assuming he lasted long enough to find his bed.

He carried her through to the expansive living room, one that offered views of both the city and the bay. Setting her on her feet, he took her clutch purse and tossed it in the general direction of the couch. It bounced on the cushion and then somersaulted onto the floor.

She started in alarm. “No, wait. My purse—”

“—will be there in the morning.”

He reached for her, but she held up a hand before he could pull her back into his arms. She shot an uneasy glance in the direction her purse had taken. She must have decided it was
safe enough for the time being because she returned her focus to him.

“Just wait a moment, Draco.” He loved the way her voice caressed his name, drawing it out and layering a soft Southern hitch onto the two syllables. “You said you would explain what caused that spark when we first touched. Before this goes any further, I want to know how you did that.”

“I'm sorry if I hurt you.” He spoke with utter sincerity. “It wasn't deliberate.”

She stared at her hand, rubbing her palm with her thumb, before eyeing him warily. “It hasn't gone away.”

“It will.” He hoped.

She lifted an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, is
it?
”

“Our family calls it The Inferno,” he reluctantly admitted, deliberately not using his last name in case it scared her off. “When we're intensely attracted to certain women, it causes that sort of reaction.”

“Certain women?” She wavered between outrage and curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

He hesitated, aware that a deep pit yawned in front of him. He chose his words with care, hoping they'd help him skirt disaster. “Women we want. Women we're intensely attracted to. At least, I'm assuming that's what generated the sparks between us. To be honest, it's never happened to me before.”

“Got it.” Her mouth twitched. “It's your version of a mating call.”

It was his turn to feel a flash of outrage, though it was edged with amusement. “Hell, at least I'm not bugling and pawing the ground,” he muttered.

“You just roar and breathe fire?” she suggested with a teasing laugh.

“Only with you.” If the words contained a growling hint
of that roar, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. She'd just have to be grateful he didn't spew flames.

He waited. All the while the want flared higher and stronger than ever before. She was right. If he could roar and breathe fire, he'd do it. Hell, if it meant winning her for his mate, he'd sprout wings and carry her off to the nearest lair, assuming such a thing existed.

He saw her soften and realized he'd avoided the trap. Better yet, she came into his arms as though she belonged, which on some level she did. Maybe on every level.

It was his last rational thought for a long time.

He cupped her face and then paused to appreciate the moment. Her lips parted in anticipation, damp and full, while desire openly shaped her expression. No pretense. No hesitation. Just pure passion freely offered. She was beyond lovely. And yet, even as he studied her, a hint of bewilderment filled her eyes with a sooty darkness.

“Are you having second thoughts?” she asked.

“Not a single one.”

“Oh.” Her expression revealed a heart-wrenching vulnerability. “I thought you were going to kiss me now that we have that Inferno problem out of the way. But you haven't.”

“Ah, but this is a first kiss.”

She considered his words. “And that makes a difference?”

“It makes a huge difference.” He continued to scrutinize her face. “A first kiss… You remember that one. It makes an indelible impression. It deserves the proper amount of thought and consideration. For instance, are you the sort of woman who likes a slow, leisurely exploration? Should I sample your mouth the way I would taste a new dish, in small cautious bites?”

“That's a definite possibility,” she agreed.

He tilted his head to one side and shook his head. “But
not quite right for you. Maybe this hunger between us needs to be fed fast. Attacked. Wrestled into submission with hard, explosive kisses.”

The breath shivered from her lungs. “Tempting…” The word escaped on a sigh of longing.

“More tempting than you can imagine,” he admitted. “But still not right for a first kiss. Hard and fast will come later.”

A hint of amusement mingled with her longing. “But it will come?”

“Without question.”

“And for our first kiss?” A thread of urgency spun through her question.

“Kissing you will be like sampling a rare wine.” He leaned in, so close their lips almost touched. “First, there's the appearance. The color and sparkle. The deep, rich ebony of your eyes. The way they glitter against your pale skin.” He swept his thumbs across her cheeks. “The hint of roses.” His breath caressed her lips. “The blaze of rubies.”

“Funny. I see emeralds and gold.” Her smile blossomed, filled with enchantment. “And just a hint of amber.”

Is that how his eyes appeared to her? He lowered his head to the silken joining of shoulder and throat, warming it with his breath. “And next comes the scent, that delicious bouquet of flower and fruit and spice that floods the senses and drives the anticipation. And you do, sweetheart. You flood my senses.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed him in. “You smell like a forest, cedar mixed with an undertone of something earthy and highly masculine.”

His body clenched at the undisguised need rippling through her comment. “Do you like it?”

“Very much.” The words sighed from her, making it almost impossible to continue.

All he wanted was to take her—here and now—but he
fought the urge, fought to seduce her inch by agonizing inch. “And then there's that first taste,” he managed to say. He brushed his lips across hers, just the lightest of touches before drawing back. “A mere sample, to tease and delight.”

She followed where he led, lifting toward him, trembling in her urgency. “Taste me again, Draco. Now.”

This time he didn't resist. He took her mouth, the taking firm and thorough, revealing a hint of the intense desire that drove him to the brink of insanity. She tasted sweet, honeysweet and warm, her hunger a perfect mirror of his own. Her lips were plump and soft and giving. And her skin… Heaven help him, he'd never touched anything so soft.

He cupped her shoulders, bared by the halter top, and tripped his fingertips along her collarbones. She shivered, her mouth parting on a moan. It was a clear offer to deepen the kiss, and he did just that, giving her a hint of hard and explosive. She returned his kiss with a passion he'd only suspected—and hoped—she possessed.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer so she could give back with an intensity that practically brought him to his knees. The scent of her twined around him, while her mouth tempted and tantalized, dipping inward in brief enticing forays. He let her take the lead. For now. He wanted her to familiarize herself with him—his scent, his taste, his touch.

His possession.

Long minutes slid by while she satisfied that first wave of desire. Then she pulled back just enough to draw in a deep breath. She stared up at him and shook her head in disbelief. “I don't understand any of this. I've never done this before. I mean
never
.”

“In that case, I appreciate being the first.”

“I'm glad I chose you.” Her expression turned impish.
“After all, how often will I have a chance to sample such an excellent vintage?”

She made the comment with such grace and humor that it utterly endeared her to him. She returned to his arms and the quality of their embrace changed, this time becoming more certain in the melding of male to female. More familiar with how their mouths fit together and how their bodies moved one against the other.

But it still wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough until he had her in his bed, with nothing between them but hot, willing flesh, their bodies joined as man was meant to be joined with his woman.

And in that moment Draco knew. Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Shayla was his Inferno mate.

D
raco cupped Shayla's face, tilting it so he could enhance their kiss, sliding from passionate to tender, from tender to demanding, from demanding to teasing. Her heart hammered in time with his own and he absorbed the helpless shudder she gave. His hands shifted, dropping from her face and circling her neck to the clasp hidden beneath the intricate knot of her hair. A quick flick of his fingers released it and the silk poured from her shoulders, baring her breasts.

For a split second his heart and lungs forgot how to function. Never before had he seen such perfection. Slowly he reached for her, drawing out the moment until it was bowstring-taut. Gently, oh, so gently, he sculpted her with his fingertips. She trembled in reaction and her nipples pearled into tight, deep rosy peaks.

“Draco…” His name shuddered in the air, filled with a bittersweet yearning. “Please.”

“Don't ask me to rush this.” He barely recognized the
low, gruff tenor of his voice, filled with dark hunger. “I can't. I won't. I want it to be perfect, not some fast, awkward tumble.”

A smile flirted with her mouth, a mouth still full and red from his kisses. “Just out of curiosity, are you even capable of a fast, awkward tumble?”

“I hope not.” Dear heaven, he hoped not. “But everything about you makes me lose control.”

Her smile grew. “Everything?”

He leaned in and inhaled her unique perfume. “Your scent.” He circled the areola of her nipple with his index finger. “The silky feel of your skin. Your taste…”

He drew the tip of her breast into his mouth, nipping at the sensitive bud. Her breath caught. Held. Released on a cry of urgent demand. It was an irresistible siren's call.

He had only a vague memory of their transition from the living room to the bedroom. Leaving the lights off, he touched a panel just inside the doorway that activated the window treatments. They opened with a soft swish, silvering the room with starlight and brightening it with the hint of a rising moon.

He eased back, allowing the cool air to momentarily relieve the relentless burn of their passion and enable him to regain some modicum of control. When it came to the current situation, he needed every ounce of that control. He ripped his bow tie from around his neck and, one by one, removed the studs from his shirt front and cuffs. All the while Shayla stood swallowed in shadows, watching his every move with a gaze almost impossible to read.

He tossed his shirt aside and approached. The moonlight brought an unworldly sheen to her skin. She made a stunning palette of soft pearl and glittering jet misted with silver. Only her lips and the gown that clung to her hips added any color, a deep, dense ruby. He considered himself somewhat of a
connoisseur of beauty, perhaps because of his occupation. When it came to gemstones, he was an expert—on their grading, their purity, their color and value. And yet, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything or anyone more beautiful than this woman.

She waited for him, unmoving, allowing his touch. Allowing him to slowly lower the zip of her gown. It pooled at her feet and he lifted her free of it.

“We're going to make love now, aren't we?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Will it be like our first kiss?”

He couldn't help smiling. “Better, I hope.”

She flashed him a sparkling look, filled with feminine mystery and earthy desire. “Prove it,” she whispered.

He lifted an eyebrow. “A challenge?”

“Are you up to it?” Shayla teased.

Oh, hell, yes. “Ask me that again in an hour, though I suspect you'll know the answer yourself by then.”

He reached for her, but instead of touching her, he plucked one of the clips from her hair. The heavy mass loosened, edging downward toward her shoulders. He removed the next two and her hair uncoiled, cascading like an ebony waterfall over her shoulders and down her back. He fisted his hand in the strands, surprised by the thickness and weight of it. It seemed too much for her slender neck to bear. And yet, she did.

Gently, he tipped her back onto the bed. She lifted her leg and braced her high-heeled shoe against his abdomen. The tip of her stiletto scraped across the sensitive skin. “Do you mind?”

“Careful,” he warned. “You wouldn't want to cut our evening short.”

She laughed, soft and low. “No, I wouldn't want that.”

He slid her shoe from her foot before lifting her other leg
and repeating the process. Her stockings followed. Finally, he eased away the remaining few scraps of silk and lace, baring her to his gaze. She epitomized everything he'd heard about women from the South. She was all velvet softness and stunning feminine curves. But beneath he could see the shapely sweep of well-toned muscle and sinew. Strength concealed beneath silk. Did the dichotomy also represent the true nature of the woman?

His own clothing followed the same path as hers, and then he was beside her, drawing her into his arms. She slid beneath him and wrapped herself around him. Draco could feel the hammer of her heart against his, hear the hitch of her breath and feel the flush that seemed to flow from her very core. He cupped her, cupped the quickening warmth, and slowly stoked the fire until it threatened to consume them both.

“Draco,” she cried, surging toward him, opening to him, nearly sending him straight over the edge.

“I'm right here, sweetheart. Hang on a moment longer.” He protected himself before settling between her thighs and moistening himself in her heat. “I don't think I can wait. Fast and furious this first time. Slow and teasing next.”

She stiffened ever so slightly. “Maybe we should go with slow this first time. Very slow.”

A short, hard laugh exploded from him. “Not sure that's possible.”

She held him off with a delicate hand that possessed surprising strength. “You don't understand. Earlier when I said I'd never done this before, I meant that I've never done
any
of this before. If you'd be so kind, I'd really prefer slow until I get the hang of this.”

He froze. “You're a virgin?”

She smiled, that enchanting smile that seemed to befuddle every thought in his head. “Not for much longer.”

Draco fought for control. Fought to pull away. Fought to
shoehorn honor ahead of desire. He lifted onto his forearms. “Why?” he groaned. “Why me?”

Humor flashed through her dark gaze. “How could I not?” She gathered up his hand, laced it with her fingers so their palms joined. “When you seduced me with one touch.”

His amusement matched hers. “
I
seduced
you?
I'm beginning to think it was the other way around.” The last few seconds of conversation had helped him regain his control enough to ask one final question, at the very least to slow things down. “Are you sure?”

She pulled him back into her arms, looping her arms around his neck. “Positive.”

“But no pressure, right?”

Her soft laugh arrowed through him, leaving him teetering on a knife-sharp precipice. “None.”

“I'm relieved to hear it.”

No matter what it took, he'd make this night one of the most special of her life. He drew out the preliminaries, stroking the softness of her breasts and belly. Tracing leisurely circles from her toes to her upper thighs. Sketching kisses from hip to hip before tenderly finding the heart of her. Urging her up and up and up until she hovered just within reach of the peak.

Satisfied that her pleasure was at its highest point, he carefully mated his body to hers, easing into her. Teasing and tempting as he penetrated. Moving. Then thrusting. Finally, driving. Edging her closer and closer to that tantalizing moment of climax. She matched his rhythm like a woman born to the dance. Her skin acquired a pearlescent sheen, flushed with passion. And when she gazed up at him, her eyes were ocean-deep, midnight-black and filled with the wonder of newfound desire.

He watched her climb, watched her climax knot the muscles of her body and burn in her eyes. Heard the pleasure
of it ripped from her throat as she bowed backward, helpless beneath the onslaught. And he followed her over, one with her in the ultimate melding of male to female. Never had it been like this with any other woman. And he knew—knew beyond doubt and to the very core—that it never would be again. Only with this woman would he experience a bond that took him to such heights.

The aftermath hit and they collapsed into each other's arms. A long moment passed where neither of them had the breath or energy to speak, a moment out of time. A moment where, as a Dante, Draco recognized the power of The Inferno and surrendered to it.

He didn't understand how it had happened or why, but this woman was his soul mate, their destinies woven together in a tapestry just beginning. He had no idea what shape the final picture would take, only that they were bound together from this time forward. He couldn't help but wonder how Shayla would react when she discovered the extent of their bond.

Gently, he rolled to one side and tucked her close. One thing he knew for certain, it would take time to claim this woman. She was quicksilver, impossible to pin down, held only through desire and temptation. She would have to come to him, be coaxed into his arms, his bed and his life through patience—not something he excelled at. But win her he would and before she knew it she'd wake up with a ring on her finger and a husband at her side.

He thought they slept for a short time because when he moved again it felt as though the night had deepened. With a groan, he levered onto an elbow and forked his fingers into her hair. She blinked sleepily at him, her smile filled with sweet delight.

“Hello, there,” she murmured.

“I believe you had a question a while ago,” he said in a
low, husky voice. “Something about whether our lovemaking would be as good as our kisses. Care to offer an opinion?”

“That's right. I did wonder about that.” She wrinkled her brow, pretending to give it serious consideration. “Your kisses are definitely superb. I had serious doubts that anything could surpass them.”

“Well, hell,” he grumbled. “Now you have me worried.”

“As for your lovemaking…”

“Seriously worried.”

“…and taking into consideration that I don't have a basis for comparison…”

“Duly noted.”

Her teasing expression faded, replaced by a satisfaction he couldn't mistake. “It was beyond imagination, Draco.” Remnants of their shared passion underscored her comment. “I never realized it could be so wonderful.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “So you admit that we Dantes—or at least this Dante—is talented in more arenas than just the jewelry business?”

The instant the question left his mouth she stiffened beneath him, staring in shocked disbelief. “
What
did you say?” The question came out low and furious and filled with feminine outrage.

He froze. “What's wrong?” Because, clearly, something was. It must have been something he said. It sure as hell couldn't have been anything he'd done. That had been as close to perfection as he'd ever experienced. “Shayla?”

Her breathing came swift and shallow, almost panicked. “You never told me your last name. Remember, we agreed? When we first met, you just said Draco.”

He stared blankly. “What does that matter now? We're not at the reception and I promise I won't tell the rest of my relatives that you crashed the party.”

She shoved at his chest. “But you're a Dante.”

He kept her pinned in place, determined to have this out, suspecting she'd run if he let her go. “I brought you up here in a private elevator. I used a key, for crying out loud. Who the hell would have access to this floor and this suite if not a Dante?”

“You told me the apartments were reserved for clients. I assumed you were a client of the Dantes.” She thumped his chest with her fist. He reluctantly shifted back. The instant he did she squirmed out from beneath him and snatched the sheet against her chest, putting as much distance between them as the bed allowed. “So, it's true? You…you're a
Dante?
”

He glared at her, offended. “You say that as though it were a dirty word. What the hell's wrong with being a Dante?”

 

Shayla scooped up the wings of her hair and hooked them behind her ears. How could this have happened? How could she not have realized? The one time, the very first time, she allowed passion to override common sense
this
happened. She'd given her virginity to the one man she should have avoided at all costs, whose family had destroyed her own and left them utterly destitute. The family who, according to her grandmother, were responsible for the death of Shayla's parents. How was that possible?
Why wasn't Draco on the list?
If it had been she'd have instantly made the connection and none of this would have happened.

She fought to keep from weeping. In a blink of the eye, something so spectacularly right had turned hideously wrong. It was as though the fates were conspiring against her. What next? Would her proposal to the Dantes also end in disaster because of her foolishness this night? Would Derek Algier call and tell her he'd changed his mind about hiring her? Would her precious chance at freedom evaporate with the coming of the morning sun?

Draco continued to wait for Shayla to answer his question,
looking hard and fierce and dangerously male, epitomizing the nature of his name. She moistened her lips, scrambling to come up with an excuse he'd buy.

“I guess there's nothing wrong with being a Dante,” she conceded. Okay, lied. “I just… I didn't know and—”

He slowly relaxed, sliding back into his role of lover. “Got it. You're intimidated.”

“Intimidated!” More than anything she wanted to escape the bed, but considering she'd be confronting the cocky bastard totally nude, she forced herself to stay put. She struggled to keep any hint of insult from her voice. “I'm not intimidated,” she corrected with a calm she was far from feeling.