Page 26 of Covert Temptation

Sheshouldn’tbe thinking about what was under that long-sleeve thermal or the way the hard planes of his ass moved when he walked, but here she was, betraying herself one peek at a time.

Chest. Arms. Those solid shoulders. And those lips—Jesus.

“Of course you do,” she murmured.

He didn’t push, didn’t flirt back, which filled her with more annoyance that she was annoyed. Without a response, he disappeared into the hallway with one last look over his shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of the game. You can recap the highlights for me in the morning.”

She watched him vanish, then looked around the lonely living room, her breath exhaling in a slow puff.

The TV blared back to life with the start of the third period.

But she didn’t care.

She didn’t have a phone, which meant she couldn’t scroll social media. No reels, no memes or cat videos. All the little things she used to calm her mind had been stripped away, leaving her in digital silence.

And now Dante was gone too.

But he’d left his bedroom door cracked. Not closed. Not fully open.

A strange in-between.

She hated how alone she still felt, even knowing he was right down the hall.

The shadows in the house danced in the corners of her eyes. She could hear faint sounds—ticks in the walls, a soft thump that was probably pipes but made her heart stutter anyway.

She grabbed the throw blanket from the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders, tucking her legs up beneath her. The hockey game was just noise now. Her ears were tuned to the house. Listening for the unfamiliar.

Tick.

Click.

Creak.

Her body was taut, like a spring ready to snap.

If he were here—just sitting nearby, not even speaking—she wouldn’t feel it so sharply.

She hated that, hated how much she missed the presence of someone she didn’t even trust.

But Dante was steady and confusingly gentle in those moments that she cracked through his armor. Worse…the longer she was around him, the more she noticed things sheshouldn’t.

Like how fast his beard grew, going from a faint shadow to a full sprout in the span of a day.

Or how his voice sometimes dipped low with an edge of gravel, making her chest feel tight.

Or the way he saw too much with those eyes of his, making her feelseeneven when she didn’t want to be.

It was infuriating.

And a little intoxicating.

She hated being afraid of the dark. But more than that, she hated the way her fear felt visible to him.

Still wrapped in the blanket, she leaned her head against the back of the couch and stared toward his open door.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one lying awake. Maybe he was wondering about her too.

Or maybe he was asleep, dreaming of five a.m. wake-ups.

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