Does She Dare?. Tawny Weber

as she rode him. Dante wanted to chase her down and haul her back into his arms.

      He could still taste her, sweet as a peach, on his tongue. The feel of her small body against him, her flowery scent filled his senses. God, she’d turned him on.

      Down, boy. It wasn’t gonna happen. As interested as she might be—and he’d tasted plenty of interest as her tongue had wrapped around his—she was holding back. He didn’t know why, but she obviously didn’t want to give in to the attraction.

      Maybe because he’d seen her list? She really didn’t seem embarrassed, but who knew with women? All he knew for sure was that Isabel obviously liked control. And Dante was the kind of man who thrived on making women lose control.

      And it was only fair. That list of hers had kept him awake half the night, imagining her, them, living out each of those fantasies. Dante shifted, his jeans still uncomfortably tight.

      He battled down the frustration. Tasting heaven, then being told he couldn’t have more just didn’t sit well. It was all he could do not to go after her and see if he couldn’t seduce her into changing her mind.