He pressed forward, slowly sliding into her inch by inch, and her body welcomed him.
Her breath caught. Her thighs locked around his hips. He bottomed out, hitting her cervix with a low groan that barely made it past clenched teeth.
For the first time in years, Dante didn’t feel like a weapon. He felt like a man she’d chosen.
She moved with him,not to impress or seduce, but because something in her had finally let go. There was no mask now. No distance. No forcefield of sarcasm or sharpness to deflect attention. She met his eyes and let him see.
Dante braced one arm beside her head, the other gripping her hip, and every thrust was steady, not a chase for climax buta claim of space. A moment no one could take from her, that no one could twist into something else.
Shannon arched beneath him, hands clutching his back, her breath catching with each slow surge. Her fingers moved like she was mapping the terrain of someone she thought she’d never be allowed to touch and maybe never fully trust.
But she trusted him now, which meant she let him set the pace. She didn’t hide her sounds. Some were soft, some gasping, all real. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes fluttered shut only after she knew he was watching.
Dante murmured her name once, voice almost broken with need. She pulled him down until their chests pressed, her mouth brushing the curve of his jaw.
“I feel…” she whispered, not finishing the sentence because what word could explain this?
He pressed his forehead to hers and kept moving inside her like it was the only language left between them. When her breath hitched hard, when her hips rolled up into his with frantic rhythm, he caught her face in both hands.
“Look at me,” he said, rough and tender all at once.
She came like that, with eyes wide open, body arched, shaking in his arms. And he followed a moment later, buried deep, jaw clenched, one hand fisting the sheet beside her head as every part of him gave in.
There was no sound except breathing afterward, uneven, raw. No space between them.
He rested his forehead against hers and breathed. Shannon wasn’t trembling anymore. She was still. Centered. Eyes closed, a slow exhale escaping her chest like a storm had passed, and she’d somehow remained standing. Or maybe she’d fallen. But into something. Not away.
The air conditionerbuzzed faintly from the wall unit near the window, stirring the curtains that framed a storm-soaked skyline. The rain had softened now. It was still falling, but slowly and steadily, like the world outside was trying to catch its breath too.
Inside his hotel room, the quiet between them had weight. Shannon lay across Dante’s chest, one leg wrapped over his, one hand resting just beneath his collarbone. Her skin was warm against his, damp only from sweat now, not the rain that soaked them before. The sheets beneath her smelled like him.
She realized then she hadn’t felt safe in a space that was fully hers in… years, maybe. But here she did.
Dante hadn’t moved since they'd collapsed back against the mattress. One arm remained wrapped around her shoulder like a steel band, the other hand resting gently in her hair.
His stillness wasn’t discomfort. It was presence.
Shannon’s fingers traced a scar just beneath his sternum. She didn’t even realize she was doing it until he shifted slightly under her touch. “You don’t look at me like I’m broken.”
Dante’s hand settled between her shoulder blades, firm and grounding. “That’s because you’re not.”
She nodded slowly, brushing her cheek against his chest. “I don’t think I believed that until tonight.”
“You didn’t need me to fix you, Shannon.”
“I know,” she said. “I just… I needed someone to see that I’m not just the daughter. The cadet. The project. The… survivor.”
He exhaled through his nose. Quiet. Listening.
“I’ve never said that out loud,” she added, her voice softer now.
“You didn’t have to.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You lived it.”
She was silent for a beat. “Do you regret this?”
Dante shifted to look at her, his hand sliding from her back to cradle her jaw.“Making love to you? No,” he said plainly. “Not for a second.”
“It’s your hotel room.” A faint smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “You could’ve kicked me out after.”
