Jenna Black - Resistance

Dante went back to looking stubborn. “If you think I’m going to sit here in my coat while you get soaked, you’re nuts.”

“Out here in the middle of the night with no one to see, you’re not a servant, and I’m not an Executive, and you have the right to wear your own coat.”

The muscles in his jaw worked. “For your information, I’m not a real servant anywhere else, either. And I’d offer my coat to an Employee girl just as fast, so it’s not some stupid class thing.”

He tried to slip his other arm out of his sleeve, but Nadia held on tight, wondering if she looked as stubborn as he did. “You mean it’s some stupid sex thing instead, right? As in the big, strapping man can’t let the helpless little girl get rained on?”

“Are you always this difficult?” he asked in exasperation.

“I try.” She wasn’t quite sure where she was finding the guts from, but she actually winked at him. Apparently, she was channeling her inner Nate, though she somehow doubted Dante saw it that way.

The rain was steady now, and her hair was plastered to the top of her head. Her sweater was so far keeping the rain from soaking through, but the same could not be said of her spa pants, which were beginning to cling to her legs. Dante’s arm around her shoulders was keeping her partially dry there, despite the way the empty sleeve drooped, and her side where she was pressed up against him was still deliciously warm.

Dante rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine. Put your arm in this sleeve.” He wriggled the empty sleeve, as if she might have some doubt about which one he meant. “We’ll share.”

It seemed like a fair compromise, especially when she didn’t think she could possibly convince him to put his own arm back in the sleeve. She quickly discovered, however, that the coat wasn’t all that roomy, and to get her arm in the sleeve, she had to do some odd contortions.

“Here,” Dante said, “this’ll make it easier.”

Nadia let out an undignified little squeak as Dante hauled her onto his lap. Since his coat had been open, his pants were wet, but she didn’t mind a bit. Her cheeks burning, she got her arm into the sleeve. The coat strained across Dante’s broad back, but the strain lessened when she slipped her other arm around him under the coat. He held the coat as close around her as he could, but Nadia hardly felt the chill of the rain anymore.

Nadia felt the beat of Dante’s heart where her body pressed against his, aware that his pulse had quickened—as had hers. Rain ran in rivulets down his face, trickling under the collar of his coat and dripping off the tip of his nose. His hair, darkened by rain and night, hung in damp tendrils against his skin, and his eyes looked huge and hungry. But most shocking—and thrilling—of all was that sitting on his lap, she couldn’t help but notice the way he stirred beneath her. It made her pulse trip and her breath hitch, this oh-so-tangible evidence that he wanted her in a way Nate never had, never could.

Dante cleared his throat. “Maybe we shouldn’t—” he started in a still-hoarse voice, but Nadia was dead tired of doing what she should do. Just this once, she was going to do what she wanted to do. She raised her free arm to wrap her hand around the back of Dante’s neck, then pulled his head down toward hers. Meeting him halfway, she kissed him.

She thought perhaps that he’d offer up at least a token resistance, that his sense of propriety might put up barriers she’d have to work harder to knock down, but the moment her lips touched his, it was like a circuit was completed. He made a soft, sexy groaning sound deep in his throat and immediately deepened the kiss, angling his head for the best fit. His lips were deliciously soft, and yet demanding at the same time. Nadia’s body thrilled in a way it never had before, showing her just how much she had been missing during the chaste kisses she and Nate had staged.

Dante’s tongue brushed against the seam of her lips, and without thinking about it, Nadia opened her mouth and invited him in. The first touch of his tongue against hers was both incendiary and … strange. She’d never really thought about what another person’s tongue might feel like, so soft and hot and pliant. She wondered at the new sensation for about half a second before she lost herself again, feeling without thinking.

Rain continued to patter, and if Dante’s kiss hadn’t been warming her from the inside out, Nadia would have shivered in the damp chill. Rainwater had soaked through her sweater wherever it wasn’t protected by Dante’s coat. Drops pattered against her exposed cheek. And she didn’t give a damn. Dante was kissing her, and he meant it, and that was all that mattered. It was the most glorious thing she’d ever felt, and she wanted it to go on forever.

Dante pulled away long before she was ready. He was breathing hard, and she could feel the tension in his body, tension that spoke of a desire and longing that matched her own.

“We have to stop,” he whispered, his lips still within kissing distance of hers.

“Why?” Nadia asked, trying to close the distance, but Dante cupped his hand around her cheek and held her off.

It was so dark, Nadia could see little more than shadows, and yet she was intensely aware of his gaze burning into her, and there was a slight tremor in the hand against her cheek. He took a deep breath, then swallowed hard before he answered.

“Because if we don’t, this is going to go too far.” He shifted beneath her, making her even more aware of his obvious arousal.

By the values of Executive society, they had already gone way too far, mostly because of the difference in their social status. But even if Dante were a respectable Executive, going any further than heated kisses would be unacceptable. An Executive girl was expected to maintain her virtue for the man she was destined to marry. Once she became a full adult in the eyes of society—which wouldn’t happen until she was in her twenties—the rules of conduct would relax slightly. But a girl of Nadia’s age would be ruined. Of course, Nadia already was ruined in the eyes of society, because everyone assumed she’d been sleeping with Nate. The fact that it wasn’t true was of no importance.

“It seems to me that since I’m ruined anyway, I can decide for myself how far is too far,” she said, trying to convince herself that this, at least, was a good thing.

“You’re not ruined yet,” he murmured as his thumb caressed her cheek, his hand still burning hot against her skin. “The new marriage arrangement hasn’t been made public, and it’s always possible it will fall through before anyone but your family knows.”

Technically true, she supposed. But if the Chairman decided she wasn’t a fit bride for his son—or just that he wanted to punish her for having blackmailed him into destroying Thea—it seemed unlikely her arrangement with Nate would be allowed to stand even if Agnes were somehow removed from the picture.

“Besides,” Dante continued before she could voice her opinion, “if we were going to take this any further, I’d rather it be sometime when it isn’t cold and raining and generally miserable out.”

That point was considerably harder to argue, and some of the starch left Nadia’s spine.

What was she thinking, anyway? She was not reckless. She was not impulsive. She didn’t dive into things without examining the consequences carefully in advance. She’d felt a reluctant attraction to Dante since they’d first met, but that attraction hadn’t truly caught fire until she’d been locked away in this forsaken retreat, cut off from all men and boys.

Was any of it real? Or was she just using Dante because he was convenient? Could she possibly trust herself when her life was crumbling around her and her emotions were in a constant state of turmoil and confusion?