Chapter 29
DIANGELO
Present
“You sure do a fuck-ton of yoga.” I shouldn’t complain—it could have been worse. Terina could have been into dumpster diving or those creepy porcelain dolls.
“I told you I can practice from home.”
I grunt, my gaze scanning the schedule she’s put together for the following week. “I’m not complaining.”
“Kind of sounds like it,” she quips softly. “You could get more done on your phone during class if you went back to waiting in the lobby.”
It’s been two days since Isa was over, and we’ve been balanced on a knife’s edge ever since. Thoughtful and civil yet restrained. We’re both aware of how precariously we’re perched, and neither of us knows if it’s better to push or pull.
“Not happening. And if that man is there again and thinks he’s going to put his hands on you, you remember what I said.”
My bristling words are a figurative push. I didn’t anticipate rocking the boat, but the thought of another man touching her riles me beyond rational thought.
Time slows while Rina decides how to respond.
Will she choose to keep the balance of our tenuous status quo? Or will she resist?
She squares her shoulders and crosses her arms over her chest.
Excitement stirs in mine.
She’s made her choice.
My fighter is ready to push back and see where we fall.
“Surely, you can hear how ridiculous that sounds. I don’t even understand why it matters to you.”
Push.
I step closer and glower at the auburn beauty across from me. “Because it’s not his job to touch you.”
Shove.
“It’s not yours either, but that didn’t stop you.” She takes a measured step of her own while pointing an accusatory finger my direction.
We’re now face-to-face, glaring at one another. Teetering on the precipice of unchartered territory. A world of untold treasures that I shouldn’t want but can’t resist.
“That’s different,” I ground out through gritted teeth.
“Why is it different?”
“It just is.”
“How?” she demands, anger rising in her voice.
The final thread snaps.
We begin our freefall.
“Give me your hand.”
My booming command resounds through the living room.
She complies without hesitation, exactly as I suspected.
“And your other hand.”
Again, she obliges without question, and it makes my blood sing.
I slowly lift her arms until they’re extended straight up. The air between us sizzles and sparks with anticipation. Time stands still as my hands lingering on hers before slowly trailing down her arms and ribs to rest at her waist.
“Hold them there.” My voice is as shredded as my restraint. Both raw with hunger for her.
I lower my gaze and feast on the sight of her pebbled nipples reaching for me through the snug fabric of her shirt. She notices my focus, but instead of yanking her arms down to hide herself, her chest expands on a heady inhale.
“Don’t. Move,” I breathe before slowly dragging her shirt up and over her head. She’s not wearing a bra, bare from the navel up.
The rush of her submission is dizzying.
She’s incredible.
And I’m man enough to admit I’m not just attracted to her.
I’m fucking famished for her.
“What is this, DiAngelo? What’s happening?” The tenderness in her voice has my dick swelling to the point of pain. Because I know the truth. Her show of vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s trust and courage. She’s trusting me not to hurt her, and there’s no more precious gift that a man can receive.
“This is me showing you that it’s not my job to touch you. It’s my duty because your body belongs to me.”