Chapter 38: Valentina

Valentina's POV

The next day, I decided I needed some fresh air. After spending the night tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed at the clubhouse, my mind racing with thoughts of Dante and that burgundy lingerie, I needed to clear my head.

As I pushed open the heavy door that led outside, the bright morning sunlight momentarily blinded me. I noticed several men lounging around the front of the club. Some worked on motorcycles, others smoked cigarettes, but all of them shared the same intimidating look – leather cuts, tattoos, hard eyes that had seen too much.

A few of them turned to stare as I emerged, their gazes lingering on my ass and tits in a way that made me uncomfortable.

One guy with a full sleeve of tattoos whistled low under his breath. Another one, tall with a shaved head, nudged his friend and muttered something that made them both laugh. I lifted my chin and started walking toward the street. I wasn't sure where I was going, but anywhere would be better than staying cooped up inside with my thoughts.

"Where do you think you're going?" a deep voice called from behind me.

I didn't need to turn around to know it was Dante. I'd recognize his voice anywhere now, the way it seemed to vibrate straight to my core, making my thighs clench involuntarily.

"Out," I replied simply, not breaking my stride. "I need air."

Heavy footsteps approached rapidly, and suddenly, a warm hand grabbed mine, fingers interlacing with my own in a gesture that felt far too intimate for siblings, even step-siblings. The contact sent electricity up my arm, and I stopped walking, surprised by the bold move.

"What are you doing?" I asked, staring at our joined hands.

Dante moved closer, his body pressing against my side. Through my thin shirt, I could feel the heat radiating from him, the solid wall of his chest making me acutely aware of how much larger he was.

"It's best if people think you're mine," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear, his breath hot against my ear. "Then they'll know you're not interested in one-night stands."

He pulled me even closer, his arm wrapping possessively around my waist, hand resting dangerously low on my hip. I looked around and noticed several of the men watching us with renewed interest. One particularly handsome guy with dark curls and full lips winked at me. I smiled back before I could stop myself.

"What if I am interested?" I teased, turning back to Dante. It was risky to provoke him, but I couldn't help myself. The jealousy that flashed across his face was too satisfying. "I'm sure you've had your fair share of one-night stands in this place."

His grip on my waist tightened almost painfully, and he pulled me against his chest until I could feel every hard inch of him. His other hand came up to my face, thumb roughly tracing my bottom lip in a touch that was anything but brotherly.

"Then they'll know that person is mine," he growled, his gray eyes darkening dangerously as he stared at my mouth. "And mine alone. No one touches what belongs to me. No one."

His words sent a hot, liquid thrill straight to my core, a sharp pulse of desire that made me clench my thighs together. I knew I should be disgusted by his remarks. He was my stepbrother, after all. This possessiveness was inappropriate, wrong on every level. But my heart raced, and a tremor of anticipation spread through my abdomen. I couldn't deny it – my panties were definitely soaked now.

"You don't own me," I said, but my voice came out breathy and weak.

"Don't I?" He smirked, and I hated how that cocky grin affected me. His hand slid from my hip to the small of my back, then lower, fingers brushing the top of my ass. "Your body seems to disagree."

I pushed against his chest, needing some space to clear my head. "You're really too cocky," I said, finding my voice despite the heat building inside me. I glanced pointedly at the men around us, lingering on a muscular guy working on a bike, his arms flexing as he tightened something with a wrench. "I believe there are many men here hotter than you, and I could easily have a one-night stand." I let my gaze linger on the curly-haired guy who had winked at me. "And I believe it would be a great experience."

Dante followed my gaze, his jaw clenching so hard I thought he might crack a tooth, there was something dark and dangerous in his eyes that made my breath catch and my pussy throb with anticipation.

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm. But I could feel the tension coiled in him, like a predator ready to strike.

Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and pulled me around the corner of the building, away from prying eyes. He pushed me against the wall, caging me in with his arms on either side of my head, his body close but not touching mine.

"Listen carefully, Val," he said, his voice dropping to that rough growl. "You want to fuck someone in this club? Fine. But know this – they'll answer to me afterward. And I don't share what's mine."

"I'm not yours," I insisted, though my body betrayed me, arching slightly toward him, seeking contact.

"No?" He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke. "Then why is your pulse racing? Why are your nipples hard against your shirt? Why can I smell how wet you are right now?"

I gasped, scandalized yet turned on beyond belief. "You're disgusting."

"Maybe," he agreed, pulling back to look me in the eye. "But I'm also right. Your body knows who it belongs to, even if you're too stubborn to admit it."

Part of me knew I was playing with fire. Dante wasn't just any man – he was the heir to a mafia empire, the leader of a motorcycle club, and apparently, intensely possessive of things he considered his.

The rational part of my brain screamed at me to back down, to stop this dangerous game before it went too far. But another part – the part that had been awakened by finding that lingerie in his apartment, by imagining him with other women – wanted to push him further. To see just how far I could go before he snapped.

"Maybe I'll find out tonight," I said, ducking under his arm to free myself from his cage. "I'm sure one of your club brothers would be happy to show me a good time. That guy with the curly hair seems promising."

Dante's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist and yanking me back against his chest. This time, there was no mistaking the hard ridge pressing against my stomach. He was turned on, and he wanted me to know it.

"Try it," he dared, his voice barely above a whisper. "See what happens when you fuck with me, Val. I'll make that guy wish he'd never laid eyes on you. And then I'll show you exactly who you belong to."

The threat should have terrified me. Instead, it sent another flood of wetness between my thighs. I was sick, depraved, completely fucked in the head. And I couldn't get enough.

"We'll see about that," I replied, pulling free from his grip. "May the best man win."