A sound rises in my throat that's half sob and half moan, but I can't fight this anymore. I don't want to fight it. Dante drops my wrists and loops his arms around me, pulling me against his chest, and his hands are everywhere - cradling my lower back, gliding up my spine, threading through my hair - and always pulling me closer. Deeper. His lips devour mine, and when I try to catch my breath his mouth moves around my face, kissing up my tears, erasing them with his lips and tongue. Taking ...