Page 27 of Ivory Obsession
His compliment, spoken so earnestly, left me momentarily breathless. I realized then that this dangerous, powerful man saw me—not as a pawn in his family’s games or a problem to be solved—but as a person of worth. And despite every rational cell in my brain, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to the gravity of him, to the possibilities that lay in his dark eyes.
“Thank you, Dante,” I said softly, the words barely above a whisper. “For seeing me.”
“Seeing you is the easy part,” he replied, his voice low. A foot brushed mine under the table, and an involuntary laugh escaped me, a sound I hadn’t known was bottled up inside. The contact sparked something, a connection that felt both dangerous and intoxicating.
“Is it?” I teased back, my own foot lingering against his. “You make it sound simple.”
“Nothing about this is simple, Jade.” There was a heaviness to his words, a hint of the world he came from—a world I knew so little about, yet there I was, sitting across from him, unable to deny the magnetism between us.
“Remember our night together?” he asked, his tone shifting, becoming saturated with a longing that matched my own memories. “I think about it often. About you.”
“Only often?” I found myself flirting back, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
“Alright, incessantly,” he admitted with a grin that reached his eyes, transforming them into something warm and inviting.
Dessert arrived, decadent and sweet, but it was no match for the hunger that had nothing to do with food. We barely touched it, our focus entirely on each other, the air between us thick with unsaid promises.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dante said suddenly, his voice rough around the edges as if holding back a torrent of desire.
I nodded, my heart racing at the prospect of being alone with him again. It was reckless, maybe even foolish, but in that moment, with his hand reaching across the table to find mine, I didn’t care. I couldn’t resist the pull, the magnetic draw that seemed to have a life of its own.
“Okay,” I breathed, my decision made. “Let’s go.”
The black leather of Dante Moretti’s luxury car creaked under me as we sliced through the streets of New York, the city a blur of lights outside the tinted windows. My breath hitched with every turn, every stoplight an eternity, every acceleration a promise as I inched closer to the edge of something unknown but irresistible.
“Jade,” his voice was a low rumble next to me, “do you want to touch yourself?”
I turned sharply to look at him, his profile etched by the passing streetlights. “What makes you think I would?” I countered, my tone challenging yet laced with the heat that had nothing to do with the climate control of the car.
He chuckled, a sound dark and thrilling. “Because I can smell how turned on you are,” he said, each word deliberate, his gaze never leaving the road.
Heat flooded my cheeks, and for a moment, I was grateful for the shadows that cloaked us. The idea that he could sense my arousal, that it filled the space between us like another presence, was both mortifying and wildly exciting.
Before I could muster a response, the car eased to a stop. We had arrived at his apartment, a high-rise building that scraped the evening sky. Dante got out and came around to open my door, his hand extended to help me up. I took it, feeling the roughness of his skin against mine, the contact sending a jolt through me as if his touch was charged with electricity.
“Welcome back,” he said.
“Back to…”
“My place,” he said, winking at me.
“Right. We weren’t far,” I said.
“I was hoping you’d want to come back here,” he replied, winking at me.
“God. You really were counting on it, huh?”
“What can I say? I’m optimistic.”
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal a corridor that led to his apartment. Dante’s hand found the small of my back, guiding me with an assurance that spoke volumes about who he was—powerful, in control, yet attentive.
Once inside, the door clicking shut behind us, the atmosphere shifted, thick with anticipation. Without a word, he led me to the couch, his hands framing my face as he leaned in. The kiss was immediate, a clash of lips that melded with a hunger that seemed to have been simmering for an eternity. I responded without thought, my body pressing against Dante’s as if drawn by some magnetic force.
“Jade,” he whispered against my lips, the sound of my name on his breath sending a rush of desire through me.
“More,” I managed to say between kisses, surprised at my own boldness but unable to hold back the tidal wave of need crashing over me.
Without hesitation, Dante lifted me, his arms strong and certain as he carried me to the bedroom. The world outside—the lab, my research, all the questions about right and wrong—faded away, leaving only the immediacy of this moment.