Page 28 of Do It For Me
“N-no. It’s nothing, really. It w-was my f-fault. You don’t have to—”
“I’ll kill him,” he growls, getting up. I grab his arm, trying to pull him back down. “I swear I’ll—”
“No.”
Desperation surges through me, and I act before I think. I throw myself at him, pressing my lips to his. He stumbles backward, falling onto his back with a grunt as we crash into a basket, tipping it over.
Straddling him, I pull away, my hand pressing firmly against his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath my palm, wild and erratic. If I thought it was fast before, it’s nothing compared to this.
I must admit, I’m breathing hard too.
I pant, waiting for the sadness to overcome me, but I’m just feeling good. Too good.
He’s not touching me, though I want him to. Why? What is this?
I lean into him again. His kisses are more passionate than mine. I don’t know how to do this, so I let him take the lead.
His lips are so soft and warm. His tongue grazes my lower lip before brushing against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. His hands move to my hips, his fingers pressing into the fabric ofmy jeans with desperation, yet carefully. A quiet moan escapes me when he tightens his grip, pulling me closer… and it’s not close enough.
How can you go from wanting to live inside a bubble to craving the feeling of being under someone else’s skin? Will I become like the men who wronged me if I can’t get enough of him?
He grabs me by my waist. I instinctively tilt my hips forward, and something flickers inside me.
His lips mould perfectly to mine, as if we were made for this. He knows exactly where to touch and how, I don’t feel ashamed for wanting to run my fingers through his hair or deepen the kiss. What is happening to me?
He starts sitting up, one hand holding my back. I stroke his hair, yanking a little while his hands slide underneath my shirt. I trace the line of his sharp jaw, the stubble from his shaved beard lightly prickling against my fingertips. It’s rough and smooth at the same time.
He’s the one who pulls away from me, and we stare at each other, trying to catch our breath. I press my forehead against his, closing my eyes.
“Please, don’t hurt him,” I whisper. “It’s not worth it.”
“Amore…”
“I’m begging you. Let it go.”
He sighs, his fingers gently trailing over the nape of my neck. “What else did he do? Why? Was it because of me? Because I didn’t get you in time? Don’t lie.”
Tears well up in my eyes.
“He… He ripped the cardigan. Then he choked me, and I—he hit me because… he doesn’t…”
“He doesn’t…?”
“He doesn’t… want abastard.”
He rolls his eyes. I don’t understand why that bothers my father either. I can’t get pregnant unless I get married. Maybe it’s just the idea of me being used, as he would say.
Dante takes my hair away from my neck. His fingers graze over my marked skin as he leans to kiss it, sending a shiver down my spine. “I can’t let this go, sweetheart.”
“Please…” My voice is barely a whisper. “I haven’t slept this well in months. With you, I-I feel safe. If you say something to him, he’ll break the engagement. I’m not supposed to talk about anything that goes on inside the house.”
His eyes soften before he wraps his arms around me. I do the same, burying my face against his neck and closing my eyes.
“I don’t want to use you, but you’re my only hope to escape that hell. You promised me.”
“Use me as you please, sweetheart. I’m taking you anyway.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips. “Just don’t be worse than him. Please.”
