Fractured Freedom(42)

“I can be if you want me to,” he said, holding my gaze like he was asking permission. There was some line there, one we’d never crossed, and maybe I wanted to toe it, see if it burned me to be on that edge. There was a part of Dante I’d never seen, and even after all these years, I wanted to be greedy with him.

Even more, I wanted us to coexist here, and I wanted to be able to stand on my own without getting lost in this man. That might have meant seeing what I could handle with him, seeing what I was capable of.

Or maybe I was indulging in not doing what was expected. I wasn’t quite sure. Still, after a beat, I slumped onto the bed, sighing out, “Fine.”

“Shirt off,” he commanded.

I couldn’t help my eyes widening. “Seriously?”

“I’m giving you a massage. That requires oil. You want it on your clothes?”

I rolled my eyes. “Turn around, then.”

He lifted a brow as if I was being ridiculous. “We’re not past that? I’ve already seen you naked.”

He was practically saying he wasn’t attracted to me, I swear. He smirked like this was all so easy for him, and that made a dimple pop in his beautiful cheek. I had to stop myself from literally getting up and licking it. The fact that my body reacted to him that quickly—but he didn’t react at all—had me wanting to show him otherwise. If he was past it, I suddenly wanted him to prove it.

I narrowed my eyes, and just as he was about to turn around, I pulled my shirt over my head.

It was his turn to look shocked. “Fuuuuck,” he dragged out and stared down at me. His pupils dilated, and I felt the wave of his hunger as he licked his lips.

“Dante.” I leaned back as I placed my hands behind me on the bed and let my breasts hang out on display within my red lace bra. I was so happy I’d bought some lingerie before I’d come to Puerto Rico. “I can put the shirt back on if you aren’t past seeing me without one.”

He cleared his throat, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob once before his intense gaze was back on mine. “Lie down, tease.”

“Me?” I giggled as I turned to lie on the bed and face the TV. “I didn’t even want my shirt off. I thought it would be weird.”

“Sure,” he grumbled like he regretted his decision. He walked past me to grab my ice bucket and fill it with ice from my fridge in the kitchen area.

“What do you need that for?” I pondered out loud.

“It’ll cool the rocks.” He didn’t elaborate much as he walked back to the nightstand.

“Okay. Well, are you going to turn the TV on or something while we do this?”

“No.” The rummaging behind me had me glancing over my shoulder. He had poured some sort of oil that smelled like peppermint onto his hands and was rubbing them together, slowly, methodically, rhythmically.

I was doomed.

“Head down and relax,” he murmured. “This is to get some of your stress out. You can’t do that with the television on.”

“TV always makes me relax.”

“Sure, but it doesn’t make you work through whatever issues you’re having.”

Suddenly both of his big hands were on my back, rubbing warm oil into it, and all I could respond with was a hiss. Dante’s skin on mine was like gasoline to fire. I sparked and blew up every time. My whole body tightened under him. My nipples, my pussy, my ass, everything. I would be surprised if he couldn’t feel my skin going taunt.

“They aren’t issues,” I grit out. “They are real life concerns. You’re not who you said you were. After all these years … Does my family know?”

“You think they all know and kept it only from you?” he inquired.

“You know, I’m the older sister—even if it’s only by three minutes—but everyone still treats me like …”

“Like a baby and their prized possession?” He chuckled. “Because you are that. You’ve made all of them proud.”

“Not sure why. I’m an adult, not a baby, and we all have good jobs.”

“You’re the one who didn’t do much wrong.”

“True. I worked hard to become a nurse.”

He hummed, and I felt it right down to my toes. “I know. You always tried hard at school.”

His hands slowly dragged all the way up my back, fingers feeling each vertebra and pushing into the divots of my spine like he knew exactly which points needed his pressure. I moaned when he got to my neck, and I didn’t know whether to relax into his kneading or jerk off the bed. My body warred with itself, desiring more but knowing I couldn’t give much of anything.

“I should have tried harder,” I said, “and we both know it.” The fact that I hadn’t become a doctor was always a point of contention with my parents, and I’m sure my mother shared it with Dante’s mom.

They didn’t know, though, that I had just been trying to stay afloat. Getting good grades had been harder than ever before. I’d been drowning in self-loathing, and my therapist kept saying I had to give myself time to heal, to relax, and to be less than perfect.

“Try harder for who?” he pried as he kneaded at a knot. “You seem happy being a nurse. What good is a job if you’re not happy?”

Dante always tapped into the journey of being human and made it sound so simple. “Maybe I like being a nurse and maybe I like the idea of climbing to the top and being a doctor. I just wasn’t sure I was good enough to do it,” I confessed. It was something I never said out loud but the words tumbled out like I’d been holding them in for a long time.