While she babbled happily, Dante appeared from the pantry with an apron and approached me. Instead of handing it over, he stood behind me, close enough I could feel his heat, and reached around my body to tie the fabric around my waist. Once secured, he lifted my hair with one hand to tie the other strings beneath it. But he didn’t. Instead, his hot breath fanned over the back of my neck, followed closely by the warm press of his nose skimming along the side of my throat. “Mmm,” he hummed, the vibration tickling thin skin. “You smell intossicante.”
