The Bad Boy I Couldn't Escape

Chapter 9

Selene's P.O.V.

I couldn’t believe I’d let him do those things to me—to my body.

I buried my face into the pillow, mortified as the memories came rushing back. The way I had moaned his name. Loudly. Shamelessly. And the way he responded each time—with a deep grunt or a sharp intake of breath that made my entire body tremble.

I could still feel him inside me, the ache between my thighs a reminder of how completely I had surrendered. I had let him touch me in ways I’d only ever read about in books, and now I didn’t even know how to face myself… or anyone else.

What was I supposed to do now? Get up and go clean myself off like nothing happened? I winced just thinking of walking past the others in the house. I was certain they’d heard every moan, every cry, every broken whisper of his name.

I was so lost in thought that I jumped when I felt his hand graze my skin.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered quickly, scared he’d misunderstand my reaction.

His voice came low against my neck, his breath warm and slow. “What’s on your mind?”

I closed my eyes. How could I tell him I was too embarrassed to leave this room? That I could still feel the ghost of his lips all over my body? That I wasn’t sure how to face the world now that he had touched parts of me no one ever had?

So instead, I said, “Nothing.”

But his hand slipped lower, and I gasped as he pressed gently against the ache between my thighs. My reflexes kicked in—I grabbed his wrist to stop him. But he didn’t move. He just stayed there, claiming that last piece of me with a stillness that said he wasn’t letting go.

And neither did I.

We laid there like that. His hand on me. My heart thundering in my chest. Silence blanketed the room, except for the soft hum of our breathing. I couldn’t help but let my eyes flutter shut, the quiet overwhelming me in the most intimate way. This moment, so raw and vulnerable, felt like something deeper than just a physical connection. Something heavier. I felt a tenderness I wasn’t prepared for, and it made me want to pull away, even as I clung to him.

“Dante,” I whispered, barely above a breath. His name escaped my lips so easily now, but in a way, it terrified me. My heart and body had already been so completely taken by him. It was only a matter of time before I gave in completely. And that thought terrified me more than the ache he left on me.

“What is it?” His voice rumbled against my skin as he lifted his head, his breath brushing the sensitive area of my neck.

“I don’t…” I trailed off, not knowing what I was even trying to say. How could I explain the conflict twisting inside me? I wanted him. God, how I wanted him. But I didn’t know how to balance this burning desire with the fear of losing myself in him.

He pulled away just enough to meet my eyes, and for a moment, I was lost in the depth of his gaze. His eyes, always intense, were darkened with something unspoken—something raw and dangerous, like a storm raging just beneath the surface. He wasn’t playing. He was serious, and that terrified me.

“I don’t want you to leave, Selene,” he said softly, but with a certainty that broke through every wall I’d built. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

I swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t asking. He was telling me, and there was no escape from that reality. I had no control over what was happening between us anymore. All I could do was hold onto this moment, afraid that if I let go, it would be gone forever.

When I turned to face him again, I was startled to see his blue eyes watching me—quiet, intense, and filled with something that made me feel stripped bare all over again. It was possessiveness, I realized. It was a feeling I had tried to run from for so long. But now, seeing it in him—seeing it in his eyes—made my pulse quicken. He wasn’t just claiming me physically. He was claiming my heart, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I looked away, shy and overwhelmed. My cheeks burned. I didn’t need a mirror to know I was blushing furiously.

He smiled, slow and amused, then stood and began putting on his clothes. I sat up and winced at the dull ache between my legs.

That’s when I noticed him walking toward my closet.

“Wait… what are you doing?” I asked, watching him open drawers and start stuffing some of my clothes into a small duffel bag.

“Taking you home with me,” he said casually, as if he were talking about something inevitable.

I stood up quickly, ignoring the soreness. “I never said I was going home with you,” I snapped, grabbing his arm to stop him.

He let me, turning to face me with that maddeningly confident smile. “You did,” he said, voice low and sure. “You said yes when you let me kiss every inch of your skin. When you let me make love to your virgin body.”

My breath hitched.

I turned a new shade of red and looked away quickly, only for my eyes to land on the bed.

The sheets. Stained red.

Oh God.

Without thinking, I darted toward the bed and yanked the sheet off in a panic. I could feel his amused gaze on my back, and then—laughter.

He was laughing.

Was it even possible to turn redder? Because I did. I clutched the sheet to my chest and spun to face him, mortified. Words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Fine! I’ll go with you! Just… don’t mention that again.”

His laughter only deepened, but when he stepped forward and kissed my forehead, I saw it—beneath all that amusement was possession, protectiveness, and something terrifyingly close to love.

“I won’t,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “But I want you to understand something. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

I didn’t know what this was. What we were becoming. But I knew one thing for certain.

I had just given him my body.

Now, I was dangerously close to giving him my heart too.

---

As I followed him out of the room, still wrapped in that absurdly soft sheet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was changing. I had entered this world of Dante’s, thinking I could control the situation, that I could keep him at arm’s length. But I’d been wrong. So wrong.

Dante’s world wasn’t one that played by the rules, and neither was he. He wanted me. All of me. And I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I wanted him back, even though it terrified me.

I watched as he swung the duffel bag over his shoulder, his stride confident, purposeful. There was no hesitation in his steps, no second-guessing. He was a man who took what he wanted, and I had just become his newest prize. I wasn’t sure whether I hated that idea or secretly reveled in it.

"Come on," he said over his shoulder, his voice soft but firm, "We’re leaving."

I hesitated for a split second before I followed him, my heart in my throat. The door to the room closed behind me with a quiet thud, marking the end of a chapter I wasn’t sure I was ready to close. But the pull of Dante, his presence, the heat that flared between us—it was undeniable.

I didn’t know where this was going. But I had a sinking feeling that wherever it led, it was going to be far more dangerous than I could ever prepare for.

And that thought was both thrilling and terrifying at the same time.