Five—
“I got some stones.” His deep voice from behind me made me jump.
“Dante!” When I spun to find him standing in that adjoining doorway again, my jaw dropped, and I tried my best not to look like I was salivating. He stood there like the Dante I remembered, in sweatpants and a T-shirt that fit snugly over his massive chest. His biceps bulged against the fabric, and I licked my lips as my gaze trailed down the veins of his arm to where he held a dark bag.
“I was going to read and go to sleep,” I said.
“No, you weren’t. You were going to be mad and stew. You need to relax. So let’s try something else.” He lifted some stones and then oil out of the bag to place on the nightstand. “A massage.”
“Um, I don’t like massages.” I clammed up immediately, my shoulders tensing and my back going ramrod straight. The idea of someone’s hands on me like that made my skin crawl.
“Who doesn’t like a massage, Lilah?”
“Me. I never relax. I feel like a stranger is poking and prodding me in all the wrong ways.”
“Well, I’m not a stranger, Lilah,” he said quietly, a look of something like determination on his face.
No. He was worse than a stranger. I’d only breathed to four, but that four was a good reminder of why this man could not give me a massage. He was the guy I’d lusted over far too many times to have him rubbing me in a non-sexual way. Then he was the guy I’d cried over because I’d lost something he never even knew was partially his. Now, he was someone I didn’t even know.
“Sometimes, you look at me with such sadness, Little Lamb.” He moved the stones into a line on my nightstand like I’d agreed to this. When I didn’t respond because I knew I couldn’t, he blew out a breath. “Lie on the bed and tell me why you can’t stand the sight of me. You had that sad look long before you knew my real last name.”
“You’re not giving me a massage, Dante.” I threw up my hands and paced the tile between the kitchen and TV.
“Delilah, I don’t issue commands for people not to follow them.” There was that voice again, the one that sounded so different from the boy I knew and grew up with. Here, he was dark, ruthless, unrelenting.
And it made me stop pacing immediately. I froze and stared at him as I chewed on my lip. “I’m not sure I know who you are at all. You’ve omitted the truth about your name, about my room, about everything. Maybe you are a stranger, Dante Armanelli.”
“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.