I close my eyes when he slides a finger through my folds, gathering my arousal. They fly open again when tingles tighten my core as he circles my clit with lazy movements. He’s going to make me come right here, right now. Like his touch, I recognize the determined set of his features. My pleasure was always important to him. He’d take care of me, sometimes with his hand and sometimes with his mouth, even before he’d unbuckled his belt. Sometimes with other objects. My cheeks heat at the memory of those improvised toys. But this isn’t then. This is now, and he can no longer demand my pleasure as if it’s his right.
I grip his shoulders. “Dante.”
“I want this. You need it. It’s a win-win.”
No. There’s always been only one winner in this game.
Grabbing his wrist, I stop him. “Is that what this is? A demonstration of how your offer is going to work?”
He leans down and nips my earlobe before pressing wicked words with a kiss on my ear. “This, darling, is just the beginning, so get used to it.” His voice drops. “And it wasn’t an offer.”
Right. Because he’s not giving me a choice.
He taps my clit. “Now, shall we finish this, or have you lost your nerve?”
I pull his hands from my jeans. “I just wanted to see how far you’d push me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Over the edge.” Splaying his fingers over my stomach, he leaves traces of my wetness on my skin. “You’ve always liked it when I pushed your boundaries.”
The declaration sounds sinister, but at least I’ve established one thing. He’s not going to take what I don’t want to give, not when it comes to my body. It’s good to know your opponent and which lines he won’t cross. Knowledge is power in war.
The back door opens. I give a start, but I don’t move. That’s another important point in warfare. Never show weakness.
Dante pulls his hand from under my T-shirt and moves away from me, albeit reluctantly. His fingers linger in my hair before he sets me free.
Noah rushes through the door. When he sees me, he starts bawling.
All that internal boasting about fighting cleverly flies straight out the window. My heart jumps into my throat. I step away from Dante and catch Noah in my arms as he runs into them.
“Hey.” I hug him close, my pulse spiking as he only cries louder. “What’s the matter?”
Jazz comes in after him.
I catch her apologetic gaze. “What happened?”
Noah pulls away and tilts his tearstained face to me. “I fell.” He points at his knee. “Look.”
I crouch down to inspect his leg through the hole where his tracksuit pants have torn. His knee is streaked with mud and bleeding where the skin came off.
Reino and the men from outside file through the door.
Dante hooks his hands under Noah’s armpits and lifts him onto the table, making him sit with his legs dangling over the edge. “Let me see that.”
It takes everything I have to stay put and allow Dante to take care of Noah. The only thing that prevents me from interfering is that Noah’s crying has dwindled to hiccups.
Dante whistles as he gently straightens Noah’s leg. “That’s quite a grass burn, buddy.”
Noah sniffs. “Is it bad?”
Dante wipes a few grass blades from Noah’s sweatpants. “The occasional injury is part of the game.”
Noah leans back on his hands. “Really?”
“Ask Ted.” Dante looks at their goalkeeper. “He played professionally before he came to work for me.”
“Yep.” Ted steps forward, his expression solemn. “Sometimes, you’re going to take a fall. There’s a chance you may break something.” He points at his knee. “Torn these ligaments.” He jabs a thumb on his collarbone. “And broke this bone right here.”
Reino widens his stance. “I broke my leg twice with skiing.” He cocks his head toward the hallway. “Ulysses got a few fractures playing ice hockey.”