“She’s not like that. And even if she was, I’d never allow it.”
He nods, as the words sink in.
“When should I plan on taking your mother to Samantha and Will’s?”
“I’ll let you know.”
52
DANIELA
“Can I get you anything?” the flight attendant asks once Antonio and I are seated on the plane, returning to Porto.
He glances at me from the other end of the sofa, and I shake my head. “Just some privacy,” he says, crisply, shooing her away.
“What a day.” I slip off my shoes and sprawl out. “But it’s over.”
“Not quite.” Antonio slides closer to me and stretches out his long legs on the coffee table. “You still need to talk to Valentina.”
I can’t think about it, and I certainly don’t have the energy to argue with him. “Do we really need to discuss this right now?”
“No.” He reaches for my bare foot, massaging the arch expertly. “We could go back to the bedroom, and I could lick your pussy until you beg me to stop.”
“You have a filthy mouth.”
“You like it.”
“I do. I’ve come around to all your dirty ways.” I inch my foot closer to his cock, but he holds my ankle steady so that I land short of my destination.
His jaw is tight and the cords in his neck rigid.
“I should have been the man who helped you ease into sex, after those bastards terrorized you. If I hadn’t sent you away after your father died, I would have been that man.”
This isn’t about Josh—that’s behind us. This is about Antonio’s guilt over letting me leave Porto and go to a life that was more difficult than it needed to be. When I first arrived, he taunted me about cleaning toilets and frugal shopping. But in truth, that life helped make me a woman who believes she can do anything—including stand up to him when necessary.
“First of all, you didn’t send me away. You just didn’t stop me from leaving.”
He shrugs. “Semantics.”
“I wasn’t ready for you,” I murmur. “You sensed it. You just didn’t know why.”
I pause, deciding whether to open up to him, or if sharing details about my experiences with Josh is worth infuriating him. He needs to hear it, but I need to orchestrate carefully, or I’ll make things worse.
“Before I could experience you,” I divulge cautiously, “without being scared to death, I needed someone who would let me have control so that I could feel safe. More than anything, I needed to feel safe. I needed to experience intimacy with a partner that didn’t leave me recoiling in fear.”
His fingers dig into my foot in a way that’s no longer pleasant, and I pull away. His head snaps toward me. “You’re hurting me,” I say softly.
Antonio swallows and takes hold of my foot again, resting it on his lap, but he doesn’t continue the massage.
“Is that what you feel inside, when we’re having sex?” He’s raw and exposed. “Does some part of you recoil in fear?”
He’s as vulnerable as I’ve ever seen him.He wants to know if he’s a monster.That’s what he’s really asking. Even my fingernails ache for him.
No. You’re not a monster.It would be so easy to say. But he’d never believe it.
“I don’t know what it’s like for other survivors,” I explain, “but there were two parts I had to conquer when it came to sex. The first was being able to have physical intimacy without fear.”
Josh was gentle, and even though he didn’t know my history, he let me set the pace—always. I don’t share this with Antonio. It would haunt him. It’s not something he could ever do—or even what I want from him.