Nothing blacked out the pleasure that was still moving through him. Stronger than the regret. Stronger than the punishment.
So he lowered his head, and let the water wash over him. And waited. Waited for it to wash his feelings away.
* * *
Paige managed to collect her clothes and eat a bowl of ice cream. She was a little too stunned to face Dante. He had done…he had done things to her that she’d never imagined in her wildest fantasies. And she’d done things to him she’d never…
Oh, boy.
And then he’d left. And she didn’t know why. Reasons, reasons she made up, were buzzing around in her head, but they probably weren’t true, or they were at least only true in part. Dante wasn’t an easy man to figure out and she knew she wasn’t going to do it in five minutes over a bowl of Rocky Road.
She stood up and put the bowl in the sink, then made her way up the stairs. Ana was still sound asleep, completely unaware of the disaster that the two adults in the house were making of everything. And Paige had a choice to make: her room, or Dante’s room?
Yes, they had said they would do this while she lived here. But if his behavior after their first time was an indicator, he didn’t really want to share her bed.
Well, he was going to have to meet her in the middle. She wasn’t having sex with him and then creeping back to her own room like they were sneaking around. She just wasn’t. Yes, she did want to keep her heart uninvolved, and yes, she did fear that in some ways it was too late. But still. She wanted what she wanted, and he would have to deal with it.
Granted, she wasn’t an expert but she felt like falling asleep next to each other was an essential piece of the sex equation. She also felt a new surge of confidence, one she’d never felt before. He wanted her. He desired her. That meant she had some negotiating power here.
She walked into Dante’s room without knocking, and saw that he wasn’t in it. She could hear the water running in the bathroom, but there was no cloud of steam. No extra warmth from what, by her quick calculations, had to have been a thirty-minute shower.
She walked into the bathroom, her hands shaking a little bit.
“Dante?”
He didn’t answer. There was nothing, only the sound of the water.
“Dante,” she said, this time more forceful.
She pulled open the shower door and her heart stopped. Dante was standing, his hands braced on the wall, his head down, as water, cold water, rained down on his back. His muscles were shaking, his skin bright red.
“What are you doing?” she asked, certain she didn’t want to know. But equally certain that she had to know.
He lifted his head, his expression blank, his lips gray, his eyes black, bottomless pools. A shiver racked his frame.
Paige jolted into motion, grabbing a towel off the rack and holding it out to him. “Get out of there.”
“It didn’t work,” he said, his tone dark, a tremor running through his words.
“What didn’t work? You didn’t freeze your balls off yet?” she snapped. “Come here.”
“You have to pay for it somewhere, Paige,” he said, his tone rough, unsteady. “Every ounce of pleasure has a price.”
Her heart curled in on itself. He didn’t make any sense to her, but the undertone to his words was so raw, so very serious. She might not understand his words, but he did. And they carried a weight that she feared could crush them both.
She put her hand on his back, on his ice-cold skin. “A little bit of cold is sexy, but this isn’t.” She draped the towel across her arm and planted her hands on his shoulders, tugging on him. It wasn’t her strength that got him out of the shower, it was the fact that he complied.
He didn’t feel like himself. He was usually solid, hot beneath her fingertips. The muscle beneath his ice-cold skin trembled now, his stance weak. And his eyes…they weren’t blank now. The anguish was evident, there for her to see, to examine like she’d wanted. And now, she wanted to look away, because the rawness of it was simply too much. The pain too great.
But she didn’t. She met his gaze as she brushed the towel over his skin, drying him, her hands trembling, her stomach sick. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”