Page 53 of Guarded from Sabotage

What if his eyes dim with disappointment when he looks at me instead of heating with desire?

Ugh.

This is ridiculous. If Hanna were here, she’d tell me to go for what I want. She’d give me a pep talk, telling me I’m beautiful and smart and any man would be lucky to have me.

Yes. I lift my chin and look in the mirror once more, forcing myself to squash the niggling insecurities as I do it.

This time, I’m not as hard on myself. My hair is a gleaming bronze, as shiny as I’ve ever seen it. My skin looks sun-kissed and glowing. The green-gold cami drapes nicely across my breasts, showing off a bit of cleavage and the faintest outline of my nipples. And my legs are looking nicely toned, helped along by daily workouts in the B and A gym.

Forget insecure Sarah. There’s no place for her here. It’s time for self-assured Sarah to get what she wants.

With a flick of my hair and set of my shoulders, I leave the bathroom with my head held high. And all the way to the kitchen, I keep telling myself,Dante thinks I’m beautiful. He cares about me. I can feel his arousal each time we kiss. He said I’m the one he’s been waiting for.

I march into the kitchen, a woman on a mission, smiling when I see Dante standing at the counter, whisking eggs in a bowl and humming to himself. My heart squeezes at the sweet incongruity of it—this big, tough guy humming the tune toThe Wind Beneath My Wings—and I almost hate to interrupt him.

But there’s no chance of me silently watching, not with Dante’s crazy-good hearing. Honed after years of having to listen for the tiniest noises, even if I tiptoed in on bare feet, I’m sure he’d notice me.

And I’m right. Dante looks up from the bowl and across the kitchen, his hand stilling mid-whisk as he sees me.

Before he can speak, I say brightly, “Good morning!”

After a few moments of silence, he sets down the whisk and swallows hard. “Sarah.” He clears his throat. “I don’t remember you wearingthatwhen we went to bed.”

“I wasn’t.” Trying to channel my inner seductress—or at least, how I’d imagine one acts—I walk towards him, putting a little sway in my hips. “This is new. Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” He rounds the kitchen island, coming to meet me halfway across the kitchen. Stopping only a few feet away, his gaze moves down my body and back up again. “Where… You…” He’s adorably flustered. “I’ve never seenthisbefore.”

My heart rockets to triple speed, and I can feel the heat in my cheeks rising.Be confident.“I just got it. I thought you might like?—”

“I more thanlikeit.” Dante takes a step closer, his hand coming to rest on my hip. His eyes darken to a deep, inky blue. “You look incredible, Sarah.” After a beat, his cheeks tinge pink and he adds quickly, “Not that you don’t always. But like this…”

Gathering my courage, I ask, “Would you like to take it off me?”

His gaze flares with heat. “Take it off?”

“Yes.” I look at him steadily, trying to ignore the fluttering nerves in my belly. “I know you’ve been trying to be careful with me. But you don’t need to. I’m fine.”

“But the accident. You’re still recovering?—”

“Just some bruises. I wasn’t injured any worse than you. Andyou’vebeen doing your superhero workouts the last two mornings.”

Lips quirking, he asks, “My superhero workouts?”

“Yes.” I prop my hands on my hips. “The ones where you run for approximately a hundred miles and lift weights as heavy as me.”

“I don’t run for a hundred miles.” Dante grins. “And my weights are way heavier than you.”

I’m getting sidetracked.

“Anyway,” I continue, “I just thought…”Could he have changed his mind?“I thought we both wanted this, and?—”

“Sarah.” Dante’s voice goes low and rough. “OfcourseI want this. If you had any idea how many times I’ve thought about making love to you…”

“Me too. So many times.”

His pupils dilate until there’s just a thin ring of blue around the black. The hand that’s on my hip slides around to my back, pulling me flush against him. “Are you sure that you’re feeling okay? The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“I’m more than okay.” Reaching under his shirt, I trail my fingers across the lines of his abs. He sucks in a sharp breath, his stomach jerking under my touch. And I’d have to be blind not to notice the rapidly growing bulge straining at the mesh fabric of his shorts. Dipping in my well of courage, I say, “I want you, Dante. More than anything.”

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