Page 188 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

She guessed this was Dante’s preferred method of escape.

It was her preferred method now, too.

Because all the horrors that had been discussed seemed to fade, his tongue chasing them away, his kiss raw with passion, his hands tight around her waist.

There was no more talking, because it hurt too much, and it was so nice to be kissed in the back of a car, to feel his hands slip between her thighs.

‘Those tights are an issue,’ he told her, his hand creeping up her inner thigh.

‘Dante...’ She looked towards the closed partition.

‘We’re just kissing,’ he told her.

But she knew he lied—because even if that was all their shadows appeared to be doing, she could feel his hand moving further up her thigh, then the firm massage of his palm through her tights...

She wished they were gone too. But they remained. And he cupped her warmth and stroked her, and then he left her mouth. His head was heavy against her as he kissed her neck and the stroking of his fingers did not stop.

‘Come on...’ he urged her—as if it was necessary...as if her pleasure was completely required.

His mouth was high on her shoulder—or was it the base of her neck? But it was wet, and thorough, and she felt a low spread of warmth. His mouth returned to her lips, as if he knew before she did what was happening, and then his lips were over hers, but not moving, swallowing her gasps as her bottom lifted a touch and her thighs closed tight around his hand.

‘Nice...’

She wanted to close her eyes, to rest her head back, to catch her breath. So she did.

And it was Dante who pulled down the hem of her dress, so they were only holding hands as the car swept into his driveway, and Susie had never felt happier, or bolder, or more desperate to get inside.

‘Grazie,’Dante said as the car door opened.

She forgot the basket of goodies, but he remembered and carried it up the steps, then opened up the door.

They stepped into his home and she shrugged off her coat. She caught the smoky scent of fire, and wondered if it was from her, but then she glanced into the lounge.

‘Someone’s been in.’

‘The housekeeper.’ Dante clearly did not want diversions.

‘Is she in here?’ Susie asked, walking into the room.

‘Of course not,’ he told her.

And Susie was about to turn, more than ready to be taken straight to bed, but then his hands came down to her waist and slid up to her breasts. She felt the press of him behind her and relished the roam of his hands and how he wasn’t shamed by his desire.

He turned her, and she wanted to be stripped, wanted her clothes to disappear. She knew he felt the same because his jumper was off, so she kissed his chest, the flat nipples, and she wanted to sink lower, but fought the desire as she’d never done that before.

And yet her hands slipped down as they got back to kissing and she felt him through fabric, felt how he hardened beneath her palm, and her fingers ached for more contact.

She attempted to undo his belt as they kissed, but thankfully he dealt with that, and then she was holding him, stroking him, feeling the velvet skin on her palm. She looked down and was fascinated, and the desire to sink down and taste him refused to relent.

Her mouth moved as if of its own accord and she followed the trail her lips made, closing her eyes as they bypassed his chest. Her mouth strayed lower and kissed his stomach, tasted his salty skin.

He was too tall for comfort, and for a moment she kissed his thighs. And perhaps he saw her struggle, because he guided her so she sat on a couch. Susie had no idea of its colour. Apart from the gorgeous fire, she hadn’t really taken in her surroundings. It was ridiculously comfortable, though, and the cushions soft on her bottom. She relished her unhurried exploration, holding him and dropping little kisses along his length, and then suddenly she became aware she was fully dressed.

‘Should I take off my clothes?’ she asked, and looked up to see his frown. ‘I’ve never done this.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘Oh, yes.’