Still missing the winter Olympics? Relive the glory of winter sports—and their very sexy athletes—in this excerpt from UNDONE BY YOU, a brand new novella in Kate Meader’s Chicago Rebels series! UNDONE BY YOU is out today.

Cade turned and almost dropped the frame.

Apparently, Dante had been working on more than just dish-clearing and dessert prep in the kitchen. A wardrobe change had occurred, and man oh man, were the results spectacular. The addition of a tie, vest, and jacket meant Dante was now dressed in a hot-shit suit.

I repeat. Dante Moretti is dressed in a hot-shit suit.

“You guys close?”

“We were. He died nine years ago.”

Nine years ago, around the time Dante came out publicly. The death of his grandfather was related to his decision somehow.

Dante placed a half-drunk glass of wine on a side table, shot his cuffs, and picked up his wine again. For the length of a long sip, he never took his eyes off Cade.

Cade couldn’t speak. Watching Dante watch him had evicted all rational thought.

“There’s cannoli in the kitchen,” the chef murmured, “but it needs time to get to the perfect eating temperature.”

Cannoli? Who the hell cares about cannoli when every freakin’ one of Cade’s fantasies was standing before him? “You changed.”

“You like when I wear a suit, don’t you?”

Cade nodded, his tongue too thick to respond. Dazed, he started at Dante’s shiny shoes and worked up slowly. Having seen the man’s thighs in the gym, Cade was hard-pressed to decide whether those bare, hairy pillars of temptation were better than the winter wool-covered tree trunks he saw now.

Cade took his time moving up, needing to savor every moment. Trim hips, narrow waist, and a thickening—under his very eyes—bulge in the crotch of his suit pants. The three buttons of his vest were done up, a slight disc-shaped lump in the pocket. It held an old-fashioned watch on a chain, the links of which draped at the side.

This crazy detail would have pronounced anyone else a pretentious asshole, but not Dante. It was elegance and style and placed the man in a league above. A dark blue tie matched Dante’s eyes. His broad shoulders filled out the jacket perfectly. There wasn’t a single thing Cade would change except . . .

Abandon. Cade planned to change Dante’s cool expression to one of utter and complete abandon.

Dante set the wineglass down and walked over, stopping a foot from Cade. His gaze dipped to Cade’s mouth, heated promise building in his eyes with each passing second. Another step, and he took the photo out of Cade’s hands and set it back on the mantel.

One thumb rubbed over Cade’s cheekbone. Just that one stroke, unbelievably sensual, and Cade was a mess.

Can’t breathe. Can’t . . . breathe. Can’t—

Cade managed to suck in a breath and on exhaling, Dante leaned in and licked the corner of his mouth. Oh, sweet Jesus. Some weird, garbled sound came out of him. But whatever it was made Dante smile, and then his lips moved over Cade’s slowly, building a fire, stealing all sense. Breaking Cade down to a cellular level. His hand found anchor at Cade’s nape, a gloriously possessive gesture, and Cade knew in that moment he’d give this man anything, anything, he wanted.

Not even last night’s win in New York could compare to the pulse spike when Dante’s lips took control. His tongue slipped in and licked inside, all sweet, dirty promise, blasting the fantasy to fragments and hurling it beyond Cade’s admittedly very active imagination. If this was what the kiss was like, how the hell was he going to survive the sex?

And hello, it looked like sex was back on the menu.