"Hormones?" Dante asked, his tone deceptively calm, but the way he looked at her made Dora's breath hitch.
"You don't have to if you don't want to!" she said, pushing herself up from the table. Her fingers fumbled with the napkin as she wiped her mouth, trembling slightly. Every glance at him made her pulse jump, every step she took toward the exit faltering.
Dante was already on his feet, closing the distance between them. He didn't speak, didn't need to. His hand brushed hers on the chair as he moved past, a deliberate, grounding pressure. She swallowed hard, her stomach tightening with need.
"I don't have other plans tonight," he said simply, almost detached, yet there was a weight behind it, a certainty. "So we don't need to waste time."
Her pulse spiked. She didn't need words. Only him.
"My room or yours?" he asked, steady and even.
"Your room," she answered immediately, her voice betraying nothing of the heat surging through her body.
