Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Dante pressed kisses along her shoulder.
Shannon’s breath caught the moment he rolled her beneath him.
There was no sound in the room but the soft shuffle of their sheets and his long, slow exhale as he looked down at her, his body half-shadowed by the moonlight curling through the blinds.
Her legs fell open for him without a word.
He braced himself on one forearm, the other hand slipping along the side of her neck, down the curve of her shoulder. He watched her face closely, as if waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t. Her eyes locked on his, wide and lucid, and that was enough.
When he kissed her this time, it was nothing like before. His fingers skimmed down over her ribs, her waist, her hips. Every inch of contact dragged fire through his skin.
Shannon ran her hands along the sharp lines of his back. When her thighs curled around his hips, his breath shifted. He pressed his forehead to hers and held there a moment, unmoving.
Without a word, he moved inside her again. The sound that left her was raw, cracked open. Dante stayed still for a heartbeat before rocking into her with a deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving hers. This wasn’t the same as before. It was heavier now, emotion filling every move.
Shannon’s nails dug into his skin. His jaw clenched, but his movements stayed measured like he was controlling something wild just beneath the surface. The muscles in his back flexed as he moved. Every stroke was full, deep, slow, and impossible to separate from the heat building between them.
Her fingers found the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss her again. He made a low guttural sound in his throat as he pressed into her, kissing her harder now, messier, deeper. Between them, the room dissolved. No clock, no night, no outside world. Just skin, shadows, and breath.
Dante’s hand slid between them, fingers slowly circling her clit as he moved faster now, still silent, still watching her. Shannon’s legs tightened around him. A long, thin line of moonlight sliced across his shoulder.
When her eyes fluttered shut, he said, “Look at me.”
Her eyes opened and didn’t leave his. Not until she broke apart underneath him with a sharp gasp, and he dropped his head against her neck with a shudder that racked his entire body.
For a long time after, neither moved. Not a word passed between them, just breath. Just skin cooling in the night, his weight still half on her, half beside her. One hand holding hers. Their legs tangled. Chests rising unevenly.
Shannon’s voice was scratchy, half lost. “Okay. That one was dangerous.”
Dante didn’t laugh, but his mouth twitched with the barest smile before he kissed her shoulder. He didn’t move away. Didn’t get up. Just stayed exactly where he was.
His arm lay heavy over her ribs, warm skin cooling against her shoulder. Their bodies were still pressed close, the quiet between them no longer the soft lull of desire but something denser. There was a truth waiting to be spoken.
The bed creaked when Shannon shifted to reach her phone on the nightstand. The screen lit the room in a cold blue glow. 3:04 a.m.
1 missed call: Dad.
Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing at first. She hadn’t called home. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t bothered to say she wasn’t coming back after lunch.
Dante’s voice came low behind her, sleep-rough, “Dad?”
“Yeah.” She kept her voice steady. “At 12:09.”
He shifted but didn’t lift his arm from around her waist. “He probably thinks I dragged you off somewhere.”
“You did.”
“You walked,” he said flatly.
Her lips twitched, not quite a smile. She let the phone fall back to the mattress. “I was supposed to go home.”
“I know.”
“I’m due at Fort Novosel Monday morning.”
“I know.”
The silence landed harder now, heavier than bodies, heavier than heat. It settled between them like something that had been building for weeks.
“I don’t know what I’m going to tell him,” she admitted.
Dante pushed himself onto one elbow, the sheet sliding off his back. The look he gave her was steady and unapologetic.
“Tell him the truth,” he said. “You don’t owe him details. You’re not seventeen. You’re a commissioned officer who’s about to start one of the hardest training pipelines in the country.”
She turned to face him fully. “And you’re the guy he trusted to keep an eye on me. Congratulations.”
A wry smirk touched his mouth. “He assigned me to watch you. Not report on you.”
“You don’t think this crosses a line?”
“No,” he said immediately. “Do you?”
Shannon hesitated, not with fear but thought. “I don’t know what I think yet.”
He leaned in just slightly, voice dropping. “Then I’ll go first. I don’t think I did anything wrong.”
Her eyes searched his. “Even if it costs you your job?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug, unbothered. “I did my job. You’re safe. You’re ready to deploy. You’re not compromised.”
She exhaled slowly. “But I am.”
“No,” he said, gentler but firm. “You’re someone who made an adult decision. You don’t feel compromised to me. You feel… deliberate.”
The word hit her harder than she expected. “What are we doing, Dante?”
“I’m taking you home in a few hours,” he said. “And then we’ll face whatever comes.”
His expression didn’t waver. “I’m not afraid of this.”
She swallowed. “You should be.”
“I’m not ashamed,” he said simply.
Shannon looked away, jaw working. “You will be. When it all blows back on you.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I’ve had worse fallout for lesser things.”
She let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t carry so much truth. “This wasn’t lesser?”
“No.” Dante brushed a strand of hair behind her ear with a kind of quiet tenderness that made her chest ache. “Not even close.”
He held her gaze then for the first time without any heat behind it, just honesty. “Shannon, I’m thirty-six. I’m past playing games. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
Her breath caught, not because she was startled, but because she knew he meant it.
The hotel room was still. Shannon sat at the edge of the bed, hair pulled into a loose knot, T-shirt creased from sleep. She didn’t speak for a long time.
Dante moved slowly, pulling his shirt on, folding the corners into place. Controlled. Respectful. Careful not to break whatever hung in the air between them.
Then finally, her voice cut through, low and even, but not casual. “Why are you in a hotel?”
He blinked once. “That a real question?”
“You work for Chase Security,” she said. “You’ve been in DC. But you never mentioned an apartment.”
He exhaled through his nose and sat down across from her. “I’m assigned out of San Diego. I rotated in because DC’s short-staffed. This is temp support.”
Shannon stilled. Her gaze didn’t flinch, but something in her posture shifted, pulling inward. “This is temporary.”
He knew that tone. The one she used when she was trying not to sound disappointed. When she was already bracing for the loss before it hit.
He met her eyes. “The hotel is temporary. I took a temporary assignment. But I would be here no matter where I was assigned. This was me. I wanted to see you.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You knew you were leaving. And you still…”
“I didn’t plan this,” he said gently. “But I’m not walking away from you either.”
She didn’t answer, just looked down at the floor, jaw tight, breath slow.
He watched her for a beat. “This isn’t about me leaving DC. You’re already doing the math, aren’t you? Wondering how you’re supposed to get through Fort Novosel without me parked five feet off your shoulder.”
She didn’t deny it.
“Four years at the Academy,” he said. “You got used to me being there. Silent. Reliable. Watching.”
Shannon’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Dante leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “I know how that sounds. I know what it feels like to lose that constant. You think maybe you won’t stay sharp enough on your own.”
Her voice came, brittle, “I don’t want it to be like that. I don’t want to need anyone that badly. But I’m—"
“You don’t need me,” he said simply. “That’s the thing. You never did. You made it through hell before I ever got close.”
She looked away.
“But wanting me,” he continued, “is different. Wanting this? That’s a choice. That’s real. And it’s allowed.”
The quiet settled again. He reached out then, touching her wrist, skin to skin. “I’m not asking you to change your plans. And I’m not dropping everything to camp out outside your next rotation. But I’m not disappearing, Shannon. This doesn’t stop just because I’m in another state.”
Her eyes searched his face slowly, like she was waiting to spot the weakness in his promise. But there wasn’t one. “You meant what you said last night?”
He nodded. “I’m thirty-six. I don’t say things I don’t mean. And I don’t start something I don’t plan to finish.”