He was in gray sweatpants, like he was playing the role as the Devil’s cat nip, and a black fitted t-shirt from when he had been trying to workout earlier.

Casual looked good on Dante even though I was sure that he didn’t do it enough.

“Is that my hoodie?” He was staring at me, eyes glued to me.

I slid onto one of the stools in front of him as I nodded my head in confirmation to his question and reached for the coffee he had brought. He let out a breath as I looked over my shoulder to see what his problem was.

“The two iced are yours. The one with the straw in it is your iced coffee, the one without is a latte. I’m going to shower.” He muttered, sounding annoyed.

He was walking away from me as I frowned at him, looking at the bags that were on the counter.

“What are the other bags?” I called out to him, noticing that there was more than my liquid breakfast.

He stopped like he forgot about them, his eyes focused on me like he didn’t want to tell me what was in the bags, just managing to piss me off more.

I don’t like this aloof side of Dante. How he seems to be wrestling with something and not wanting to tell me things. It’s making me feel off balanced.

When he doesn’t answer me right away I look inside and turn to see him frowning at me.

“You bought me clothes? That feels creepy.” He threw his hands up, turning to walk away from me.

Some part of me is absolutely delighted to see him this exasperated by me. He’s thrown off and I like that I’ve unsettled him a bit.

“The words you were looking for were ‘Thank You’, princess.” he yelled as he vanishes into the ensuite. Rolling my eyes, I reach out sipping on the coffee he got me.

At least he had gotten me the right coffee order.

I finish the coffee in the kitchen as I texted a few of my friends, making plans for the July 4th weekend.

Usually on Saturday’s the girls and I would meet for dinner and drinks, usually some form of debauchery but since I couldn’t because of the opening night of Dante’s Inferno, I had to let them down which no one appreciated.

My girlfriends are close.

We had met in college and all had been through a lot of each other’s lives. We were each other’s cheerleaders, therapists, and sisters. There were five of us in total and it was always a scene when we were together because one of us needed attention.

And now they were begging to get invited to the opening of the club that I had told them I was going to, which I wasn’t sure Dante could handle. I wasn’t sure if they could handle it.

How the fuck was I supposed to tell all my friends I was engaged?

There would be so many questions and they would look at me crazy if I told them about a marriage contract.

But they deserved to find out before they saw it in a magazine or online somewhere. I was sure we would have to do an engagement photoshoot this weekend and in Monday’s Boston Globe we would have a full page engagement announcement out.

I held up my hand, frowning at the lighting as I walked closer to the windows to get the picture to send to them. The ocean behind my hand as I snapped a picture of the engagement ring, texting the group chat to rip off this bandaid.

I got the invite because I’m engaged to the owner

I tossed my phone like it was a bomb on the couch, turning as I heard the buzzing of calls and texts coming in from my friends. My coffee was gone, so I grabbed the latte and the bag, headed to Dante’s room to get dressed.

The dress was a silk halter top style with lace trim on the edges. Sage green silk with pink watercolor floral pattern and white strap sandal heels to match.

If Dante had picked this out himself he had done a good job. Except for the fact that the dress was cut so it was backless and there was no way that I could wear a bra in it.

It would have to be fine, there was no choice but it to be fine. I wasn’t going to be a bitch to Dante when he had gone out of his way to take care of me.

I pulled my hair into a low back bun as Dante stepped out of the shower, a towel slung low over his waist.

It was unfair that Dante was built the way he was.

Tall and thick muscled, even his thighs flexed under the towel and I knew my eyes were looking at more than I should be.

“Like what you see, princess?” His voice was laced with a smirk as I glared at him, hating that he caught me staring.

“Mhh, your fuck boy energy really gets me going, Demon. Almost as much as the cheap dress you bought me that I can’t wear a bra with. You think your dad will stare at my tits as much as you?” His eyes were on fire as he looked down at my chest.

My hands slid down my side as I kept up eye contact with him, daring him to do something.

But Dante was a good boy, he wouldn’t touch me because he cared about what people thought. He wanted me to be a virgin on our wedding night.

He would keep up with traditions.

The sick fuck probably got off on the idea of getting to be the first inside me.

“Stop.” The one word had me ready to keep going.

I was going to drive him crazy.

There was no way I was going to listen to him.

Seeing him standing there, only a towel on as the heat rose in the room. It was feeding my energy, making me act this way for him. I wanted Dante’s attention, positive or negative. But the way he looked at me now, whatever the fuck that was I could survive on it.

“No.”

My one word made him step closer to me, seeming to have to physically restrain himself from coming closer as I slid back, letting myself fall to the bed.

My breasts bounced as he groaned out, watching the sway of them under the thin fabric of the dress. If he wanted a show, I’d happily be his entertainment for the morning.

My hands skimmed up my thighs, dragging the dress higher until I let it rest on the top of my legs. I like the attention and make sure that as my hands slid over my hips, rising to my waist until I used just my fingertips to slide up, over the sides of my breasts that I’m making him want me.

Dante’s eyes are on me as I circle my breasts, hands coming around to cup them in my hands. The weight of his desire filling the room.

I didn’t have any experience outside of my own bedroom and some fumbled mishaps in cars with boys when I was a teenager but something about the way Dante’s eyes burned watching me had my heart racing and pushing in.

I want him to keep looking at me like that.

Pushing my thumbs up I let them stroke over my nipples, feeling them tighten, hardening through the silk of the dress. My thighs instinctively pushed together as I let out a sound I hadn’t made before from the feel of my fingers.

Dante’s lips part as he watches me on his bed. This tortured expression on his face as he watches me stroking my nipples, up and down.