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“Maybe I just felt sorry for her. Her nose job was botched enough. I didn’t want to make it any worse.”
He snickers. “You’re un-fucking-believable.”
I don’t want to smile, but my lips betray me. They curl upward. I bite back the giggle in the back of my throat, but it manages to escape anyway.
“I was hoping I’d eventually see that human side of you again.” He winks. “I thought that I imagined it.”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I say, my smile fading. “I want to be alone.”
“Then you should have remembered to lock the front door.” He steps closer to me, his voice low and husky. “But I would have gotten to you eventually.”
Lust swirls around my head, fogging up my mind and clouding my sensibilities. The electricity between us crackles, and the heat in his gaze ignites the flickering embers in my belly. They shoot out to every limb, scorching every cell, and he hasn’t even laid a finger on me.
I feel drunk. Disoriented. Unsteady.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not numb.
That scares me more than anything else.
I back away from Rocco, my hands flying up to my temples. No, no, no! This isn’t happening. This is just physical, nothing more.
It can’t be more. I have nothing to offer him…or anyone, for that matter.
I just want to be alone!
Or…do I?
Say something…say something! Anything! Just keep your distance. Letting him in is too dangerous.
“How’s um…Stoli 2?” It’s the only thing I can come up with, and even croaking out his name forms a thick knot of tears in my throat. The memories…goddammit…they come rushing back like a tidal wave, crashing over me and whipping me left, right, upside down, and inside out.
And before he even has a chance to respond, my hands fly up to my mouth in an attempt to prevent the hysterics from wracking my body yet again.
Too late…
But this time, I let it happen. I don’t try to hold back.
Because I really don’t want to be alone. I want someone to hold me, to tell me it will be okay, that it really wasn’t my fault, that I’m not to blame for everything. I need to hear that, need to believe it, if I have any hope of ever recovering from that day.
So when he pulls me into his arms, I allow myself to fall into them, breathing in the scent of his cologne until it makes me dizzy. The tears flow from my eyes and his arms tighten around me in response. It only makes me cry harder.
Time pretty much stops, and I don’t care if I stay here wrapped in his embrace forever. He holds me, rubbing a hand down my back as my sobs finally quiet. Even after I told him…actually, screamed at him…that I hate him.
Is he a glutton for punishment or what?
He doesn’t speak at all, and thank fuck for that because I have no idea what is happening to me and I’m afraid of what may come spewing out of my mouth if I open it. His fingers stroke the back of my neck and my spine suddenly morphs into a limp spaghetti noodle. Ohhh…what is he doing with those magical fingers? He’s making me forget, distracting me from the toxins flooding my veins, all by innocently targeting an erogenous zone I never even knew existed.
My knees buckle, my arms tentatively reaching around his muscular back.
I’m not a hugger. At least, I’m not anymore.
But this…I could get used to this.
His head drops on top of mine, his warm lips resting against my hair. Goosebumps shoot up my arms and down my legs, despite the fact that they’re covered in velour. I’ve never been so affected by…sentiment.
Holy crap.
Who the hell am I?