Chapter 8 Discoveries

Olivia Fernandes

The moment I found myself lying there, watching Dante stand tall in front of me, it felt like my heart was clawing at the walls of my chest, desperate to break free. Each frantic beat echoed inside me, thunderous and wild, like a secret that refused to stay hidden. It wanted to scream the frenzy unraveling within to bare it all.

I could hardly breathe. My lungs tightened under the weight of anticipation. My lips parted, damp with need, as I fought not to lose myself completely in the gravity of him. There was something in the air between us-thick, electric, almost tangible. Something I couldn't name even if I tried. It wasn't just desire. It was hunger. Raw. Undeniable. Urgent.

"Are you alright?" Dante asked, voice low and impossibly gentle, as he knelt before the sofa like a worshipper at an altar. His fingers, long and sure, reached for my feet, and the sheer tenderness of the gesture made my body melt into the cushions.

I could only nod, words lost somewhere between my throat and my heartbeat, watching as he undid the delicate straps of my sandals with excruciating care. His fingertips skimmed along the curve of my ankles, then slowly up the line of my calves, tracing heat into my skin and sending delicious tremors dancing up my spine. But it wasn't just the touch- it was his gaze. Intent. Burning. Like every inch of me was something sacred, something to be discovered and revered.

And he was enjoying this- my reaction, my unraveling. I could see the curve of his lips, the glint in his eyes. Dante knew exactly what he was doing. There was experience in every move, a grounded, confident rhythm that screamed he'd been here before. But still, despite every lover he'd ever known, I felt it-this wasn't just lust. This wasn't temporary.

When his hands reached my thighs, he gripped them firmly-his fingers digging into the flesh like he needed the contact as much as I did. My breath caught, my core clenched, and I felt my body tremble beneath his touch.

"You're just... too fucking delicious," he murmured, his voice thick with want as he eased my dress up my thighs, revealing soft skin that quivered beneath his breath. "You still want to keep going?"

"Please," I whispered, and the sound barely felt like mine. I was trembling, aching, practically begging.

"Will you do everything I say, Olivia?" he asked, lips brushing the sensitive skin of my thigh, his warm breath fanning out in slow, maddening waves. He kissed the inside of my leg-slow, savoring every inch-and I could feel him inhale, catching the scent of my lotion, of me. "Will you be good for me?"

I smirked, my lips curling into something bold and wicked I didn't know I had in me.

"You'll have to find out, Dante," I teased, voice breathy but defiant, and I saw the flicker in his eyes, saw how my challenge lit a fire in him. His jaw tensed. He raised an eyebrow, amused and provoked, and then his hands tightened on my thighs before spreading them open.

"I can see it in your eyes... you're a little tease, aren't you?" he said, voice low and rough, staring straight into me. And for a split second, the weight of his gaze cracked something open-something insecure, something fragile.

What if I wasn't enough? What if I disappointed him?

But the way he looked at me in that moment-like I was the only thing that mattered-made those doubts crumble. Dante wanted me. Desperately. Entirely.

His fingers slipped over the lace of my panties, featherlight and maddening, and I stilled. He took his time, every motion calculated, and I adored him for it. Dante was the kind of man who didn't rush pleasure-he crafted it. His mouth hovered above my most sensitive place, lips brushing the lace, teasing me through the fabric until I arched beneath him, desperate for more.

"We're just getting started, amore," he whispered, voice dark and reverent, as he pushed the damp lace aside and exposed the slick heat beneath. "You're soaked... Olivia, what am I going to do with you?"

I could see the strain in him, the way his arousal pressed hard against his pants. He was holding back, barely-but holding. And I could feel the tension in him, the battle between patience and the primal need to take me here and now.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, unsure why shame suddenly threaded through my voice.

"Don't ever apologize for this," he growled, surging up to kiss me, fierce and full of longing. His mouth claimed mine, stealing the air from my lungs and replacing it with fire.

When he slipped the strap of my dress down my shoulder, a shiver of anticipation rippled through me. I was ready. I needed to give in.

"Should I take this off?" I asked, tugging the fabric down with shaking hands, eager to be rid of the barrier between us.

"I've got scissors that could make that easier," he chuckled darkly. I laughed lightly, letting the tension loosen as I pulled him back down to me.

We kissed again, and this time the hunger was mutual. Raw. Desperate. His tongue slid against mine, hot and slow, making me whimper into his mouth. I pressed into him, needing more, craving the moment he'd finally claim me completely.

"Keep going or I swear I'll explode," I gasped against his lips, and he laughed, the sound rough and delicious.

I lay back again, clad in nothing but the lingerie I'd picked out hours before, without the faintest clue of where the night would lead. Now, with Dante's eyes roaming hungrily over my body, I knew: I had chosen perfectly.

He settled between my thighs, the weight of his body a delicious pressure. When he hooked his fingers around my panties and pulled them off with a roughness that bordered on savage, I let out a breathless moan. I didn't care. I didn't want gentle. I wanted him.

And then Dante, with his trademark control and slow-burning heat, finally gave me a taste of what he could do.

And I knew-I knew-I was about to lose my fucking mind.