Dante moves first, rolling off of me and onto his side. But he keeps one of his arms around me, letting his fingers trail lightly, soft as a kiss, across the skin of my belly. Part of me longs to lean into him, to keep the connection between us, and the other part wants to get far away from this - from him - as fast as possible.

I sit up, still trembling.

"Not yet," Dante says, his strong arm sliding around my waist. "I'm not done with you."

He pulls me ...