Free Dante's Blackmailed Bride by Day Leclaire

had the foresight to stick in his pocket before their meeting. Her hands joined his, helping to free him from the restriction of his clothing. And then she cupped him, her touch cool against the burning length of him. Instead of easing the raging fire, it only served to intensify it.
    He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so desperate to have a woman that he’d been unable to make it to the comfort of his bedroom. But with Francesca…Nothing mattered except to have her, right here and now. He lifted her and slid deep inside. Her legs closed around him as she welcomed him home.
    His groan of pleasure mingled with hers, the heavy pounding of his heart in perfect tempo with hers. The breath exploded from her and then he heard her siren’s song, signaling her scramble toward the highest of peaks. He joined her there, calling to her, mating with her, locking them together until he could no longer tell where her body ended and his began.
    They moved in perfect harmony, continuing a dance that had begun their first night together. The tempo this time around quickened, turning fast and hard and greedy. He couldn’t get enough of her, not how tightly she clenched around him or how she cushioned him against the softness of her woman’s body or how she met each thrust with joyous abandon. Long before he was ready for the encounter to end, she spasmed beneath him, and he found he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t resist going up and over the peak with her before crashing down the other side, holding her tight within his arms.
    Long minutes passed without either of them moving—maybe because movement proved a physical impossibility. Finally, the breath heaving from his lungs, he levered himself onto his elbows and gazed down at her. Heaven help him, but she was beautiful, her face delicately flushed with the ripeness of passion, her mouth moist and swollen from his kisses, her eyes heavy-lidded and slumberous.
    “I can’t walk away from you, Francesca. And I won’t.”
    She closed her eyes with a groan. “I shouldn’t have agreed to have lunch with you. I should have known we’d end up like this again.”
    He eased himself up and off of her. Holding out his hand, he assisted her from the couch and helped return a semblance of order to her clothing. “I didn’t give you a choice about lunch. And just so you know, I don’t plan to give you a choice in the future, either.”
    She eyed him in open alarm, but didn’t ask the question he suspected hovered on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she asked, “Where’s the bathroom?”
    He directed her, then excused himself long enough to freshen up, as well. He returned to find her fully tucked and buttoned and preparing to leave. “There’s something I want to ask you,” he told her. “Actually, it’s the reason I invited you to lunch.”
    A smile flirted with her mouth, a genuine one that filled him with fierce pleasure. “You mean, you didn’t invite me so we could indulge in a wrestling match on your couch?”
    He regarded her with a hint of laughter. “As delightful as that was, no.” He crossed to her side. Unable to resist, he slipped a hand into her hair. Cupping the back of her head, he took her mouth in a swift, hungry kiss, a kiss she returned without hesitation. “Come work for me,” he offered when they broke apart.
    Her eyes were alight with a slumberous passion and he suspected she didn’t assimilate his offer immediately. He saw the instant words connected with comprehension. The passion eked away, replaced by astonishment. “Work for you?” she repeated.
    “I can offer you a far better salary than you receive at Timeless, excellent benefits, your own studio. You’ll have the Dante name behind your designs.” He pressed, determined she see how much more he could do for her than the Fontaines. “I can assist you become one of the most sought-after designers in the world. Best of all, we won’t have to sneak around hiding our relationship