Chapter 44 #2
“I’ve taken it out.” He tightens his hold on my wrists and continues to fuck me.
How did I sleep through that?!
He can’t go particularly deep like this, but the sensation of being stretched by his girth, with every penetration, is sublime.
I exhale a breathy moan. “I’m going to make a mess.”
“Make a mess.” He nips against my throat. “I couldn’t give a fuck.”
I’m on fire. My skin feels like an inferno. Why did I sleep in his bed? I basically invited him to fuck me. “It aches.”
“I know, baby, but you can take a little more just for me, right? Afterward, I’ll run you a nice hot bath.”
Is he crazy?
God, why does this feel so crazy good?
There’s a climax bearing down on me; I can feel it building. I just need a little nudge.
I tug against his hold. He must realize what I want because he releases my hands.
My fingers find my clit in small circles that have me coiling tight.
His fingers butt up against mine, swiping right over my clit.
A cry escapes my lips as the sweet climactic waves swallow up the whole of my core and lower abdomen, sparking detonations that set me twitching and bucking.
His fingers shift to my hip, holding me tight, his strokes turning fast, sharp, stabbing, and I’m still bucking, my pussy choking his cock until he stills, his cry muffled against my throat. A hot flood fills me. I can feel him pulsing inside me, our intimate heartbeats thumping a tattoo.
Should I be mad about what he did? I’m tired, sore, sleepy—a giggle bubbles up.
He nips the side of my throat and pulls out.
I clamp my hand over the deluge that pours out. “Some warning would be nice. You mentioned a bath?”
“On it.” He slides out of the bed—I go to sit, but he kisses my forehead and urges me back down. “Stay there. I’ll come and get you when it’s ready.”
I try not to think about the state of the bed as I hear the water running.
A short time later, he comes to collect me. He draws the covers back, grimaces, peels my panties and T-shirt off, and carries me through to the bath.
“You want to go, first?”
“Um.” My cheeks heat at this weirdly domestic conversation. “Yeah.”
“Open the door again before you get in the bath.”
He leaves.
I make the mistake of looking down at myself and wince.
I go, then rinse myself in the shower, and open the door as instructed before I slide into the huge bath filled to the brim with water and bubbles. The water still turns pink. Maybe I missed somewhere? I’m going to need another shower, but I’m here now and the hot water feels good.
Beyond the bathroom door, I can hear him thumping around—changing the bed, I presume.
He takes a shower while I’m still in the bath. I’m halfway to sleep when he urges me from the tub—despite my vigorous complaints—to the shower, where he rinses me off.
He dries me. There is a soft curse and a faint tremble when he reached the small baggage over the bit mark.
But he takes a fresh bandage from the vanity to replace the wet one without a word.
He slips a pair of sleep shorts on, and hands me a clean T-shirt to wear…
no panties. At some point, while I’ve been distracted, he’s placed a tampon on the side of the vanity, in the wrapper and ready to use.
He’s weirdly thoughtful… for a man who just pounded me while I’m on my period.
“You want to use that, baby, or are you sore? And don’t worry about making a mess in the bed.”
My cheeks get hot again. I can’t make eye contact with him, but my entire awareness is filled with him and the ripped planes of his body—he’s in really good shape. It’s ridiculous, really. “I’m fine with using it, thanks.”
He doesn’t close the door this time, but he does leave, his footsteps fading like he’s left the bedroom. I think about shutting the door. But I can’t hear him, so I go ahead.
It hurts a little—I’m definitely tender down there. When I enter the bedroom, he’s coming back through the door from the hall with a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. He shakes two pills out while I slip into the bed and hands them to me before passing me the glass.
I can’t look up at him. It’s too much. The other times have been so rushed. All I can think about is how much I’ve wanted this man for so long, how stunning he is, how he’s just been inside me.
He takes the glass from me, puts it onto the nightstand, and tips my chin up until I meet his eyes. His face softens. He smiles. “I love you.”
He what?
I blink. My mind is gloriously blank.
“Lie down, baby.”
I do.
He turns off the light beside me, circles the bed, and slips into it behind me. Then he curls his arm around me until his palm is over my stomach, as he did before.
His breathing evens out. He’s asleep. This beautiful man, this conflict of sweetness and possession, has fallen asleep snuggling me.
If Christian is my dark knight, Dante is the devil himself.
I’m tired. I should sleep. But I’m also wired. He said he loved me, and, I don’t know why, but it’s like a wakeup call. It means I can’t stay here. Staying here puts people I love in danger.
Why didn’t I demand Cherry give me the code? Why didn’t I consider this before?
Beyond the window, dawn is breaking.
Terror has been such a constant in my life for so long that this moment is like the arrival of a familiar, bitter old friend.
He can’t love me.
And I can’t love him.
He’s married to someone else, and so am I.
Maybe he was with her tonight, and that was why he came home so late. And then he just slid into bed with me, and I let him, because, let’s face it, I’m weak for him.
I feel sick.
My resolve hardens. There is a bigger picture here than Dante and me and the dream of what might have been, and that’s not even considering the minefield of Christian. My life has already been ruined, but I can’t let Ettore ruin more lives; I can’t take that risk.
Tears begin to trickle down my cheeks as a plan unfurls and I recognize what I must do.
The first step is always the hardest. Isn’t that what they say?
Carefully, so as not to wake him, my heart shredding, I slip out from under his arm and out of the bed. I look down at him, wanting to commit this image to memory, a perfect moment, forbidden, a taste of what might have been mine, once upon a time.
This can’t happen again. Tomorrow, I need to be stronger.
The door is key coded, and I don’t have the code. Maybe if I asked, he would give it to me?
He won’t.
However, I know someone who has the code, who might help me.
Someone I already think of as a friend.
But what if she won’t help me? Can I betray her trust?
If it comes down to it, if I have to, I will.