“I can’t.” The words grind out of me, thick and longing. I’ve been dying to hear him say that word all week, but I don’t want it when he isn’t in control of anything.
“Yeah, you can,” Dante replies, tugging me closer. “Just like you can make yourself come.”
My eyes shoot to him so fast that I grow dizzy. I thought he’d be too intoxicated to remember what happened before he left.
“I’ll be good,” he lies, his eyes flaring with mischievousness. “I promise.”
I nod. Don’t look at me like that. I don’t believe a word he speaks. It is the fact that he butchers a world-renowned signal of telling the truth.
How can you mess up crossing your heart and hoping to die?
“Keep your underwear on,” I demand when he follows clumsily removing his shirt with his hand lowering to his trousers, which he can’t remove since he’s wearing shoes.
“I’ll get them.”
His groan when I fall to my knees to undo his laces would usually instigate a severe bout of recklessness. It doesn’t have the same effect today. His clothes don’t solely smell of floral perfume. His body is coated in it.
“Almost there.” I grunt as I tug on the back of his designer shoes to remove them. “Now you can step out of your pants.”
My throat brutally swallows when I lift my eyes to make sure he heard me, and they’re almost taken out by an impressively large and throbbing penis. Dante didn’t keep his underwear on as asked. He is butt-fucking naked, and I stare at his rippling abs, big cock, and tattooed pecs like I’ve earned the privilege to disrespect him so greatly.
“I’m so sorry.” I slap a hand over my eyes before turning my head away. “I shouldn’t have looked.” My bones creak in protest when I leap to my feet. Years of abuse before years of dancing in four-inch stilettos have aged my body faster than normal. “I’ll wait for you in there.”
This time I don’t make it even a step away. Dante’s knees buckle, and he starts to collapse. Reacting purely on instinct, I steady him before he falls to the floor with a thump loud enough to wake Camille.
“Sit. I’ll bring the water to you.”
Nodding, he slumps into the chair, then cradles his head in his hands. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”
“I have an inkling.” I switch off the shower, then wet a washcloth before returning to the vanity. “How much did you drink last night?”
Dante’s nose creases. “I didn’t… I don’t think.”
As I wipe at the mess crusted on his chin, I twist my lips. “You smell a little boozy. Not enough to wonder if you played a drinkinggame, but there’s a hint of…”—I breathe in deeply, flaring my nostrils—“the oak barrels they use when making Dalmore whiskey.”
“A fan of three-thousand-dollar whiskey?” he asks, slurring.
Hair tickles my spine as I shake my head. “I despise the scent of it. Too many?—”
“Bad memories?” he says with me.
“Yeah.” My hand shakes when I remove a smear of red lipstick from his mouth before I instruct him to lift his arms.
“I’m barely touching you,” I murmur when he squirms from the washcloth scrubbing his pits. He doesn’t have bad body odor. I’m praying a good scrub will activate his natural manly scent enough to stop me from wondering why he smells like perfume and has a lipstick stain on his mouth. “Stop being a wuss.”
Dante arches a dark brow. It’s remarkably rigid considering how badly he’s swaying. “Did you just call me a wuss?”
“No, of course not.” My last word comes out with a squeal when he ends my lies by tickling my ribs. “Don’t.” My warning is stern and to the point. “I hate being tickled. It’s one of only a few things I hate.”
His smile.Kill. Me. Now.
“Dante…”
His name barely leaves my mouth when it’s replaced with an ear-piercing scream. He doesn’t just tickle my ribs, though. He finds the sensitive spot behind my knees, and I buck and kick out like I’m in the throes of ecstasy.
I contort so much that by the time the washcloth is discarded on the floor, I’m practically sitting in Dante’s lap and fighting for air. I’m not solely breathless from being tortured with immature, woeful tickling hands. It’s from the closeness of Dante’s face when his body responds to my closeness.
He thickens under my ass as his arms band around my back to tug me in nearer.