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“Maine.”

“Good, see? That wasn't so bad.”

My head moved to say no, my mind already running through all the things I wanted answers to. I stood silent for a long time, trying to sift between the important questions and the ones that I wanted just for me.

How long would I be here?

Why won't you just let me go?

What darkness do you cling to that you won't tell me the things you've done?

Whose dress was that?

Do you feel something when we make love . . . No, not love.

Do you feel something when I give myself to you? That's better.

“Your turn, Ivy.” His fingertips slid softly over my arms, lips placing another gentle kiss on the back of my neck.

Plucking at my lip, I asked, “Is there a girl waiting for you outside this house?”

Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around my waist and tucked his chin into my neck. “No.” Suckling my earlobe, he whispered. “I'll give you a little more on this one, I don't get close to people, I run from them.”

Is that his fear? Getting close?

“Do you need more?”

“Yes.”

“Me too, how long—”

“Uh, uh.” Dabbing my finger in the air, I stopped him from asking the question he had. “It's my turn now, you just asked me a question.”

Smiling into my neck, he laughed. “You're using my rules against me.”

“Rules are rules, my turn. Why do you run?”

“I don't do commitment, there's too much risk in it. Look where you are right now, imagine the pain some poor girl would feel if my enemies tried this. It'd be a whole lot worse than the shoes you're in right now.” His fingers pulled gently at strands of my hair, twirling them tight. “Did you like the life you had before?”

“Yes, very much, and I'd like to live to see it again.” Tilting my head, I let the heat of his body wrap me up like a thick blanket. I couldn't help the way he made me feel. There was comfort in his touch, a raw desire in his lips, and every piece of it was welcomed.

I tried to keep myself distant from the feelings slicing through my body, but I couldn't push them away.

Secretly I wanted him to take me right there. Let the questions turn into kisses, let them turn into his hands caressing my entire body, his tongue tasting every inch.

Dante was more than just the wall of muscle and pain he tried to encase himself with. His eyes were highlighted in curiosity, feelings, and a twinkle of downright dirty.

“Come on, Princess, ask another.”

“Whose dress was that?”

His muscles jerked, lips drifting off my skin and pulling tight. Dante didn't speak, he seemed to climb inside his head and go off to somewhere else. I knew it was risky to ask that again after how he was the first time.

But this was his game, not mine.

Releasing my arms, he walked into the center of the room, keeping his head low.

“Dante?”