Page 137 of Dante

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Heavy. Solid. Pressing me into the cushions.

Then the shouting starts.

Outside.

Through the window.

My blood turns to ice.

No.

No, no, no?—

I try to move.

Dante's hand clamps over my mouth.

"Don't." His lips brush my ear. "Don't make a sound."

I can't breathe.

The shouting gets louder.

Glass shatters somewhere.

Not my window. Somewhere else in the building.

But close.

Too close.

My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. In my temples. In my fingertips.

Dante's weight presses me deeper into the cushions.

He's still naked.

I'm still naked.

We were just?—

And now?—

The shouting stops.

Silence.

Worse than the noise.

I strain to hear anything. Footsteps. Voices. Breathing.

Nothing.

Dante doesn't move.

His body is coiled tight. Every muscle tensed. Ready.

For what?

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