Page 26 of The Healing Touch (Manwhore #3)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As soon as the door closed behind Dimitri, Becca slid off the counter and landed on the floor, her emotions all over the place.

What the ever-loving fuck just happened?

The beginning of us?

Her fingers went to her lips, feeling the bruised, swollen skin. If he didn’t call what he did to her fucking, then he was out of his damned mind. He’d fucked her over, but good. Her body hummed, ached in such a delicious way.

Her head landed in her hands, and she struggled to come to terms with what she’d not only let him do, but how he’d done it. The man turned into one of those dominant males she’d only read about, and her body had responded like a well-oiled, responsive little traitor. She mentally slapped herself.

Who was this man, and what had he done with her best friend?

A loud knock sounded. “Five minutes or I’m coming in to get you!”

Shit. She jumped up, banging her elbow on the counter in her haste. Wincing, she found her Led Zeppelin t-shirt and pulled it over her head. The fucker. How dare he? He couldn’t just do… do…that and then not give her time to process. The longer she thought about it, the madder she became.

Asshole.

She wiggled into her purple shorts and stomped out of the bathroom, expecting to see him in the front room of the suite, but found the balcony doors open instead. The scent of lasagna hit her nose, and her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in hours.

He was sitting at the small table outside, his expression pained as he swallowed medicine. Some of her anger waned as her best friend mode kicked in. He was obviously in a lot of pain, but she pushed it down. What he’d done was not okay.

“Dimitri.”

He looked up, flashing her his one-hundred-watt smile.

She ignored it, placed her hands on her hips, and let him have it.

“How dare you! You had no right to come in there and do that. I told you over and over we would never have a sexual relationship, and you completely ignored my wishes. It is not okay. When a woman says no, she means no. I am not one of your women, Dimitri, and I never will be.”

“No, Krasivaya , you are not one of my women and never will be.” He gestured to the empty seat across from him, a Styrofoam box waiting for her on the table. When she hesitated, he gave her his shy smile, one she hadn’t seen since high school. “Sit, please. I’m not going to jump you, I promise.”

What game was he playing now? She was so done with this shit. “No. I’m not going to sit like a good little girl, asshole. What you did…”

“Was exactly what we both wanted, and you know it.” He cut her off, his tone becoming frosty.

“If you had wanted me to stop, I would have. I am not the kind of man to force himself on you. You loved what happened in there. You just don’t want to admit it because you’re scared of how it made you feel.

You fucking loved it, Rebecca. Don’t play the coward or the self-righteous bigot now. ”

“I am not a coward.” She was playing the self-righteous card, though. It gave her something to hold on to, but she’d never been able to fool Dimitri any more than he could her. She hated him for it sometimes.

“No?” He cocked his head. “Then why are you lying to not only yourself, but to me? Just admit you liked what happened in that bathroom. Admit you liked my hands on you. My mouth all over your sweet pussy, my fingers buried deep inside while I kissed you. Admit it, Rebecca.”

He’d stood and stalked her, each word like a bullet lancing through her.

He pushed her up against the French door, her body caged in by his.

She wasn’t afraid despite the anger rolling off him.

Dimitri would never hurt her, no matter how pissed he was, and boy, was he mad. His whole body vibrated with anger.

He wanted her to ’fess up to liking what he’d done to her, to how he’d made her feel while he’d told her exactly what to do. Hell’s bells. She didn’t even want to admit to herself how much she liked it.

His lips found her jawline, and she shuddered, still completely raw from before. His idea of warfare was so unfair.

“Admit it.”

“Yes, asshole, I liked it.” She despised the way her voice betrayed how much she liked it, and in retaliation, she hauled off and kneed him. Hard.

He let out a cry that probably woke half the neighbors, but he staggered away from her, his hand cupping the family jewels.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” He wheezed the words out, his timbre going a little high.

“Because you fucking deserved it.” She bypassed him and sat at the table, the smell of the food delicious. “You decided for me that’s what I wanted. No one has that right. Doesn’t matter how much I liked it. You can’t do that.”

He waddled over to his own chair and sank down, his hands still busy trying to rub the sting out of his dick.

“You’re right,” he said after a few minutes. “I don’t have that right. Not yet, anyway.”

Her eyes narrowed. What did he mean, not yet?

“Do you like Olive Garden?”

The abrupt switch in conversation threw her. He sounded calmer, more like the Dimitri she knew and less like the asshole who always got what he wanted.

“Never tried it.”

“What? You’ve never eaten at Olive Garden? Endless soups and salads and the breadsticks. Oh, my God. I could live on their breadsticks!”

“I take it you’ve eaten there a lot?” He was up to something, but what?

Dimitri grinned. “Granted, it’s not the same as going to one of the Italian restaurants where the recipes have been passed down generation to generation, but the OG will do in a pinch.

Food is good, breadsticks are amazing. I got you lasagna.

” He reached over and opened the Styrofoam lid, letting the smell tickle her nose.

He saw the caution in her expression as she tried to figure out what his angle was.

While he’d expected some resistance, he’d never once thought she’d fucking haul off and kick him in the balls.

His dick was still screaming in pain, but it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

He had deserved it, but he’d never admit it.

Laughing would be bad right now. She was pissed enough as it was. “I know you like lasagna, so stop staring at me like I’m Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The colder it gets, the worse it’ll taste.”

“There’s a microwave.” She didn’t so much as make a move toward her plastic silverware. “What is going on, Dimitri?”

Dimitri set his own fork down and looked at her. “I want you. Plain and simple.”

“But I can’t be one of your women, D. It would destroy me.”

The hurt and insecurity in that declaration made his heart twist. He scooted his chair over next to hers and pulled her around so they were facing each other.

His legs had been through all they could take right now, but he needed his hands on her, needed her to know he meant what he was about to say.

“I don’t want that, Becca. I want a real relationship with you. I want you to be the first person I see when I wake up and the last person I see when I go to sleep. You’re the only woman I want.”

“For how long, though?” She ducked her head. “When you get bored, you’ll move on. I know you, Dimitri. I know how easily you get distracted and lose interest. I can’t…no, I won’t do that to myself.”

He tipped her head up to look at him. “Have I ever gotten bored with you in all the years we’ve known each other?”

“I don’t know.” Her brown eyes were fathomless. “I’m not around you all the time. We only chat on the phone or through text messages. You’ve never had the chance to be bored with me.”

“I’ll give you that, sweetheart, but only that. Here’s what I do know. You are the only person I have to talk to every day. In all the years we’ve been friends, when have I not called or texted each and every single day? Do you know why that is, Becca?”

“Why?” she whispered, her teeth biting her lower lip.

“Because I can’t sleep if I don’t talk to you, I can’t write.

Hell, I can’t function without hearing all that sass from you at least once during the day.

You’re the only woman who’s ever done that to me.

I love you, Becca. Is it the love I write about?

I don’t know, but I want the chance to see if that’s what this is.

I know I’m an asshole, a manwhore, and have always been proud of it, but this manwhore wants the chance to try for happiness with the one person who means more to me than anyone. Will you try, Krasivaya ? Please?”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Dimitri?”

He laughed, but he knew she was serious. “I’ve always loved you, Becca. Probably since that first day I saw you skulking in the back of the library.”

“I wasn’t skulking.” She pushed her chair away from him so she could eat. Pulling her food to her, she picked up her fork and stabbed at the rapidly cooling food.

“Yes, you were.” He winked at her and turned in his own chair so he could eat as well. “I liked it, though. You intrigued me.”

“Only because I didn’t fall all over myself trying to get your attention. You had enough of that from the idiot girls who batted their lashes and threw their boobs in your face every time you passed by them. No, thank you. I have more self-respect than that.”

“That’s why I liked you. You were a challenge. If not for me talking to you in Russian every day, I think you would have ignored me completely.”

“Probably, or I would have told Jackson you were bothering me, and he’d have had someone come beat the shit out of you.”

“He wouldn’t have done it personally?” Dimitri twirled some of the pasta onto his fork, grateful she started to relax.

She laughed, a full-on belly laugh. “You wouldn’t have been worth his time. One of his lackeys would have handled it.”

“Not worth his time?” He pouted, plastering on his best outraged expression. “I was the captain and quarterback of the fucking football team.”