Claimed by the Don

Chapter ONE

Ginetta

The music throbs through me, pulsing in time with the lights flashing blue and purple across the club. I tug at the hem of my red dress, wondering for the hundredth time tonight if it's too short, too tight. But Natalie insisted the dress was made for my curves. "If you got it, flaunt it," she said with an authoritative snap. And well, I guess I do ‘got’ it, based on all the greedy male eyes following my every move as I weave through the gyrating bodies packed onto the dance floor.

I knew I shouldn't have let Natalie talk me into coming to Indigo tonight. I have a mountain of reading to get through before Monday's art history seminar, and clubbing has never really been my scene. I'm much more comfortable curled up with a good book than shaking my ass in a room full of strangers. But as usual, Natalie wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Come on Gin, live a little!" she cajoled, already rummaging through my closet for the skimpiest dress she could find. "When was the last time you had some fun? Loosened up? Maybe even got a little wild with a hot guy?"

I could feel my cheeks heating at that, a mix of embarrassment and secret longing. It has been a long time since I've gotten any action. Grad school barely leaves time for sleep and food, let alone dating. And if I'm being honest, I've always struggled with confidence when it comes to guys. Growing up as the curvy girl, I got used to being overlooked, dismissed as just a pretty face atop a body deemed too voluptuous to be truly desirable. Sure, I turn heads - but rarely the right heads, the ones belonging to men interested in more than a quick hookup with the rounded chick.

So, no, I'm not exactly the girl looking to "get a little wild" with some random dude at a club. But maybe Natalie is right. Maybe it is time I get out of my comfort zone, let my hair down for once. Stop being so damn self-conscious and dare to feel sexy, desirable. At the very least, a night of dancing will provide a much-needed study break.

I spot Natalie by the bar, her lithe body draped over some beefcake in a tight black T-shirt. No surprise there - that girl is a certified man-eater. But hey, more power to her. I love that she owns her sexuality, never makes apologies for going after exactly who and what she wants.

Natalie sees me and waves me over, giggling as Beefcake nuzzles her neck. I start to make my way through the throng of sweaty, undulating bodies. Suddenly, a strange sensation prickles my skin - the unmistakable feeling of eyes on me. I glance around, my flesh erupting in goosebumps despite the club's heat.

That's when I see him.

He's sitting on one of the low couches ringing the VIP section, partially cloaked in shadow. But even in the dim light, his sheer masculine beauty hits me like a punch to the gut. Ink-black hair, chiseled features, full lips curved in a faint smirk. And his eyes...God, those eyes. They pierce right through me, dark and intense, a blatant invitation. The way he's sprawled out, powerful body on arrogant display in an impeccably cut black suit, he looks like the very definition of an alpha male. Confident. In control.

Dangerous.

A shiver runs through me, hot and cold all at once. I've never had a man look at me like that, like he wants to devour me whole. Like he sees right past my prim exterior to the sensual woman hiding underneath. It's thrilling...and absolutely terrifying.

Unnerved, I tear my gaze away and push forward until I'm stumbling into Natalie's orbit. She untangles herself from Beefcake and wraps me in a tipsy hug, squealing about how hot I look. I try to return her compliment, mustering a smile, but my voice sounds reedy and thin. I can still feel the weight of that intense stare raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

"Shots!" Natalie declares, signaling to the bartender with the confidence of someone who's never been denied a drink in her life. Moments later, amber liquid is being pressed into my hand. I knock it back without hesitation, wincing at the burn. I'm not much of a drinker but I desperately need something to take the edge off, quiet the swarm of butterflies in my stomach.

The liquor hitting my bloodstream makes me brave enough to chance another peek towards the VIP area. My breath catches. Mr. Tall, Dark and Tempting is gone, leaving an empty couch in his wake. I feel an odd mixture of relief and disappointment.

"You okay, babe?" Natalie touches my arm, her brow creasing with concern. "You seem flustered."

I quickly smooth my expression into something resembling chill. "I'm good," I assure her, forcing a bright smile. "Just need a minute to adjust, I guess. It's so loud in here."

"Tell me about it! I can barely hear myself think." She gasps suddenly and grabs my elbow. "Ooh, I love this song! Let's dance!"

Natalie begins tugging me towards the packed dance floor. Panic seizes my chest. I can't go out there, not feeling so off-kilter. I'll be too stiff, too awkward. I picture myself bumbling around like a baby giraffe next to Natalie's sinuous grace.

"You go," I demur, extracting my arm. "I'm gonna hunt down a bathroom. Be right back!"

Before Nat can protest, I'm slipping into the throng, letting the sea of bodies swallow me whole as I move against the current. My eyes scan the perimeter until they snag on a shimmering beaded curtain in the far corner emblazoned with a neon sign: VIP ONLY. I make a beeline for it. I just need a few minutes to collect myself, get my head on straight. And what better place than an exclusive lounge sure to be blessedly uncrowded?

I push through the curtain, the beads cool and smooth against my flushed skin. As I suspected, the small room is empty and quiet, insulated from the raging club on the other side. I exhale, my shoulders releasing their tension as blessed silence envelopes me.

Sinking onto the plush blue couch, I tip my head back and close my eyes.

Just breathe, girl. You're fine. You're in control. No matter how shaken that stranger's searing gaze left you. He was probably just bored and looking for a distraction. Men that gorgeous don't go for women like you unless they're hoping to scratch a very specific itch. Nothing more.

The self-directed pep talk eases the storm churning in my stomach. I blow out another long breath and open my eyes...

Just as the beaded curtain parts and he strides through.

The man from the VIP couch. Up close, he's even more striking - a towering wall of hard muscle and raw sensuality wrapped in a few thousand dollars' worth of Italian wool. His energy swirls around me, dark and intense, crackling against my skin. My tongue sticks to the roof of my suddenly dry mouth.

"Well, well," he drawls, voice a low rasp. Goosebumps pebble my flesh. "Looks like I found the best spot in the house."

That smirk is back, a roguish tilt of full lips that invites all manner of sin. His midnight eyes drift over me, hot and assessing. My stomach does a giddy flip as I see open appreciation flare in those dark depths, quickly replaced by deepening hunger. He likes what he sees, at least if the way his pupils dilate is any indication.

I cross and uncross my legs, my thighs clenching together under the slinky fabric of my dress. I feel feverish and shaky, acutely aware of every blazing inch of skin. The way his penetrating stare tracks the movement sends a dart of heat straight to my core.

"I was just looking to escape for a minute," I manage finally, my voice emerging throatier than usual. I clear my throat. "Get some air."

He tilts his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "In a windowless room?"

My cheeks flush. "You know what I mean," I mutter, feeling off-balance. Gauche. Hardly the seductress I want to be in the face of this man's overwhelming virility. God, what is wrong with me? He's just a guy. An exceptionally attractive one, sure, but still. "I should get back to my friend."

I start to rise but he steps closer, a large hand landing on my bare knee. I still, my breath turning shallow as his heat sinks into my flesh. The spicy, expensive scent of him teases my nostrils.

"What's your hurry, beautiful?" His thumb draws a slow, sensual circle over my skin. Desire sparks hot and bright in my veins. "The night's still young. And I'm excellent company." His lips quirk. "Promise I won't bite."

A wicked impulse seizes me then, emboldening my tongue. "Now where's the fun in that?" I hear myself purr. Wait, did I actually just say that out loud?

His grin turns wolfish, pleased. "Mmm, a woman after my own tastes." His fingers drift higher up my thigh, almost absentminded... except for how carefully he's watching my reaction, my shallow breaths and rosy cheeks. "Maybe I will bite, then."

My brain short-circuits, fizzling out in a blaze of white-hot static. I can't think, not with his touch infiltrating my senses, setting me ablaze from the inside out. I've never been this intensely attracted to someone, not from the very first glance. It's like every cell in my body is straining towards him, recognizing him on some molecular level.

What is this? Who is he?

His fingertips skim my thigh, raising a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He sits next to me, closer than any relative stranger would. I don't move away.

"Do you make a habit of accosting women trying to get a minute alone?" I ask, tamping down a shiver as his woodsy cologne envelops me. I tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

He grins, a flash of white. "Only the beautiful ones." His fingertips caress the delicate skin inside my elbow. "I'm Dante, by the way. Since we're getting acquainted."

My lips curve in a reluctant smile. "I’m Ginetta," I offer, feeling breathless under the intensity of his stare. I lick my suddenly dry lips. His eyes zero in on my mouth, lingering there.

"Ginetta," he repeats, savoring my name like a fine whiskey. "Gorgeous. Like the rest of you."

I flush, heat and pleasure twining together low in my belly. He's a smooth talker, this one. I better be on my guard, no matter how panty-meltingly sexy he is. Men like him are trouble, in every sense of the word.

"Does that line usually work for you?" I arch my brow, trying to regain my metaphorical footing.

Dante chuckles, a husky rumble I feel in my chest. "Who says it's a line?" His fingers dip into the tender crook of my elbow before skimming upward to trace the curve of my shoulder. My breath hitches as he plays me like an instrument he's long mastered. "Maybe I'm just speaking the truth, bella. You're exquisite."

Oh, God. His voice is pure aural sex, low and rough. It vibrates through me, plucking at something deep inside. I shift on the cushion, my inner muscles clenching. I feel empty, achy. Needy. For him.

This is insane. I met this man all of five minutes ago. I don't even know his last name, for God's sake. He could be a serial killer. An escaped convict. A married man looking for a side piece.

Or maybe he's just an incredibly sexy, charismatic guy who happens to be into me. Stranger things have happened.

His fingers brush the sensitive skin of my neck, making me shiver. "I watched you out there, you know," he murmurs, his face dipping closer to mine. The spicy scent of him fills my head. "The way you move, those curvy hips swaying...fuck. Every man in this club wants you, Ginetta."

"Even you?" I mean for it to come out flippant. But my voice betrays me, emerging soft and vulnerable.

His eyes flare, turning molten. "Especially me."

I swallow hard, my heart tripping against my ribs. His hand curves around my nape, fingers sifting into my hair. He scans my face intently for a long, charged moment. I wonder what he sees in my wide eyes, my parted lips. The blatant longing I'm too buzzed to disguise, probably.

"Jesus. Look at you." It's a gravelly rasp, almost frustrated. Dante's hot gaze drops to my mouth again, his own lips thinning. "You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? How badly I want to kiss you right now."

My pulse jackhammers, my skin flushing hot and cold all over. No one has ever looked at me like this, with such raw, unfiltered desire. Like he's dying to taste me, touch me, take me. It's dizzying, a head rush like no other.

It's that dizzy feeling that has me leaning in, erasing the mere inches between us until my lips find his. I'm not a girl who normally makes the first move, but I can't help myself. Dante is magnetic, all raw hunger and coiled intensity. He's the kind of man who could ruin me for all others.

He makes a rough sound in his throat and takes immediate control of the kiss, his mouth slanting over mine. One hand fists in my hair, the other skimming over my hip to splay across my lower back, urging me closer. I go willingly, pressing my front to the solid wall of his chest as his tongue delves past my lips to stroke my own.

Oh, my God. Liquid heat pools low in my pelvis at the exquisite invasion, the flavor of bourbon and pure male. He kisses like he does everything else - with dedicated focus and scorching intensity. It's overwhelming and perfect, like finding water after wandering days in the desert.

I wrap my arms around his neck to anchor myself as he takes the kiss deeper, his tongue playing wickedly against mine. He tugs me flush against him until there's no daylight between us, my hips cradled in the vee of his hard thighs. This close, I can feel the press of his erection against my belly, thick and insistent. The knowledge that I affect him sends a thrill rattling down my spine.

Everything narrows down to his hands, his sinful mouth, the weight of his muscled body blanketing mine. I feel fevered, desire licking through my veins like wildfire. More, more, I need more.

I arch into Dante, my fingers sinking into the thick silk of his hair. He groans his approval into my mouth, the hand at my back dipping down to palm my ass. Possessive. Greedy. He kneads the generous curve and I moan, too turned on to be self-conscious about my ample size. He seems to like my body just the way it is, if the growing bulge in his slacks is any indication.

"Fuck, your ass," he rasps against my lips, giving the rounded globe a firm squeeze. Calloused fingers slip under the hem of my short dress to encounter bare skin and he hisses. "No panties? You're killing me, Ginetta."

I feel dizzy, drunk on arousal and this man's bold touch. I've never been this wanton before, this desperate for more of a virtual stranger's hands on me...in me. But Dante makes me feel sexy, powerful. Like I could bring a man to his knees with just a crook of my finger.

His lips trail across my jaw, my neck, his stubble scratching deliciously against my overheated skin. "I want to taste every inch of you," he murmurs into the hollow behind my ear before tugging the lobe between his teeth. A bolt of lust sizzles through me and I whimper. "Spread you out and feast on this gorgeous body until you're begging for my cock."

Oh, damn! I nearly go up in flames at his dirty words, graphic images flickering through my fevered mind. Dante's dark head buried between my thighs, big hands gripping my hips as he devours me with single-minded focus, just like he's devouring my mouth now...

Warning bells start clanging through the haze of desire. I'm getting carried away, swept up in the moment. I came to this VIP room to escape the intensity of Dante's stare, not throw myself into his arms. And now I'm letting him take liberties, touch me in ways I normally wouldn't allow from a man I just met. This is moving too fast, no matter how much my body craves more.

Digging deep for willpower, I wrench my mouth from his and press a hand against Dante's chest. He stills at once, his eyes opening to pin me in place. They're black in the dim light, pupils blown with lust.

"I...I can't," I manage, fighting to steady my breathing. My lips feel bruised, tender. "I don't even know you."

Something tightens in his chiseled face before it smooths out into an unreadable mask. But he releases me at once and sits back, giving me space. I feel cold without his scorching body heat.

"You're right," he says evenly. There's no censure in his tone, even though I'm sure he's not used to women pumping the brakes. "I got carried away. You're just so fucking responsive, tesoro. I couldn't help myself."

I shiver at the endearment, some part of me thrilling at it even as my rational side screams to run.

Dante produces a business card seemingly from thin air and presses it into my hand. His fingers linger on my palm, calluses scraping my sensitive skin. "I want to see you again, Ginetta. Take you to dinner, someplace nice. Get to know the woman behind the gorgeous face and even more incredible body."

It's tempting, so tempting. Everything in me wants to melt back into his arms and let him have his wicked way with me. But I force myself to stand on shaky legs, smoothing down my dress.

"I...I'll think about it," I hedge, slipping the card into my bra. His eyes follow the movement with avid interest before rising to meet mine again. There's a new tension in his big body, a coiled readiness. Like he's fighting the urge to pounce.

"Don't think too long," he warns softly. "I'm a man who knows what he wants. And I want you, Ginetta. In my bed."

His words send a shiver skittering down my spine, a potent mix of arousal and trepidation. I'm in dangerous territory with this man. The smart thing would be to run and never look back.

But I've never been the best at self-preservation where my heart's concerned.

"I'll call you," I promise rashly. Then I'm turning on my heel and fleeing the room before I can change my mind.

I find Natalie on the dance floor and let her pull me into the writhing throng, hoping the crush of sweaty bodies will erase Dante's touch still branding my skin. But it's futile. I can still taste him on my lips, feel the ghost of his fingers on my fevered flesh. Some reckless part of me is already counting the minutes until I see him again.

It's well after three AM by the time I slide into my cold sheets, aching and restless. I close my eyes, fingers drifting over the card tucked under my pillow. Even now, Dante's dark intensity simmers under my skin, making my pulse leap.

I should throw his number away and forget this whole night. Sensible Ginetta would nip this dangerous flirtation in the bud and focus on her semester, her responsibilities.

But the wanton creature he awakened in me can't stop replaying his scorching words: "I want to taste every inch of you." Can't stop imagining those lips, those hands, that big body mastering mine.

I want everything Dante tempted me with tonight - pleasure, passion. Him. No matter how foolish it may be.