Page 8

CHAPTER 8

When Dante lifted Maarja to her feet, he leaned her against the shower wall and reached out to turn off the water…and she slid down to the floor. She giggled. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m tired and so… Do I sound drunk?”

“Yes, but that’s not the issue. You were hurt and grieved. You were in the hospital and they gave you drugs.” He sank down beside her and peered into her eyes. “I should never have come on to you.”

She was pretty sure he was checking her pupils, not flirting. “I fucked you. Remember? You told me to and I did.” All in all, she was feeling quite pleased with herself.

“A virgin. A damned virgin! Broke every rule—” He looked down at his dick as if he blamed it. “How dare a twenty-seven-year-old woman who lives in twenty-first century America become a virgin?”

“I didn’t become one. I never stopped being one. That not-touching thing.” Her voice wavered a little.

“Right. When you said something happened when you were eleven, I thought—”

He had thought she’d been raped. She’d always been glad that she hadn’t, but what had happened was bad enough to leave scars, some literal, some mental, some emotional. “I was at the bus station waiting for Aunt Yesenia to find me, as she promised, and a bunch of guys started to, um…”

“Touch you.”

She nodded, feeling ill at the memory. “Mr. Caruthers stopped them.”

Dante eased himself down beside her. “Who is Mr. Caruthers?”

“This old guy, a person of color. He’d been in the military and he was on the streets because he never quite left it behind. He saw things.”

“Hallucinations?”

“More like the future. Anyway, he told the guys to go away, he focused on each one and told their fortunes, and they scattered. He scared them. He sat with me until the morning, then he took me to Octavia and told her she’d avoided her destiny long enough. When he left, I cried, and he said he’d let me know when Aunt Yesenia came into town. Mr. Caruthers didn’t come back for two years, and then it was to bring Alex.”

“Your aunt vanished.”

“Abandoned me. I wasn’t hers, I mean obviously, and whenever she drank, she said she wanted something more than dragging me around being scared all the time, that sooner or later you’d find us and—” Maarja snapped her mouth shut. The meds and the sex must have removed all good sense if she was going to admit that to Dante Arundel.

He nodded as if she’d shared what her aunt had said. She supposed he might have a fair supposition based on what he knew and how much, and she was half-inclined to ask him straight out…but what if he hadn’t recognized her? Didn’t remember that time before? He was, after all, scarred from the experience. Or from some experience. In his family’s business, who knew?

She must have stared at him long enough and acutely enough that he felt he had to speak. “About the sex. I know at first it was uncomfortable—”

She snorted. “Uncomfortable? That’s a euphemism.”

“But you never seemed afraid or panicked. Did we manage to—?”

“It was memorable not in a horrible way.” She rubbed his arm and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Generally, after sex a couple freshens up and in this case, there was blood because, you know—virgin.”

She touched herself and stared at her red-tipped fingers. “How traditional.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Sensing tension, she looked up. He had that look again: eyes at half-mast, color on his cheeks and lips, and—she dropped her gaze—his penis had grown in length and girth. “Oh.”

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to…allow you to fuck me again. You’re too new and need to heal before we…”

“Do it again?”

“That’s up to you, but I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy. Next time you’ll be well, and I’ll prepare like a normal guy instead of a horny thoughtless beast—” He stopped almost mid-word and developed this appalled glower that foretold disaster for someone.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He stood up so fast his foot slipped on the massage oil and he slammed his hand flat on the wall, catching himself. He stared out the glass door toward the bathroom counter, then at his hand, then at his dick. He looked around as if he was looking for something and not finding it.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated, more urgently.

He adjusted the water temperature on the handheld, unhooked it, and knelt beside her. As if he hadn’t just experienced a twitch and bristle moment, he said, “As I was saying, generally after sex the couple freshens up so if you trust me to help you… Cool water should help with the irritation.” He sprayed his own dick until it shrank to almost post-coitus size. “For me, cold would be better, but cool is good for you. After that we can get you into bed and you can sleep after your harrowing day.”

She gripped his wrist firmly and shook it. “What is wrong?”

In a voice like doom, he said, “In a move of unforgivable carelessness, I didn’t wear a condom.”

She stared at him.

“I apologize. I swear I’ve never forgotten in my life. The stupidity—”

“I didn’t think about it, either!”

“You’re inexperienced, hurt, fatigued, grieved—you have every excuse.”

“I’m not looking for an excuse. I may be inexperienced, but I know better.” She took the handheld and sprayed her lady bits. She could call them that because, damn it, she wasn’t a guy. “You must know I’m not diseased.”

“Nor am I. I haven’t been with a woman in two years. Two long hectic years.” Grimly he paused as if he needed to count and confirm. “That’s not my primary concern. If you’re not on birth control for some reason, like to control your periods—” He waited hopefully.

She shook her head.

“Then—when was the last day of your last period?”

“It’s not that easy. The bleeding kind of trails off, you know.”

His teeth clinked together in irritation.

“Um, a week ago?” she ventured.

“Five days? Eight days?”

“I don’t pay attention. It’s an annoyance.”

“Don’t you keep track on your app?”

“I’ve never had a reason to care! I’m pretty regular. When I go work out and I beat the stuffing out of the punch bag, I figure I should start carrying tampons. Okay? ” She got progressively louder as she hefted herself to her feet. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’m going to take my freshened up honey house and go to bed, and if I’m pregnant I will let you know when I damned well feel like it.”

Although he hovered at her elbow, making sure not to touch her yet staying close enough to catch her if she collapsed, she climbed into bed (someone had changed the sheets when they heard the shower running). She tucked herself in and went right to sleep.

* * *

He dimmed the lights, pulled on a T-shirt and boxers, sat down on the chair beside the bed, watched her sleeping face, and remembered…