Page 57

Until flickers of not only the ritual I just watched, but Dante grinding me into the couch at the safe house, cross my mind.

My breath catches in my throat and I close my eyes tightly.

There are so many conflicting feelings swarming my chest and stomach, including the hot rush of blood to my dick.

I feel sick. How can I be turned on after what I just watched?

Dante said he thinks it’s a turn-on, that it gets him riled up. He even offered to help me, but I can’t shake the feeling of guilt about it.

Guilt…and fear.

If I’m in a relationship with Dante, does that really mean I’ll have to do that ritual? The way he’s been talking about it, it doesn’t seem as though it’s a choice. Perhaps it is, but the choice not to means no longer seeing him.

My chest is suddenly tight at the thought.

Just a few days ago I was telling myself I didn’t care about Dante Romano. Now the idea of not getting to know him more, not knowing what our future could be like…it fucking sucks.

Still, the guilt about everything that’s occurred so far is heavy. What will my parents think? What will this mean for my life?

Within this flurry of emotions, arousal is still quite strong, and it only makes me feel worse.

I roll over onto my stomach and press my face into the bed. Dante’s scent only floods my senses with more vigor. I groan intothe pillow and press my hips against the bed more firmly. My cock is squished between the mattress and my body.

“Just go to sleep,” I huff to myself.

I try not to squirm, not to think about any of it anymore, but it’s difficult.

But somehow, perhaps because of how exhausting the last few days have been, combined with how utterly comfortable the bed is, I manage to fall asleep.

The hurricane of my thoughts morphs into my dreams, but I can’t quite make any of them out. Dante’s face, Lena, Nathan, the ritual, my car exploding, they all swirl around me too quickly for me to comprehend before the dream switches to something else.

Nevertheless, my heart is racing, and I gasp myself awake. As I sit up in bed and pull my sticky eyes open, I realize it’s dark all around me, except for a beam of moonlight cast through curtains on my left.

A large, warm hand slides onto my stomach under my sweater and T-shirt. I gasp softly.

“Sorry, baby. You alright?” Dante’s voice, gruff and sleepy, asks in the darkness.

I take a slow breath. “I-I don’t know.”

With a shaky hand, I reach up and brush my fingers through my hair.

“The last few days have been…a lot.”

“I know,” Dante whispers.

I feel his hand slide over my stomach and around to my side, his arm capturing me, he pulls me toward him. I lie down against him, rolling onto my side and searching for him with my face. My nose brushes his bare chest, and heat prickles my skin from my cheeks all the way to my thighs.

“What’s on your mind, puppy?” he asks me.

I slide my hands up to his waist and curl my fingers along the contours of his muscles. It feels so surreal, almost like a dream.

“I feel like this is moving really fast,” I tell him. My voice is just as quiet and tired as his.

“Is that so bad?” he replies, and I feel his mouth slide along my hair.

I shiver. “I’m not sure. It all scares me. How intensely I feel about you already. How intense you and your family are.” As I speak, I rub circles into his skin with my thumb, feeling his body growing warmer under my touch.

Dante’s arms envelop me even more. I feel the rumble of his voice in his chest against my face and neck.