Gianna's Honor-Bound Husband, Book #8

• Forced to the Altar
• Reunion Romance
• One Night Stand
• Steamy Romance

The Inferno hides a dark secret . . . and Gianna knows it.

Gianna Dante wasn’t sure she could actually feel The Inferno. But the instant she touches her true love she discovers that not only can she . . . she does!

Constantine Romano has a will unlike any other and refuses to take Gianna as his until he rebuilds his decimated finances. After all, he might have no choice but to submit to The Inferno’s passion, but he still has his honor. Now, nineteen months, five days, eight hours and a handful of minutes later, he has returned to claim his mate, only to discover she’s moved on. While The Inferno overwhelms him with flames of desire, Gianna has apparently found a cure for its burn.

And she has. It’s a secret she learned as a child and even though it threatens to break her heart, she can’t force Constantine to love her against his will. While family pressure forces them to the altar, Gianna has a heartbreaking decision to make. Tell her family the truth—that The Inferno isn’t real, just a sweet family fairy tale that can easily be broken. Or keep her silence and marry the only man she’ll ever love, even if he doesn’t want to marry her.

Has The Inferno finally burned out? Or will its flame catch fire for Gianna and her honor-bound husband before it’s too late?

Note to Readers: Gianna’s Honor-Bound Husband is Book #8 in The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series, a contemporary romance series by USA Today bestselling author and eleven-time RITA© (Romance Writers of America) finalist, Day Leclaire. This story features passionate Italian-American heroes, the scorching connection of The Inferno, and a sizzling romance between soul mates.

“This is a mistake.”

She smiled. Hell, she beamed. She was just so thankful Constantine could look at her with such intense desire without it sparking flashes of David. “A lovely mistake.” She caught his hand in hers, guiding it to her body. “Touch me,” she whispered. “Touch me the way a man is meant to touch a woman.”

And then he did. As though unable to help himself, he trailed a finger from the juncture between neck and shoulder downward over the slope of her breast. Her nipples pressed against the cotton, so tight she almost couldn’t bear it. He hooked a finger in the neckline of her shift and nudged it down just enough to expose them. Gently, sweetly, he took the first into his mouth and caressed it with tongue and teeth. A cry caught in the back of her throat, a keening sound of intense pleasure. Then he turned his attention to the other.

Her head tipped back and the breath shuddered from her lungs, his name escaping on a moan of delight. She slid her fingers deep into the heavy waves of his hair and held him close. “How can this be a mistake?”

He lifted away from her, ignoring her attempts to pull him back into her embrace. Then he waited, allowing the tension to build. Stillness settled over them both, their breath harsh in the silence of the night. Then, slowly, oh, so slowly, he cupped her head. Little by little he leaned in until their lips were no more than a breath apart.

Then he erased even that bit of space. He kissed her, eradicating all memory of everything and everyone who’d gone before. He took his time, the kiss slow and potent and deliciously thorough. She responded, helpless to resist. And why should she? She wanted this as much as he did. Maybe even more. She’d waited for months. Nearly two full years. She refused to wait another minute.

“Make love to me,” she urged.