Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

MARISOL
I rejoined them, my heart fluttering with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Dante looked at me, a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, feeling my pulse skip.
I’d expected a car, but when I saw the golf cart with our luggage already loaded, I couldn’t help but laugh.
"Nice wheels, honey. Very romantic. Are we planning to reach the airport in a few days?"
Dante laughed, that low, warm sound curling through me, and even Felix chuckled as he loaded the last bag.
"We’re taking the golf cart to the airstrip," Dante explained. "The jet’s ready."
"Oh," I mumbled, heat creeping up my cheeks.
He had his own airstrip. Of course he did.
The cool evening air brushed my skin. Useless. My nerves still danced. The flutter of anxiety still stirred under the surface. I glanced at Dante, that familiar clash of excitement and uncertainty tightening in my chest.
Everything about him, about this moment, felt like a tightrope walk, thrilling and terrifying at once.
We passed under towering evergreens, their branches swaying gently in the dusk breeze. The air was damp and earthy, with a chill that whispered down from the Cascade Mountains.
I had once dreamed of escaping this kind of life, the power, the danger, the men who operated in shadows and pulled strings you couldn’t see.
But here I was again.
Maybe it wasn’t something I could outrun. Maybe it was something I was born into, whether I wanted it or not.
When the airstrip came into view, anticipation gripped me harder.
This wasn’t just another trip. This was the start of something deeper.
With Dante beside me, the unknown didn’t feel so distant anymore. It felt close, personal, and full of risk.
The golf cart pulled up to a gleaming jet with Kincade Industries displayed in sleek silver lettering. My breath caught.
A private jet. Mine now too, I guessed, if this was what being his wife meant.
I couldn’t speak. My brain short-circuited somewhere between the white leather and that marble bar.
Inside, the jet was even more stunning.
White leather seats contrasted with sleek black surfaces. I reached out, my fingers skimming across buttery-soft leather as I walked the aisle, taking in every exquisite detail.
It was more than just spacious. It felt like stepping into another world.
Plush seats clustered in cozy arrangements, a marble-topped bar gleaming under soft lighting, and polished wood gleaming everywhere I looked.
Dante’s gaze followed me, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"You like it?" he asked, his voice warm.
I nodded, still wide-eyed.
"It’s beautiful, and so much more spacious than I thought it would be," I said, settling into a seat near the window.
Once we were settled and the quiet hum of pre-flight preparations began, Dante leaned in, voice low and teasing.
"So, did you pick up anything… special on your shopping trip?"
Heat rushed to my face.
That look in his eyes, mischief and promise, made my throat go dry. I cleared it quickly, trying to sound breezy.
"Depends on what you mean by special," I said, dodging the question with a shrug.
His eyes darkened, playful, unrelenting.
"Oh, you know exactly what I mean." He leaned closer, his breath feathering against my ear, raising goosebumps. "Did you buy that sexy lingerie like I told you to?"
My heart kicked. The memory hit fast and hot.
Maria had practically dragged me into that lingerie boutique. I’d tried to go alone, but she was relentless, declaring the trip a mission to "add a little spice."
She had a sixth sense for the most daring pieces, pulling lacy scraps off hangers without a hint of hesitation. I kept reaching for modesty, but Maria wasn’t having it.
"Oh no, mija," she grinned, holding up a barely-there lace teddy. "This is exactly the kind of thing that will make Dante’s eyes pop out of his head."
"Maria, I can’t wear that!" Heat climbed my neck. My face had turned volcanic.
"Put this on and watch that man forget how to breathe. He’ll drop to his knees so fast, he won’t know what hit him." She tossed it into the growing pile, utterly unfazed.
"You’re his wife now. You have to keep things spicy."
"Can’t I just start off mild instead of full-on spicy?"
"No, no, no. The spicier, the better. He’ll take one look at you and then, bam!" She clapped her hands, loud enough to make people glance our way, and winked like we were in on some cosmic joke.
Maria didn’t care.
I blinked at her, half-laughing, half-panicked.
Dante? Kneel?
That conversation in his office echoed in my mind, his voice cold, firm: "I will never kneel for anyone, least of all you."
Maria just winked, amused by my disbelief.
"Oh, mija, you’d be surprised."
Suddenly, Dante’s breath brushed my ear, dragging me back to the present.
I froze, the scent of him flooding my senses, clean, woodsy, undeniably male.
"Wife, you didn’t answer my question," he whispered, voice low and rough.
Thoughts scattered. My pulse raced.
When had he moved this close?
His teeth grazed my earlobe, and I shivered.
I couldn’t think.
His lips traced the line of my neck, slow and deliberate, his hands sliding down my sides and settling on my hips.
Too close. Too intense.
I should have moved, drawn a line. But something deeper, something raw and restless, kept me anchored.
His voice curled along my skin.
"Do you feel that?" His hands tightened, anchoring me. His mouth hovered over my collarbone. "The way your body responds to me?"
He kissed me there, slow and sure, his fingers drifting lower, confident.
My lungs forgot their job, my heart hammering.
Every teasing stroke pulled me under, heat rising until it was all I could feel.
Thought dissolved under the weight of him: his voice, his hands, his lips.
He moved in again, lips brushing my ear.
"That sensation between your thighs... the throbbing, the wetness... that’s called desire," he whispered, voice wicked and knowing.
My eyes widened.
His words were a spark and a dare all at once.
My body betrayed me completely, heat twisting low and deep.
I should step back, regain control.
But something in me leaned into the storm instead.
"You still haven’t answered my question, baby," he breathed, his voice thick with intent.
My resolve crumbled.
I didn’t even feel myself move.
I leaned into him, seeking the press of his body like it was oxygen.
"Yes," I whispered, barely able to speak the word.
He paused, lips curving.
"Yes, you bought the lingerie, or yes, I’m making you hot?" he murmured.
My throat worked, trying to form an answer. My face burned.
"Yes," I said again, everything in me tangled up in him.
He chuckled, low and pleased, sending another surge of heat spiraling through me.
His fingers tilted my chin until I met his gaze.
Then he kissed me, deep and tender and intense.
When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"I’m glad to hear it," he said.
"Hear what?" I managed, still breathless.
"All the above," he replied, smug but gentle.
I stared at him, every defense unraveling under the heat of his touch and the tenderness I never saw coming.
I didn’t stand a chance. Not against that voice, that mouth, that maddening mix of dominance and devotion.
Whatever this was, I was already in too deep.
And for once, I didn’t care if I drowned.