“Really?” He shrugged. “So why the secret?”
“He doesn’t...” I blew out a breath. “He thinks hobbies are distractions.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Too many people saying your name together with the worddistraction, if you ask me.”
“Well, we’re not talking about me,” I reminded him, shifting uncomfortably. “You can’t be so volatile like you were today,” I blurted. “You can’t make yourself a target. Is this what the fight the other week was about?”
Dante gave a half shrug, and I felt the panic in my chest thumping against my rib cage.
“I’m scared for you.” The confession ripped out of me, louder than I intended, my voice cracking at the edges. “You act like none of this matters, like you’re untouchable, but you’re not, Dante. One wrong move and you could lose football, you could lose everything you’ve worked for. And I—”
I snapped my mouth shut before the rest could fall out, before I told him that I’d lose too. I couldn’t stomach watching him burn himself out for the sake of his pride or anger at the coaching staff.
His jaw flexed once, twice. He didn’t say anything right away — just studied me like I’d said something impossible.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it. “Don’t waste your breath worrying about me, Savage. I don’t need saving.”
The way he said it — low, rough, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me — only made my stomach twist tighter.
For a moment, neither of us moved. His stare locked on mine, daring me to look away.
I could have. I could have let him think I didn’t care, let him walk out with those sharp edges still intact. But my chest felt too tight, the words clawing their way up before I could stop them.
“Well, I’m already worried, and last time I checked, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
His eyebrow arched, and a smile danced on his lips. He stood, slow and deliberate, closing the space between us until his leg brushed against the bottom of mine. His voice was low, steady, and dangerous. “You think I don’t already own your ass, Savannah?”
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. His stare locked on mine, daring me to look away.
“My ass is my own,” I mumbled as I looked up at him. The light from the room was behind him, making his features hard to see, but I saw the slow, arrogant smirk curl his upper lip.
“Is it?” he asked. Dante leaned down, his palms flat on the blanket on either side of mine. He leaned dangerously close. His lips against mine, not kissing me, justthere. “I say it’smine.” His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged.
He let go and stepped back. “And I don’t need saving,” he ground out, eyes burning into mine. He turned and walked to my bedroom door.
I pushed myself off the bed. “God, you are the mostarrogant, infuriating—”
I didn’t get to finish. Dante closed the distance in one stride, his mouth crashing against mine with a force that stole the rest of the words from my throat. It was hot, demanding, and myfingers were already in his shirt, fisting the fabric, dragging him closer.
“You drive me insane,” I muttered against his mouth, the words muffled as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his hand cupping my jaw, rough thumb skimming fire across my skin.
“Then you know how it feels,” he growled, turning me and pushing me back until my spine hit the wall. His body pressed into mine, hard and unyielding. “Because you make me lose my god damn mind.”
His mouth trailed down my throat, biting once before sucking the sting away, and I gasped, half anger, half desperate need. My nails scraped his shoulders, pulling him closer, as though if he stepped away, I’d break apart completely.
“Dante—” I started, but the sound came out wrecked, nothing like the protest I’d meant.
He smirked against my skin. “Say my name again.”
His smirk made it worse.
I yanked his jacket down his arms, fumbling with the fabric, and he threw it off like it offended him. His shirt went next, and my hands were everywhere — shoulders, chest, the smooth line of muscle that felt too good under my palms.
“You’re impossible,” I gasped, shoving him back a step so I could pull my T-shirt off.
He caught my wrist, spun me, and the world tilted as my thighs hit the edge of the bed. I didn’t get a chance to protest, and Dante was between my thighs before I could breathe again.
“Impossible?” His mouth curved as he kissed me, hot and punishing. His hands slid up my body, over the swell of my breasts, moving around to my back and unclasping the bra effortlessly, dropping it somewhere behind him. “Sweetheart, you’re the one begging me to ruin you.”
