Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

But he was already stepping inside, closing the door behind him with the kind of deliberate slowness that made her skin prickle.

Isabella backed away, her hand moving to the drawer beside the couch. The gun was where she’d left it...fully loaded, safety off. She pulled it out and pointed it directly at his chest.

”Get out of my apartment now,” she said again, and this time her voice was shaking. ”I will shoot you. I’m not joking.”

Dante stood in the center of her living room, looking at her like she’d just offered him the greatest gift. His dark eyes traced over her body, the bare legs, the thin shirt with no bra underneath, he could see her nipples, already hard, the gun pointed at him with trembling hands.

”You know you won’t shoot me, Isabella,” he said, his voice casual. Like she didn’t have a loaded weapon trained on his heart. ”So drop the gun.”

”Don’t test me Dante,” she said, and her finger tightened on the trigger. Her eyes were red....from crying, from three days of not sleeping properly, from the anxiety medication she’d been taking in double doses trying to numb herself to the thought of him. ”Yes, your name is Dante. Dante Romano. You lied to me. You used me. You recorded me. You....”

Dante’s face changed.

His jaw clenched so hard she could see the muscle working. His eyes went from amused to something darker. Something that made her understand exactly why people feared him. Why his brother’s death had been such a big deal. Why he ran an entire crime family with nothing but his presence and his will.

”Drop the gun, Isabella,” he said, and this time it wasn’t a request. It was a command from a man who was used to being obeyed.

”No,” she said, her voice shaking harder now. ”Get out now or I’ll blow your head off right now. I will do it, Dante. Don’t think I won’t. I’m serious. Leave my apartment and never come back.”

She meant it. Partially. The part of her that was rational, that understood what he’d done, that knew he’d used her as a tool to gather intelligence on Dimitri....that part wanted him gone.

But the other part of her, the part that was already throbbing between her legs just from looking at him, that had been aching for three days without his touch....that part wanted him to come closer.

Dante took a step toward her.

Isabella’s hands trembled. The gun wavered slightly.

”Do not come closer to me,” she said, backing away. ”Do not come any closer, Dante. I want you to leave now and never return. I mean it. I will shoot you.”

But even as she said it, she could feel it happening. The complete betrayal of her own body. Her nipples were hardening beneath the thin shirt until they were practically cutting through the fabric. Her pussy was already getting wet, already clenching with anticipation, already remembering exactly how he felt inside her.

Dante kept walking.

One step. Then another. His eyes never left her face, tracking every emotion that flickered across it. The anger. The hurt. The desperate, humiliating need she was trying so hard to deny.

”Isabella,” he said, and the way he said her name, like he was tasting it, like he was possessing it just by speaking it....made her shiver. ”You’ve been thinking about me for three days. I know you have. You’ve been touching yourself, haven’t you? Trying to remember what it felt like when I was inside you.”

”Stop,” she said, but it came out weak. ”Just stop. You need to leave.”

”You don’t want me to leave,” he said, getting closer. ”You want me to come closer. You want me to take that gun from you and fuck you until you forget why you’re angry.”

She couldn’t deny it. The way her body was responding was impossible to hide. She was soaking. He could probably smell it. Probably knew exactly what was happening to her.

”Don’t come any closer,” she repeated, but her voice had lost all conviction. ”Leave. Please, Dante. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you touching me. I don’t want....”

But he was close enough now that he could just reach out and touch her.

His hand came up slowly, deliberately, and cupped her face. His thumb stroked her cheekbone, and she could feel how cold his hand was compared to the heat of her skin.

”Were you actually going to shoot me, Isabella?” he asked quietly, his dark eyes boring into hers. ”Can you really do it? Can you pull that trigger and watch me fall?”

She didn’t answer. Just stared at him, her breathing ragged.

”Or would you rather I took that gun from you and fucked you until you forget why you’re so angry with me?” His voice was low, intimate, possessive in a way that made her stomach twist.

His other hand moved down and cupped her breast through the thin shirt. There was no bra underneath, just her nipple already hard and sensitive, and when his hand closed around it, she moaned. The sound escaped before she could stop it.

Dante smiled.

It wasn’t a kind smile. It was the smile of a predator who’d just realized his prey wanted to be caught.

”Yes,” he said. ”I thought as much. Your body always tells the truth, even when your mouth is lying to me.”

He pinched her nipple, hard enough to make her gasp and drop her guard for just a second. That was all he needed. His hand came up and took the gun from her.

He set the gun on the table and turned back to face her.

She wanted to run. Wanted to grab the gun back and actually shoot him. Wanted to do anything but stand there while he looked at her like she was his property.

But her feet didn’t move. Her body didn’t move. She just stood there, her chest heaving, her pussy soaking, completely surrendered to whatever was about to happen.

”I’ve been thinking about you too,” Dante said, his voice dropping lower. ”For three days, I’ve been thinking about your pussy around my dick. About the way you scream my name. About the fact that you’re the only woman who can take all of me without flinching.”