Chapter 17
Theo
I glare at my phone for the zillionth time.
One a.m. stares me in the face while my body stubbornly refuses to consider sleep.
The book I finished lies abandoned on the nightstand, and I’m fighting the urge to crack open another one, knowing full well I’ll get lost in the pages and stay awake even longer.
My mind keeps spinning through the chaos.
The most terrifying part is that Jesse somehow found out where I live.
I never gave him specifics, but I also never felt the need to guard my words around him.
There’s every chance I mentioned my apartment complex in passing, or dropped the name of a nearby landmark that was enough for him to piece it together.
I’ve spent my whole life being too nice, always handing out extra chances like they’re free samples.
My habit of seeing the best in everyone is finally biting me in the ass.
Even when my instincts were whispering that something was wrong with Jesse, I ignored them until I was pinned against a brick wall with his breath hot on my face and his tongue in my mouth, taking what I never offered. If Dante hadn’t shown up when he did…
A shiver races down my limbs, and I try to redirect my thoughts, but they circle right back to the same truth.
Jesse found me at home. He was toying with me, watching me, and I was completely oblivious. What if I hadn’t seen the card tucked in the flowers? What if he’d already been inside my apartment?
Fear coils tight in my chest again, squeezing until breathing is difficult. I throw the covers off and tiptoe into the hallway, stopping outside Dante’s door. He left it cracked open, and I can’t decide if that’s just how he sleeps or if he did it for me.
My fingertips press lightly against the door, easing it open just enough to peek inside.
Moonlight slips through the half-closed blinds in thin silver stripes, painting faint lines across Dante’s back.
His breathing is deep and steady—the kind of rhythm that feels like it could anchor the whole room.
For a long moment I just stand there, watching the gentle rise and fall of his body and letting the sight of him calm the frantic drumbeat in my chest. The fear that had been clawing up my throat loosens its grip, replaced by something warmer, almost painful in its tenderness.
A tentative step carries me inside, and I inch forward until I’m standing beside the bed. “Dante?” His name is barely more than a heavy exhale, but he turns toward me immediately.
“Theo? What’s wrong… are you okay?” Before he can sit up, I drop one knee onto the mattress and rest a hand on his back.
My palm drifts slowly up his spine as my other leg joins the first, and I settle on my knees beside him.
“Everything’s fine, I just…” He twists further, propping himself on his side to watch me with quiet concern.
“I’m sorry,” I say, swallowing against the sandpaper roughness in my throat. “I shouldn’t have woken you.”
“Can’t sleep?” His voice is soft, still thick with drowsiness.
“I can’t… I can’t even close my eyes without seeing him. I don’t want to see him, Dante.” He scoots backward, creating space between us, and my heart sinks as fresh tears sting my eyes. “I’m sorry I bothered you… I’ll let you sleep…”
“Come here,” he murmurs, throwing the covers back.
I draw in a deep breath, determined to lock the absurd, irrational feelings away where they belong.
His warmth envelops me as I slide beneath the sheets and lie on my side, facing him.
A single tear escapes, and even in the dark, he notices.
His thumb sweeps it away before he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the damp trail on my cheek. “Big spoon or little spoon?”
A surprised half-laugh, half-sob slips out of me. “You’d let me be big spoon?” Even knowing his boundaries around certain kinds of touch, he’s willing to let me wrap around him from behind. It stirs something potent inside me, and fresh tears prick at my eyes.
His smile is gentle in the dim light. “It’d be like wearing a backpack, but sure.”
I sniffle. “A regular-sized backpack or one of those weird mini ones from the nineties?”
“Definitely a weird one,” he teases, brushing my hair back from my forehead.
The depth of trust he’s offering clogs my throat, but I keep my voice light. “Turn around, then.”
With a quiet chuckle, he rolls over. I’m careful to keep my hold high on his body as I press my chest to his upper back, leaving plenty of space between our lower halves.
I slide my arm under his and let my hand drape across his front. He tenses when my palm brushes his stomach, instinctively trying to shrink away and hide himself from me.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper. “You are perfect, Dante.”
He stays quiet, but his body gradually relaxes beneath my touch.
Tiny twitches and softening breaths tell me he’s drifting toward sleep again.
I cuddle deeper, inhaling the steady, comforting scent of him as exhaustion finally pulls me under, and for the first time since the night of the party, I feel safe.
My eyes flutter open, waking well-rested in a cocoon of warmth. During the night Dante rolled onto his back, and now I’m sprawled almost completely on top of him. My arm drapes lazily across his waist and my leg hooks over his hips.
He’s still asleep as he grunts softly and shifts, flexing his hips against my thigh. His cock is hard as stone, trapped between my leg and his body, and the firm pressure sends a sharp wave of need crashing through me.
He stirs again with a low, sleep-heavy moan.
I ease my leg just enough to watch his erection lift away from his hips.
Sunlight pours through the windows, casting a shadowed silhouette through the thin fabric of his shorts.
Ever the opportunist, I stare, drinking in the thick outline of his shaft and the pronounced flare of the head.
Instinctively, I rock against him once, my own cock throbbing insistently behind the lightweight boxers I pulled on last night. I normally sleep naked, but climbing into his bed bare hadn’t seemed wise.
Or maybe it would have been wise in an entirely different way.
My palm glides slowly over the his stomach, pausing just above the waistband of his shorts. His hips give a small, unconscious thrust, and then his eyes drift open. The sleepy haze clears as his gaze finds mine, then drops to where my hand rests against his skin.
“Good morning,” I whisper, tracing the pad of my thumb lightly beneath the elastic. His cock flexes hard against the fabric in response, straining toward my touch.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hand trailing down my back to grip my ass.
I rock against him, making sure he feels exactly what he’s doing to me.
Every muscle in my body pulls taut as my cock presses against him, balls tight and throbbing with the delicious friction.
My thumb slips further beneath the waistband of his shorts, tracing the coarse line of his happy trail as I inch lower.
“You make it so difficult to say no to you,” he mumbles, squeezing my ass cheek while his pointer finger slides teasingly closer to my hole.
“So don’t,” I whisper, stretching my leg wider to open myself further.
I grind harder against his thigh to show him just how badly I want this.
My fingers dip deeper into his shorts, ready to wrap around him, but he growls low in his throat and rolls us in one swift motion until I’m pinned beneath him.
“Damn it, Theo,” he mutters, eyes roaming frantically over my face as his cock presses hard into my hip. A tiny shift—just a few inches—would align us perfectly, and I wiggle beneath him, trying to chase that friction.
When he refuses to let me move, I bat my lashes up at him with exaggerated innocence. “Are you just enjoying the view up there?”
His lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile even as he tries to keep his expression stern. “It is an exquisite view. But we’ve discussed this.”
“I’m sorry, but your cock is screaming for attention so loudly I literally can’t hear a word coming out of your mouth.”
He groans and drops his forehead to mine, defeated. “This can’t happen.”
“Feels like it could definitely happen to me,” I sass, still squirming my hips in a determined effort to line my cock up with his. “My part A and your part B equals C. Do you know what the C stands for?”
“I have more questions about the A and B, honestly.”
I scoff impatiently. “Well, the A is ass, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he parrots. “And the B?”
My mouth drops open a sliver as I scramble for an answer on the fly. “Um… beef… stick.”
He hums thoughtfully. “I would’ve sworn it stood for boner.”
“Damn, that makes way more sense. We’re committed, though, so we’re sticking with beef stick.”
“Stubborn,” he mutters, lips twitching as he fights a smile. “And what was C? Copulation?”
“Try again.”
“Coitus?”
“Ew.”
“Consummation?”
“God, it just keeps getting worse!” I shout, attempting to wriggle free. I’ve decided it’s no longer worth the effort and I need to abandon ship, but he holds firm, grip never slackening. “Why do you know so many weird words for sex?”
He laughs easier now, eyes affectionate on mine.
“It was supposed to be come,” I say with an eyeroll. “But you stole my thunder and it isn’t sexy anymore.”
“Was it ever?” he asks, still chuckling.
My bottom lip pushes out in a full pout, and he swipes his thumb gently across it. “It is so very hard to stick to my convictions when I’m with you,” he whispers, a bittersweet smile curving his mouth. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”
I loop my arms around his neck and tug him toward me.
He resists for only a few seconds before his face lowers, close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath.
“We are inevitable… you know that, don’t you?
You feel it?” My voice stays soft. “This is a battle that doesn’t want to be fought, Dante.
There are no winners here, no survivors, no grand victory.
At the end of it all, it’s just you and me. It’s always going to be you and me.”
“We can’t,” he stresses, the words cracking on the edges.
“Says who?”
A faint, pitiful whimper escapes him, and it tells me he’s teetering right on the brink. I want to see it—the exact second he finally lets go. “We just can’t,” he manages, barely more than a breath.
“I’m trying so hard to be patient… really, I am, but I lose my fucking mind around you.” Before I can second-guess myself, I grip his chin with steady fingers. “Kiss me,” I say, quiet but firm.
A faint shudder rolls through his body. His eyes lock on mine, something unreadable flickering in them, and then he crashes his lips to mine.
My surprised gasp melts against his mouth.
My other palm cups his cheek as the rest of the world simply vanishes.
Nothing else exists—just the slow, hungry press of his lips, and the way mine part for him without hesitation.
Every soft brush sends sparks racing under my skin, hotter and sharper, until I tilt his face and trace the seam of his lips with my tongue.
He opens for me instantly.
A quiet groan slips between us as his tongue slides against mine—soft and sweet, then suddenly demanding and needy…
so fucking needy. The kiss is drenched in years of restraint finally giving way, and passion so unwavering it steals the air from my lungs.
In that single, endless moment, I understand with perfect clarity that kissing Dante eclipses every sexual experience I’ve ever had.
Nothing compares.
Nothing will ever compare.
He kisses every inch of my mouth, tender in a way that splinters my heart into a thousand tiny, aching pieces—all of them hopelessly, endlessly in love with him.
My hands glide over the broad expanse of his back as his tongue moves with mine, and my fingers dig in, anchoring me as my hips roll against him in slow, instinctive need.
I’m ready to give him everything, to leap in feet first, when he eases us back.
One last thorough kiss, then he withdraws, brushing soft pecks across my lips until he draws a deep, steadying breath and rests our foreheads together.
When we finally part, we cling to each other as though letting go might unravel us both.
“I really needed that,” I whisper.
He offers a small, soft smile and slides to lie beside me on the bed. “What am I going to do with you?”
The words sound like they’re directed more at himself than me, but I answer anyway. “We’ve been through this before… and the answer hasn’t changed.”
“And what was the answer, again?”
“Whatever you want,” I whisper, smiling. “You can do whatever you want with me.”
His fingertip traces the curve of my lower lip like he wants to kiss me again as much as I want him to. I curl into his side before I give in, and enjoy the peaceful warmth of being wrapped in his bed together. “What do you call a vampire in love?” I whisper after a few minutes.
His chest bounces in a silent laugh. “What?”
“A neck romancer,” I answer, leaning in to kiss his throat and letting my teeth graze his skin just enough to make him shiver.
Dante’s hand finds the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair as he tilts his chin, giving me more room. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, voice amused.
I press one more soft kiss below his jaw, then pull back with a grin. “You love it.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Starting to think you’re part gremlin.”
“Only on weekends,” I say, curling tighter into his side. “And Tuesdays. And whenever you’re shirtless.”
He snorts, arm tightening around me. “So basically always.”
“Pretty much.” My stomach growls then, proving his point.
He laughs and pulls me closer. “Five more minutes. Then I’ll feed the gremlin.”
“Ten,” I counter, snuggling deeper. “And you carry me to the kitchen.”
His thumb strokes slow circles on my back. “Deal. But only because I’m scared of what happens if you don’t get fed.”
I smile, eyes drifting closed. “Smart man.”