“Um... okay?” I looked around. “Isn’t yours the same?” Was it? I’d never noticed, too busy looking at her.
Savannah gave me a look of such exasperation that I quickly hid my smile. “No. My God, you could fit my dorm in here twice.” She rolled her eyes as she took her jacket off. “Seriously, men and their complete misconception of size.”
I barked out a laugh, soaking in the sight of her in simple jeans and a T-shirt. “That’s a bit below the belt, no?” I walked forward and caught her, pulling her into my body. “Or was that your intention?”
She smiled up at me, and we stood there in the moment, just smiling at each other.
“Sav.” My voice was low, rough. Warning, plea, all tangled up.
Her answer wasn’t words. It was the way her chin lifted, daring me. The way she didn’t step back when I leaned down.
The kiss was supposed to be quick. Just a taste, something to shut myself up with. Instead, the second my mouth touched hers, it was wildfire — hungry, reckless, inevitable.
Her hands ran up my chest and hooked behind my neck. She clutched at me like she’d been waiting as long as I had, fingers fisting in the hood of my sweater. I walked us slowly to my room, opening the door, never breaking the kiss, and kicking the door shut without looking, my lips still on hers, her breath hot against my skin.
“Dante,” she whispered, half a protest, half a prayer.
“I’ll stop.” My forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged. “Say it, and I will.” It would fucking kill me, but I would.
She pulled my head back down, her lips on mine, and the kiss was harder, more desperate. My hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against me. She gasped again, and I fought the groan. My body pressed her back until she hit the edge of the bed, and then she broke away, staring at me with that wide-eyed panic like she couldn’t believe what we’d just started.
And God help me, I couldn’t either.
Her calves hit the mattress, and she toppled backward with a soft cry, bracing herself on her elbows. My chest heaved, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides like I was fighting myself harder than I’d ever fought anyone on the field.
“Sav...” My voice cracked. The sight of her like that — her ponytail over her shoulder, lips swollen from my kiss, her chest rising and falling too fast — was gasoline on the fire already burning through me.
I crawled over her slowly, bracing my weight on my hands so I didn’t crush her. Our eyes locked, her pupils blown wide. I was close enough to feel the heat of her breath, close enough to lose myself completely.
One brush of my mouth against hers, then another, slower this time, coaxing instead of demanding. Her hands slid up myarms, clutching my shoulders like she was holding me there, like she didn’t want me to stop.
The taste of her, the feel of her beneath me, had my control down to its last inch. I kissed her harder, hungrily, groaning when her body arched into mine. My hand found her hip, thumb grazing the curve of it, anchoring me when I felt like I was about to come undone.
“Dante,” she whispered, and the sound of her need rushed through me.
“Yeah.” My lips ghosted down her jaw, dragging heat across her skin. “Tell me now, Sav...”
But her answer was a shiver, a desperate sound in the back of her throat that didn’t sound like no.
I lowered myself until I was flush against her, the line between us gone, the kiss turning wild, consuming. My hand slid up from her hip, under her shirt, fingers curling into the band of her bra like I could pull her closer still.
In that moment, with the feel of her under me and her mouth moving against mine like she’d wanted this just as much, I knew — I was already too deep to pretend this was about just finding out what she knew.
Chapter 22
Dante
Her fingers slid under my clothes, nails skimming over the ridges of my stomach, and I almost forgot what I was doing.
I yanked the sweater off, tore my T-shirt off over my head, tossing them both to the floor, my mouth desperate to be back on hers.
She tasted like sin and surrender, and when her hands fumbled at the hem of her top, I helped, dragging the soft fabric up and over her head in one desperate pull. She gasped when the cool air hit her skin, but I was already covering her again, my hands greedy over the lacy bra, my mouth on the line of her throat.
“Dante.” Her gasping my name was the only thing I ever wanted to hear.
“You taste so good.” My words were a growl against her skin. “So fucking soft...”
Her answer was to arch into me, her fingers sliding into my hair and pulling me back down. Her kiss was eager, frantic, undoing me piece by piece.
