46. Faith
CHAPTER 46
Faith
I was thrilled at how the tie-up experiment had gone. I’d been meaning to try it out to make sure I’d captured the right movements and sequence of events in the scene I’d been playing out in my head. I only had a couple more chapters to go, and Dante’s reaction proved I’d gotten it right when my fictional Dante and Faith tried it out in my book. I hadn’t counted on this turn of events, though. Seemed like Dante wanted to give as well as receive.
I let him fasten one arm to the post, then the other. I even moved my legs to make it easier for him.
Dante paused beside the bed. I smiled up at him, delicious anticipation coursing through my veins. But instead of kneeling down and racking my body with pleasure, he leaned down and grabbed his jeans. Wait a minute. He wasn’t leaving, was he?
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You had your turn.” He slid a leg into his pants. “Now it’s mine.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“No buts.” He tugged his jeans up over his hips and sat down near the foot of the bed. “Since I can’t get you to talk about us, I figured I’d take this opportunity to force a conversation.”
I groaned. “Dante, there is no us. I’ve been perfectly clear about that. We both agreed, no strings.”
He wrapped his large, capable hands around my foot and dug his thumb into the instep. Wow, that felt good. Not as good as if he’d been rubbing another part of my anatomy, but I’d play along with him... at least for the time being.
“Is the pressure okay?”
“Yeah, that feels great. Although, I’d feel better if you used your skills about three feet higher on my body.”
Grinning, he continued to work on my foot. “Patience. So about us?—”
“No. I’m not taking part in this conversation.”
He moved his attention to my other foot. “Then I’ll talk, you listen.”
I closed my eyes, not that he’d be able to tell in the inky darkness, but it was the only act of defiance available to me in my current compromised position.
“Who are the flowers from?”
His thumbs circled my heel. Holy guacamole, he had great hands. “What flowers?”
“The roses sitting on your table. Are you seeing someone?”
My mouth went dry, and I eyed the outline of the bottle of water on my nightstand. “Of course not. They’re from a friend.”
“You’re the one who’s been teaching me about the symbolism of flowers, remember? Pretty sure red roses aren’t for friendship.”
“They’re no big deal. Some guy my mom’s pushing on me sent them. He’s all the way out in California.”
“So, you are seeing someone else?”
My stomach started to tighten. “I’m not even seeing you. I told you, I don’t date.”
“This guy out west, he’s mom-approved?”
Dammit, I’d meant to hand the flowers off to Jess before he saw them. I’d told Carter I wasn’t interested, tried to let him down easy. It wasn’t my fault he sent me some dumb flowers. Okay, gorgeous flowers. Now Dante’s nose was all out of joint, but the flowers didn’t mean a thing. He was the one I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with, even though I couldn’t admit it to him.
“My mom thought we’d hit it off. We didn’t. No big deal.”
“But he sent you flowers.”
“Yeah, so what?”
Dante let my foot fall back onto the bed. “Whoever he is dropped some serious dough on those roses.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, when a guy gives a girl flowers like that, he expects something in return.”
I pictured Carter earnestly spilling his heart over oysters at the marina, and then spilling the contents of his stomach over the table. “I promise you, it’s not what you think.”
Dante shifted closer to me on the bed, and my body rolled toward him. “And what do you think I think?”
“I think you think too much.” I groaned. “Can’t you just let it go?”
“Whatever’s going on between us, it’s more than just sex.” Dante’s hand came to rest on my thigh, sending a zing of anticipation to where I wanted to feel his touch the most. “I mean, the sex is great, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something more.”
I hummed to myself, trying to drown him out—a childish move, but maybe it would work. I’d never admit he was right. My plan didn’t have room for a relationship, at least not until I became a tenured professor. Maybe it was time to call things off.
“Just untie me. Now, please.”
Dante continued, “Try telling me you don’t have feelings for me.”
“I don’t have feelings for you,” I growled through gritted teeth as I bit my bottom lip. A little white lie, no big deal. “Are you happy?”
“You’re lying.”
A sharp laugh broke free from my chest. “How can you tell? You don’t know me at all.”
That was the problem. No one knew who I really was. I didn’t even know myself anymore. I’d spent so long hiding under the layers of my mother’s cloak of fame, I wasn’t sure I could ever break free. At least not without hurting the people I loved.
Scratch that. I loved my mom and even Clem. But if I came out of hiding as Chastity Austen, the person I might end up hurting the most was sitting right next to me. And love? I didn’t love Dante Bishop.
Did I?
“You think I don’t know you?” His fingers fiddled with the tie on my ankle. “Your favorite beer is Honeyweiss, but only on tap.”
I rolled my eyes. “You got me. Yep, you really know me.”
“And you’re superstitious and love the number thirteen.” He released my other foot.
“I flat out told you that.”
He walked around the bed and untied my wrist. “You’re stubborn as hell and would do anything for your friends.”
I blew a raspberry.
“You’ve got a wicked sense of humor, have a talent for handling Meemaw, and never fail to call me on my bullshit.” He climbed onto the bed and hovered over me as he untied the other wrist. His thumb brushed over my lower lip. “You always bite your lower lip when you lie.”
“You’re wrong, Dante.” I rubbed my wrists and bit my lip.
His mouth covered mine, and he nipped at my bottom lip. “You’re lying, Faith.”
I mumbled into his neck, “I don’t want to talk anymore. If you want out, just say so.”
He drew back, and I could just make out the edges of his face in the dim light coming in from the parking lot outside my window. “I don’t want out, Faith. I want you.”
I took in a deep gulp of air, suddenly feeling bare and exposed, and pulled the sheet over me. What was wrong with me? Wasn’t this what most women wanted?
Dante cupped my face in his hands and traced the outline of my jaw with his finger. “What do you say, Faith? Want to ditch the rules and try this thing for real?”
Images crowded my brain... holding hands while walking across the quad, doing prep work together at the library, driving down to Meemaw’s for a Sunday dinner. Don’t lose focus. Guys like Dante don’t stick around. Remember your dad?
My teeth pressed into my bottom lip. “No, I want to keep things the way they are.” The safe way. Where I finished my manuscript and we’d go our separate ways in a couple of months.
He took my hands in his. “You’re scared. I get it. But we’ll figure it out together. Someone once told me that all it takes is one moment of courage to change your life forever.”
“Who told you that?” I’d written that exact statement into Carnal Knowledge . Could Dante possibly be reading my book? No way. An erotic romance would never find its way onto his bookshelf.
“Doesn’t matter who said it. The point is, take a chance. What have you got to lose?”
“Are we done here?” I pulled the sheet tighter around me and sat up. He had no idea what I had to lose. I could lose it all: my family, my teaching job, my career. If I let him in, if he got close enough, he’d figure out my secret and everything could disappear.
“So that’s it then?”
“I guess so.”
“Unbelievable. You’re right, Faith, I guess I don’t know you at all.” He stood from the bed and scrounged around the floor for the rest of his clothes.
I fisted my hands in the sheets. Every ounce of my being wanted to call him back to bed, wrap my arms around him, and let him love me.
He was right, he knew me better than anyone.
And that’s exactly why I had to let him go.