Well, she was only human.
No reason to think too hard about it. She was better suited to action, after all. Rose took a slow breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into the gym. Dante didn’t notice her until she was nearly beside him, and his only reaction was to raise his brows. The steady ascent and descent of the weight never changed.
Not even when she straddled him.
He did tense, though. Even that small response was enough to boost her confidence. She could do this. Rose had planned and executed raids and a number of shady operations over the years. She might not have had to play the undercover role—not when everyone in the NYC underworld knew her on sight—but surely she could pull this off.
“Have you eaten?” He didn’t even sound out of breath.
She shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”
Finally, a response from him. He stopped with the weight halfway to his chest. “You don’t take care of yourself.” The way he said it. As if he actually had her health and well-being in mind at any point of the time they’d known each other.
She didn’t know what to think of that, so she didn’t think about it at all. Rose leaned forward to put her hands on the bar inside his. “I could crush you like this.”
“Careful, Rosa, or I might start mistaking your violent threats as flirting.”
She didn’t smile at him. She couldn’t. But she did lower herself a little closer to his chest. Dante’s dark gaze lingered where her breasts pressed against the thin fabric of her tank top. The room was cold. That was the only reason her nipples were pebbled and achy. It certainly wasn’t because of the dangerous man between her thighs.
He hefted the bar up, lifting it and the small pressure she put on it to easily drop it into the rack. Dante sat up, the move sliding her down his stomach to land in his lap. He set his hands on her hips, squeezing lightly. His hard cock pressed against her, and she couldn’t help but shiver. Even that little movement made Dante’s eyes narrow. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She rocked her hips ever so slightly against him. It didn’t matter that she’d had sex with this exact man a few months ago. He felt different. She ran her hands up his chest, ignoring the temptation to linger on his new scars. Definitely ignoring the strange possessive feeling that arose when she looked at them, knowing she put them on his body. “You know I wake up needy in the morning.”
“Need your orgasms before you need your breakfast,” he murmured. In that moment, he sounded so much like Jackson, her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Dante kept staring at her as if he could divine the thoughts right out of her head. “What changed between last night and this morning?”
Damn it, he really was too smart for this to work. And she was too foolish to think she could do this without her traitorous heart getting fucked up in the process. “You don’t want to play? Fine. I’ll go take care of myself with that pulse shower head. It’ll get me there faster, anyway.” She rolled her eyes and started to stand.
He tightened his grip on her hips and jerked her back down. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.” She tried to stand again, mostly because it thrilled a dark, reckless part of her to have him holding her in place. He wasn’t overly rough, but the thought of wearing his fingerprints on her hips… She didn’t know what it said about it that she shivered at the thought and then shivered again when the little motion had her rubbing against his hard cock. “I’m angry and I’m frustrated and, while I still kind of want to kill you, my normal outlets are closed to me. I have to settle for you.” Strong words. Bold words. Her tone didn’t quite pull it off, though. She sounded needy.
“Your normal outlets,” he repeated slowly. He flexed his fingers on her hips, urging her to rock against him again, just the tiniest bit. “Tell me something, Rosa.”
“I don’t want to tell you anything.” The ridge of his cock lined up perfectly with her clit, and each stroke sent little zings of pleasure through her. What was he doing to her? They were barely touching. Even when she was more than ready to go, it usually took her a lot longer with Jackson to get to this point.
Except this wasn’t Jackson, was it? This was Dante.
Desire wound through her, thick as honey, and Rose knew her body well enough to recognize it wouldn’t take much to get her there. He hadn’t even kissed her. Hadn’t gone down on her. Hadn’t fingered her. Their movement could barely be called dry humping because it was so constrained.