Chapter 20

• Clara didn’t sleep a wink. She lay there under the silky sheets, her whole body stiff and buzzing, like every nerve was lit up and waiting. Dante had barely touched her—just a quick brush of his fingers down her arm, so light it was almost nothing. But it had flipped a switch inside her, unraveling everything she’d been holding together. Her heart wouldn’t slow down, her skin wouldn’t stop tingling, and she hated him for it—hated how he could mess her up with something so small.
• He was still there beside her in the big bed, not touching her now, just lying there. She could hear his breathing, slow and steady, like he didn’t have a care in the world. The heat coming off him was unbearable, creeping across the space between them, warming her even though she didn’t want it to. He’d rolled over after their little showdown—given her some room—but it didn’t help. It wasn’t enough to shake him off.
• She hated how much she noticed him—the way the mattress dipped under his weight, the faint spicy smell of his cologne hanging in the air, mixing with the warmth of the fire that had died down to embers. Her fists clenched tight under the blanket, her nails digging into her palms, leaving little half-moon marks. This was what he wanted—he wasn’t just trying to boss her around or pin her down with his hands. He was sneaking into her head, digging in deep, and the worst part? It was working. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop feeling him there, and it made her want to scream.