Page 163 of Theirs to Ruin

We stared at each other.

Suddenly, the fact he seemed okay made all my anger at him come flooding back. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe there isn’t any good in you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to blow me off the way you have.”

His eyebrows shot up. He leaned against the doorframe, his biceps and the muscles of his abdomen flexing. My eyes involuntarily darted down, then back up, trying to regain focus.

When he remained silent, my anger hit new heights.

"One day, Dante, I'm apparently so fucking important to you that you plant a tracker on me, and the next, it's like I don't exist? And why? Because you’re a fucking coward? Because that’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

He just continued to watch me, his gaze unwavering. There was no smirk, no mocking retort. Just that calm, almost unsettling stare.

“I was such a fool to think you cared about me. God, you must have laughed yourself sick with your biker friends. Was this all a game to you?”

I sucked in a breath, waiting for an answer.

"You done?" he finally asked.

I exhaled sharply. Fuck this. I couldn’t deal with him. "Yes. Because now that I know you're not dying or whatever, I never want to see you again." I turned and headed to the door I’d entered the house through.

His voice stopped me cold. "So, if I was injured, you'd stay?"

I felt that sharp tug in my chest, an involuntary pull towards him. Slowly, I turned around. "Maybe," I admitted. “But you’re not so?—"

Dante tugged his towel. It fell to the ground.

Holy shit.

Ugly bruises and jagged stitches marred his right thigh. And in between his legs…

My mouth went dry. There it was, in all its glory—Dante's cock, standing proud. It was long, thick, and veiny. The tip glistened, and I felt a sudden urge to run my tongue over it.

I tried to pull my gaze away, but my eyes betrayed me and stayed glued to his cock.

Dante laughed, a deep rumble that snapped me out of my trance. He tapped his injured thigh with a smirk. "My injury's here," he pointed out, amusement evident in his voice. "But if you're more interested in something else, I'm game."

My face flamed with embarrassment, but the hunger inside me didn’t diminish. As he bent to retrieve his towel, I had to resist the overwhelming urge to go to him, to explore him with my hands and mouth.

In seconds, he was wrapped up in the towel again, but the image of his body and the effect it had on me lingered. It was insane. Until recently, I was a virgin. Now, here I was, ogling Dante, my body screaming for more.

"What happened?" I managed to ask.

“I got pinned to the guard rail by a fucking semi on a narrow mountain road for a quarter of a mile.”

My stomach turned and I wondered if he was lying to me. Maybe it wasn’t a semi that forced him against the guard rail, making him tightrope his motorcycle to avoid being dragged under or sliced to pieces. Maybe his accident had something to do with the Devil’s Outcasts.

My frustration bubbled over again. "You pulled away because of those two bikers, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Because I’m just like them, Camille. And as much as I don’t want you tainted by their shit, I don’t want you tainted by mine.”

“We all haveshitto deal with Dante. If you think of me as some delicate flower that can’t handle my own shit or anyone else’s, even if I respect them, even if I care about them, then fuck you!” I shouted.

I turned and opened the door only to have him slam it shut, his hands braced over my head, his body pressing close to mine, his breath ragged in my ears. He was so much taller than me thathis body curled over mine, his forehead grinding into the wood door.

I stood frozen, my anger draining out of me. His cock was hard against my ass, but more than that, I felt him trembling. He wanted me, more than I ever thought possible. He just didn’t think he could have me.

I swallowed hard and took a chance, shoving away my hurt pride. "I've missed you, Dante.”

He groaned as if I was torturing him.

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