16

I glare at my phone for the zillionth time, one a.m. staring me in the face as my body refuses to entertain the possibility of sleep. The book I finished is lying on the nightstand, and I'm resisting the urge to start a new one in fear of getting engrossed in the story and staying up even longer.

My mind spins from the craziness of the day. The scariest part is that Jesse somehow discovered where I live, and it's unnerving that I don't know how. Although I didn't tell him specifics, I never felt the need to be cautious with my words whenever we were together. There's a chance I brought up my apartment complex in passing, or landmarks nearby that let him figure it out.

I've spent my whole life being too nice, always giving people too many chances. My knack for seeing the best in everyone is coming to bite me in the ass. Even when my spidey-senses were tingling, telling me something was off with Jesse, I ignored it.

Ignored it until I was backed against a brick wall with his breath on my face and his tongue on my mouth, trying to take what wasn't given. If Dante hadn't found me when he did…

The shiver that rushes down my limbs is uneasy, and I try to redirect my thoughts, but they only lead me back to the fact that Jesse located me at home. He was toying with me, watching me, and I was oblivious.

What if I never saw the card in the flowers?

What if he'd been inside my apartment?

Fear creeps up into my chest again, making it hard to breathe. I throw the covers off and tiptoe into the hall, stopping in front of Dante's bedroom. He left his door cracked open, and I'm unsure if that's how he normally sleeps or if it's for my sake.

My fingertips push on the door, opening it just enough to peek in.

He's sound asleep, lying on his stomach with his head turned away from me. I stand frozen for a minute, watching the steady rise and fall of his back. Indecision grips me, not wanting to disturb him, but craving the comfort of his presence. Without it, I won't do anything but stare at the wall tonight.

A tentative step takes me inside, and I inch my way forward until I'm standing beside the bed. "Dante?" His name is barely more than a heavy exhale, but he immediately turns to face me.

"Theo? What's wrong… are you okay?" Before he can climb out of bed, I drop my knee onto the mattress and place a hand on his back.

My palm drifts up his spine as my other leg climbs on, sitting on my knees beside him. "Everything's fine, I just…" He twists further, pushing himself onto his side and watching me with concern. "I'm sorry," I say with a swallow that feels like my throat is lined with sandpaper. "I shouldn't have woken you up."

"Can't sleep?" he asks, voice soft.

My head gives a gentle shake. "I can't… I can't even close my eyes without seeing him. I don't want to see him, Dante." He scoots backwards, away from me, and my heart sinks as more stupid tears well in my eyes. "I'm sorry I bothered you… I'll let you sleep…"

"Come here," he murmurs, throwing the covers back.

I force myself to take a deep breath, determined to keep these absurd, irrational feelings locked inside where they belong. His warmth envelopes me as I climb under the sheets, lying on my side and facing him. A single tear slides out of my eye, and even in the dark, he notices it. His thumb swipes it away before he leans forward and kisses the wet streak on my cheek. "Big spoon or little spoon?"

A surprised half laugh, half sob escapes me. "You'd let me be big spoon?" Even with his aversion to touch in certain places, he's comfortable with me sleeping behind him. I can't explain the intense emotion it stirs inside me as fresh tears sting my eyes.

His smile is sweet in the darkness. "It'd be like wearing a backpack, but sure."

I sniffle. "A regular sized backpack or one of those weird mini-backpacks they used in the nineties?"

"Definitely a weird one," he teases, brushing my hair back.

The amount of trust he's putting in me clogs my throat, even as I keep my voice light. "Turn around, then, and let me channel my inner JanSport." With a quiet chuckle, he rolls over and I nestle closer into the warmth of his broad back.

Mindful to keep my position high on his body, I snuggle my chest against his upper back, but make sure I leave plenty of distance between the lower half of our bodies.

"Gimmee," I whisper as I slide my arm under his and let my hand drape over his front. My palm brushes over his belly, and he tenses, trying to shrink away and hide himself from me. "Don't do that." He freezes as I glide my fingertips over his stomach. "You are nothing short of perfection, Dante."

Although he remains quiet, his body gradually relaxes, and his tiny twitches let me know that he's drifting to sleep. I nestle in deeper, inhaling his comforting scent as I surrender to the exhaustion, feeling safe for the first time since the night of the party.

My eyes flutter open, waking up well-rested in a cocoon of warmth. During the night, Dante rolled onto his back, and I'm sprawled almost completely on top of him. My arm lazily rests on his waist, and my leg drapes over his hips.

In his sleep, he grunts and adjusts his position, flexing against my thigh. His cock is hard as a rock, trapped between my leg and his body, and the pressure sends a wave of intense need crashing through me.

He stirs with another sleep-riddled moan, and I adjust my leg, watching his cock rise off his hips. The sunlight streaming through the windows casts a shadowed silhouette of his erection through his thin shorts. Ever the opportunist, I stare, taking in the thickness of his shaft and the flared ridge of his head.

Subconsciously, I rock my hips against him, my cock throbbing behind the lightweight boxers I pulled on last night. Normally I sleep naked, but I didn't think he'd appreciate me climbing into his bed in the nude.

Or maybe he'd appreciate it too much.

My palm glides over his stomach, stopping just above the waistband of his shorts, and his hips push in a small thrust as his eyes slowly open. As the haze clears from his mind, his gaze lingers on mine before flickering to where my hand rests on his body.

"Good morning," I whisper, tracing my thumb under the elastic band and watching as I'm rewarded with a flex against the fabric of his shorts.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice husky with sleep as his hand trails down my back and grips my ass. I rock against him, leaving no doubts about the effect he's having on me. Every muscle in my body is on high alert as I press my needy cock against him, my balls tight and positively throbbing with the friction.

My thumb swipes further into his shorts, tracing over the coarse hair of his happy trail as I inch lower. "You make it so difficult to say no to you," he mumbles, squeezing my ass cheek as his pointer finger slides closer to my hole.

"So don't," I whisper as I stretch my leg, opening myself further and showing him how hard I am by pushing against his thigh. I dip my fingers into his shorts, ready to wrap my hand around him, but he growls and rolls us until he has me pinned underneath him.

"Damn it, Theo," he mutters, eyes darting all over my face as his thick cock pushes into my hip. A mere shift of a few inches would make this position much more interesting, and I wiggle, trying to line us up.

When he doesn't let me move, I bat my lashes at him. "Are you just enjoying the view up there?"

His lips tug back in a small smile even as he tries to look stern. "It is an exquisite view. But we've discussed this."

"I'm sorry, but your cock is screaming for attention so loudly that I can't hear a word coming out of your mouth."

He groans and lets his head sag. "This can't happen."

"Feels like it could definitely happen to me," I sass, still trying to shift my hips so that my cock lines 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."

An impatient scoff leaves me while he stares with humored curiosity. "Well, the A is ass, obviously."

"And the B?"

My mouth drops open by a sliver as I think on my feet. "Um… beef… stick. Your beef stick in my ass equals C."

"Huh," he says, thoughtful. "I would've sworn it stood for boner."

"Damn, that makes way more sense. But no, we're sticking with beef stick."

"Stubborn," he mutters, his lips twitching as he fights his smile. "And what was C? Celebration?"

"Try again."

"Copulation?"

"Ew."

"Coitus?"

"It just keeps getting worse!" I shout, attempting to wiggle loose. I've decided it's no longer worth it and I need to abandon ship, but he holds on, never slackening his grip on me.

"Oh, I've figured it out! Consummation!"

Horror lines my face as I stare at him. "Why do you know so many weird C words for sex?" He laughs as I roll my eyes, trying not to look too pleased with myself. "It was supposed to be ‘come', you ding-dong. Your… beef stick and my ass equals come. But it's not sexy anymore!"

"I'm not convinced it ever was."

"That is up for debate," I say as he chuckles some more. My bottom lip pokes out, and he swipes his thumb across as I continue to pout.

"It is so very hard to stick to my convictions when I'm with you," he whispers with a bittersweet smile.

"Oh, trust me, I'm aware of just how hard it is," I tease, my voice breathy and needy. "So terribly hard . The absolute hardest."

He smirks. "Say hard one more time."

I lean up and put my lips against the shell of his ear. " Haaaaaaaard."

He chuckles before turning serious again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it get that far."

"Or, here's an idea… you could, I dunno, stop fighting this." I reach my arms up around his neck and tug him towards me. He resists for a few seconds before lowering his face closer to mine. "We are inevitable… you know that, don't you? You feel it? This is a battle that doesn't want to be fought, Dante—one that doesn't have any winners. There are no survivors, no grand victory. At the end of this, it's just you and me. It's always going to be you and me."

"We can't."

"Says who?" The sound that slips out of him is a faint whimper, a pitiful, unwanted thing that tells me he's close to breaking. And I want to see it—the moment he snaps.

The moment it all comes crashing down around him.

"We just can't," he finally manages, forming the words but barely giving them a voice.

"I'm trying so hard to be patient… really, I am. But I lose my fucking mind around you," I mutter. Before I can consider what I'm doing, I grip his chin with a steady hand. "Kiss me," I demand, and a faint shudder works through his body as he locks his eyes on me. Something shifts in his expression, an emotion I can't decipher, and he crashes his lips to mine.

My surprised gasp escapes against his mouth before my other palm lands on his cheek. The rest of the world disappears and nothing else matters as our mouths move together, my hands guiding him where I want him. Every soft brush of our lips has me spinning higher and higher, and when I tilt his face and slide my tongue along the seam of his lips, he opens and lets me in.

Quiet groans pass between us as his tongue slides into my mouth and moves against mine. It's soft and sweet, demanding and needy. So fucking needy. His kisses are filled with such unwavering passion that in that moment, I realize that kissing Dante surpasses any sexual experience I've ever had.

Nothing compares.

Nothing will ever compare.

He kisses every inch of my mouth, his touch gentle. Tender in a way that splinters my heart into a thousand tiny pieces, every single one of them pathetically, endlessly in love with him. My hands glide over his broad back as his tongue tangles with mine, and my fingers dig into his body as my hips roll against him.

I'm ready to give him everything, to jump in feet first, when he slows things down between us. With one last thorough kiss, he withdraws, peppering my lips with soft pecks until he takes a deep breath and pushes our foreheads together. When we finally separate, we cling to each other as if our lives depend on it, and his heavy, hooded eyes have infinite emotion behind them.

"I really needed that," I whisper, and he gives me a small smile as he slides to lie beside me on the bed.

"What am I going to do with you?" Though it sounds like he's questioning himself, I share my thoughts.

"We've been through this before… and the answer hasn't changed."

"And what was the answer, again?"

"Whatever you want, baby," I whisper with a smile. "You can do whatever you want with me." He glides his fingertip across my lips, and I decide to break the seriousness of the moment before it becomes too much for him. My teeth sink into his finger in a soft bite, and he gasps, yanking his hand away.

I go after him, snapping my teeth as he shoves me with a yelp. "Little piranha!" he whisper-shouts, and I cackle and chase his hand.

"You don't want my love bites?" I ask, wide eyed. He doesn't expect it as I roll him onto his back, dropping my mouth down to his neck and biting. The sound that leaves him is a mix between a shout and a laugh, and I giggle as I chomp loudly next to his ear. "What do you call a vampire in love?"

Wary eyes follow me as I sit up with a broad grin. "What?"

"A neck romancer!" I cry, baring my teeth and going after his neck again, but he stops me, holding me a few inches away as I snap my teeth. Dante is laughing so hard his eyes are watering, and I'm pretty sure that's drool on his neck from my bite attempts. I finally give up and collapse beside him, feeding off his happiness and lighter than I have been in days.