Page 36 of Second Chance Daddy

He levels me with that storm-blue stare. “Is that what you call surviving? You look exhausted, Cassie. You’re shaking. You got a goddamn threatening note.”

“It’s my life,” I snap. “I’m the one raising her. I’m the one holding it all together.”

“You shouldn’t have to do it alone.” His jaw ticks again.

“I’m not your problem. I’ve handled this for three years?—”

His eyes darken, voice dropping like a warning shot. “Cassie.”

“No,” I repeat, chest tight, heart thundering like it’s trying to punch out of my ribcage. “I don’t need saving.”

The space between us sizzles, my body traitorously lighting up under his stare. His fists unclench, but he doesn’t move. His restraint? Barely hanging on by a thread.

And God help me… a small, stupid part of me wants to let him save me.

But I can’t.

Because the second he steps in? The truth comes crashing down.

And I’m not ready to lose everything.

Not yet.

“You tell me what he’s done, then we’ll see,” he demands.

“It’s mostly threats,” I say, just to get him to stop talking about saving me. “Phone calls. Notes. People watching the house. The car yesterday…” I clench my hands. “But he hasn’t… he hasn’t touched us. Not in a long time.”

“You really believe that’s where it ends?” His jaw flexes as if he’s grinding his molars to dust. “You think he’ll just leave you alone now?”

My throat burns. I shake my head because I don’t believe that either. I never have.

“Let me help,” he says, his voice softer now. Careful. Like I might break if he says it too loud. “I can make this go away, Cassie.”

“I don’t need saving, Dante.” I sound sharp, tired of repeating myself.

His look is dangerous now. “You’re right. You don’t need saving. You need someone who’ll burn the whole fucking world down for you.”

That silences me. His words crawl under my skin, coil around my ribs, squeeze my lungs until breathing feels optional.

You need someone who’ll burn the whole fucking world down for you.

No one has said I deserve that before. My brain’s running circuits that it didn’t know it had. My body? It’s got its own goddamn agenda now. My thighs clench, my nipples perk up like they’ve RSVP’d to this shitshow.

I should shut this down.

I should stand up, back away, build the walls higher, lock him out?—

But his eyes lock with mine and make me forget the world outside. When he leans in over the table, I meet him halfway, like this is some kind of peace negotiation that’d do me good.

His hand moves lightning-fast, curling around the back of my neck—warm, rough, grounding—and then his mouth crashes onto mine.

Holy shit.

It’s hunger. It’s three years of bite-your-tongue longing, three years of every filthy, forbidden thought detonating like fireworks behind my eyes.

His lips devour me. His tongue sweeps into my mouth like he’s claiming territory that was always his. My insides? Molten. My brain? Static. My panties? Flooded.

I moan—God help me—and that stupid, traitorous noise earns me a low growl from his chest. His fingers tighten in my hair, tipping my head back so he can kiss me deeper, rougher, like I’m oxygen and he’s been drowning since the day I left.