Annabelle wasn’t sure how the evening had taken such a turn.

She’d gone from dreading every moment of being with Dante to...this.

Sitting across from him in a luxurious restaurant, laughing softly at his dry humour, and stealing glances when she thought he wasn’t looking.

What was worse, or better…she wasn’t sure anymore…was that she’d actually enjoyed herself. She more than enjoyed herself.

During dinner, a sinful part of her had wanted to crawl into his lap, grab the sharp edges of his jaw, and kiss him senselessly.

She could imagine his strong arms wrapping around her.

Keeping her there.

Claiming her.

And making her forget everything except how his...