“You already have,” I breathed. “I’ve always been yours.”
He groaned, thrusting against me in a way that made mywhole body light up. I rocked against him, our hips finding a rhythm that felt both frantic and inevitable. Dare buried his face in my shoulder and swore under his breath.
Clothes shifted, shirts peeled away, hands finding skin, tracing the lines of a body we both already knew by heart. Every inch of him against me felt like home and danger and everything I’d ever wanted.
He sucked a mark onto my collarbone, and I moaned so loud I bit my lip to muffle it.
“Shit, Tru. Don’t do that. Don’t hide it. I wanna hear you.”
I let go. Let the sounds come—gasps, groans, the helpless whimper when he bit my earlobe, the broken cry when his hand slipped beneath my waistband and wrapped around me like he’d done it a thousand times in his dreams.
Dare stroked me hard and fast, building into a rhythm that made fire consume my body. This was so much better than when I did it alone. It was Dare. It was fantasy made real. And it was hotter than anything I could’ve dreamed up.
He breathed into my ear, my neck, urging me over the edge.
“Come in my hand, Tru.”
I came with his name on my lips, his breath in my mouth, and his hands on my skin, trembling and shattering under his fiery touch.
After, we lay tangled together, damp and flushed and wordless. His fingers traced lazy circles on my chest. Dare kissed each of my nipples, lightly sucking until I giggled and tried to worm away from his mouth.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, locking his arms around me.
I closed my eyes, let the warmth of his body sink into mine, and thought… This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
Not stolen. Not hidden. Just…ours.
But when the haze settled, my brain kicked back online. Because I realized something: he’d given, and I hadn’t given back. He’d touched every part of me like he’d been starving, and I hadn’t even tried to feed the ache I could feel pulsing through him.
I swallowed hard. He deserved more. And God, I wanted to know him—allof him. Wanted to learn what made him gasp, what made him arch, what made his voice crack on my name.
“Dare,” I murmured, shifting so I could see his face. “Do you… want me to?—”
His answer came fast. “No.”
I blinked. “No?”
He shook his head, jaw tight, eyes flicking away. “Not now. I’m good.” Then softer, like it hurt, “You don’t owe me anything.”
“That’s not why I?—”
“I know.” He pressed his forehead to my shoulder, breathing me in like he needed the scent to stay conscious. “But let me have this. Just this. I wanted to take care of you.”
There was something in his tone—penance, longing, fear—that made my chest clench. Like giving pleasure was the only way he believed he deserved to stay in my arms. Dare still thought he had something to make up for.
I touched his cheek, urging him to look at me. “We’re not done figuring us out,” I whispered. “There’s a lot we still need to talk about.”
His smile was crooked and small. “Yeah. But not right now.”
So I held him tighter. Let him hold me tighter. The rest we could figure out later. Right now was just for us.
The days that followed were a lesson in restraint. And hope. And heartbreak.
Because I’d wake up with Dare’s body blanketing me, warm and greedy and all mine, and then spend the day pretending I didn’t even know him.
He couldn't keep his hands off me when we were alone. On my bed, his bed, that time in the back row of the library when he kissed me until I couldn't breathe, right before pretending I was just some kid in his English comp class.
It was a confusing and vicious cycle. He’d pull me close, kiss me as if I was the air he needed to breathe, then push me away like I was poison.
