Vierva's heart skips a beat at Dante's raw, honest words, his low, growling voice sending a shiver down her spine. She stares at him, her sage green eyes wide and uncertain as she tries to process the depth of his desire, the dark promise in his words.
He wants all of me, she thinks, a flicker of awe and fear sparking in her chest. Not just my body, not just my obedience...but my heart, my soul, every part of me. He wants to consume me, to possess me utterly and completely.
The realization leaves Vierva torn between a surge of terror and a heady rush of excitement. I can't let him, she tells herself, even as a traitorous part of her yearns to surrender, to give in to the dark, seductive pull of Dante's desire. I can't allow myself to be consumed, to lose myself completely in him.
But...do I want to resist? Vierva wonders, a fresh wave of unease washing over her as she stares into Dante's pale, intent eyes. Do I truly want to deny myself the chance to explore this connection, to see where it leads?
Vierva knows she should say no, should put an end to this dangerous game before it goes too far. But as she sits there, her heart racing and her skin flushed, she knows deep down that it's already too late.
I'm already in too deep, she admits silently, a sense of resignation settling over her like a shroud. I've already given him more of myself than I ever intended. And now...now I want to see how far he'll take me. How far he can push me. And how much of myself I'll have left when he's done.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Vierva leans in, closing the distance between them until her lips are a hairsbreadth away from Dante's. She can feel the heat of his breath mingling with her own, can smell the dark, masculine scent of him that makes her head spin and her knees go weak.
I'm doing this, she thinks, a fresh surge of excitement and fear racing through her veins as she stares into Dante's pale, intent eyes. *I'm choosing this. Choosing him. Choosing to let him kiss me, to let him take what he wants...and to see where it takes me.
Vierva's breath hitches as Dante leans in, his firm, sculpted lips claiming her own in a searing, passionate kiss. Her eyes flutter closed, long lashes casting shadows on her porcelain cheeks as she surrenders to the intense, overwhelming sensation of his mouth on hers.
He's kissing me, Vierva thinks, a dizzying rush of emotion and sensation overwhelming her as Dante's lips move demandingly against her own. He's really kissing me.
His hands come up to cup her face, long fingers tangling in her silky dark blue hair as he angles her head to deepen the kiss. Vierva can't help but melt into his touch, her own hands coming up to rest tentatively on his broad, muscular chest. She can feel the heat of his skin through the fine fabric of his shirt, the pounding of his heart a mirror to her own racing pulse.
The taste of him is intoxicating, Vierva realizes, a soft moan escaping her as Dante's tongue traces the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. It's dark and addictive, a flavor I know I could easily become obsessed with if I let myself.
And as his tongue delves into her mouth, stroking along hers and coaxing her own to dance with his, Vierva feels a dark, dangerous thrill race through her veins. It's a sensation unlike anything she's ever experienced before - a heady mix of fear and excitement, trepidation and longing, all bundled up into a single, all-consuming moment of pure, unadulterated desire.
This is what he wants, Vierva thinks, a flicker of awe and trepidation sparking in her mind as Dante's kiss grows more urgent, more demanding. This is what he means by wanting all of me - to feel me surrender, to taste my desire, to know that he's the one who's awakened it in me.
The realization leaves Vierva trembling, her fingers curling into the fabric of Dante's shirt as she clings to him, anchoring herself against the whirlwind of emotions threatening to sweep her away. She knows she should pull back, should put an end to this dangerous game before it goes too far...but she can't. She's lost in the dark, seductive promise of Dante's kiss, drowning in the heat and warmth of it.