She shifts in her sleep, rolling toward me slightly. Her hand lands on the mattress between us, fingers curled loosely.
I stare at the ceiling, forcing myself not to look at her.
Not to think about how she felt earlier. How she sounded.
Not to acknowledge that this woman is getting under my skin in ways I didn't anticipate.
Sleep doesn't come easy.
But eventually, exhaustion wins.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bianca
I wake to warmth.
Not the blankets—those are tangled at my feet. Not the morning sun streaming through the windows.
Body heat.
My eyes snap open, and the first thing I see is Dante's face inches from mine.
He's asleep. His features relaxed in a way I've never seen, dark lashes resting against his cheeks, that perpetual tension in his jaw finally softened.
He's also in my bed.
Hisbed, technically. But the bed I'm in. The bed he said I had to sleep in.
The memories from last night come flooding back—the spanking, the way I responded, his finger pushing inside me, both of us cursing. The way he walked out like he couldn't get away fast enough.
And now he's here. Next to me. Close enough that I can feel his breath on my face.
Rage ignites in my chest.
I shove him.
Hard.
He goes over the edge of the bed with a crash that's deeply satisfying, landing on the floor with a grunt of surprise.
"What the?—"
But he's already moving. Before I can even process what's happening, he's back on the bed, looming over me, one hand wrapping around my throat as he pins me to the mattress.
Not choking. Just holding. But the message is clear.
His eyes are dark, dangerous, still hazy with sleep but sharpening fast.
"Bad move," he growls.
My heart is hammering against my ribs, but I refuse to show fear. "Get off me."
"You just pushed me out of my own bed."
"You weren't supposed to be in it!"
"It's my bed. I'll sleep wherever I want." His hand tightens slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me he could. "And pushing me? Really? You want to start your morning with another lesson?"
