A Taste of Control

Chapter 9 : A Taste of Control

Elijah had been kissed before—plenty of times, in plenty of ways.

But nothing—nothing—had ever felt like this.

The moment Dante's lips crashed against his, the tension between them ignited like a spark hitting gasoline.

It was hungry, dangerous, and utterly reckless.

Elijah barely had time to react before Dante pressed him harder against the elevator wall, fingers digging into his waist, firm and possessive. His mouth was rough, demanding—like he was claiming him.

And damn it, Elijah let him.

He let Dante tilt his head back, let him deepen the kiss, let him take everything he wanted. Every sharp inhale, every muffled groan—it all belonged to him.

Dante's hands roamed, sliding beneath the hem of Elijah's suit jacket, fingertips tracing heated skin. His touch was both teasing and possessive, like he was memorizing him.

Elijah smirked against Dante's lips. "Is this your idea of keeping me safe?"

Dante pulled back just slightly, breath warm against Elijah's mouth, dark brown eyes burning with something dangerous. "No," he murmured. "This is my idea of reminding you who you belong to."

A sharp exhale left Elijah's lips, a shiver trailing down his spine.

Dante smirked, clearly pleased with the reaction. His fingers ghosted over Elijah's throat, lingering at his pulse. "Still think you're the one in control, tesoro?"

Elijah's smirk didn't waver. Instead, he reached up, curling his fingers around Dante's tie before yanking him forward, flipping their positions in one fluid motion.

Dante barely had time to react before he was the one pinned against the elevator wall.

Elijah leaned in, their lips just a breath apart. "Oh, Moretti," he purred, voice thick with amusement.

"I always have control."

Then, without warning, he bit down on Dante's lower lip—sharp enough to sting, teasing enough to make Dante's grip tighten on his waist.

Dante let out a low, dark chuckle. His fingers flexed, digging into Elijah's hips.

"Mio Dio," he murmured, voice rough with hunger. "You're going to be the death of me."

Elijah grinned. "Wouldn't that be tragic?"

Dante's response was immediate—ruthless. He grabbed Elijah's tie, pulling him close again, their lips brushing, breaths mingling, heat simmering between them.

And then—

BZZZZT!

The elevator intercom crackled to life.

The hum of the elevator was a steady, constant sound—until it wasn't.

A sudden jolt. A sharp stop.

Then, silence.

Elijah's hands curled into fists as the lights flickered once before stabilizing. He exhaled sharply, pressing the emergency button. No response.

Dante Moretti, standing entirely too close, tilted his head with a smirk. "Well, this is interesting."

Elijah shot him a glare. "Don't start."

Dante chuckled, unbothered, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. "I didn't say anything, tesoro."

Elijah ignored the way the word sent an unwelcome shiver down his spine. The last thing he needed was to be trapped in a confined space with Dante Moretti, the man who thrived on pushing his buttons—professionally and otherwise.

He pressed the intercom again. This time, a crackling sound followed.

"Uh, Mr. Sinclair? Security here."

Both men froze.

Elijah blinked, his heart still pounding. "Yes?" His voice was perfectly composed, as if he hadn't just been seconds away from completely losing himself in Dante Moretti.

"Sir, are you… stuck in the elevator? We noticed the emergency stop was activated."

Elijah exhaled slowly, then turned to Dante, glaring. "This is your fault."

Dante smirked, utterly unrepentant. "Oh? I wasn't the one who hit the emergency stop."

Elijah rolled his eyes, straightening his suit before pressing the intercom button again. "No, we're fine. Must've been a malfunction."

A pause. Then—

"…Right. Well, let us know if you need assistance."

The intercom cut off.

Elijah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe you."

Dante chuckled, adjusting his tie. "Oh, tesoro," he said smoothly, stepping closer once again, his voice dripping with amusement. "Believe me. You haven't seen anything yet."

Elijah narrowed his eyes.

And yet—he didn't step away.

Because as much as he hated it…

Dante Moretti was proving to be very difficult to resist.

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