Page 37 of Fall
It’s not punishment.
It’s something far more complicated.
He knows what I like, reading my body and driving me higher. Our lips reconnect, and I taste the forbidden, rising into him, naturally meeting his thrusts. The passion he pours into our kiss distorts reality. Stars burst behind my eyes, lighting me up from within. The united languid pace mimics the concept of making love. And right there, in the midst of the Brazilian wilderness, I accept it. I’ve fallen for him.
I swear his senses are supersonic, knowing the very second I’m about to detonate. At that exact moment he thrusts up harder. A savage climax bursts through me, causing my inner walls to clamp around him as it takes control. He growls into my mouth, giving me the air I need to survive the force of him––to withstand the merciless orgasm.
I’m weak when he wrings out every shiver and shudder, chasing his own unstoppable release. The pleasured grunts he makes drive me wild, but I’m incapable of anything other than holding on to him. I hug the man who has shown me the perfect combination of both gentle and firm. The match to his dual personality.
When I mentally float back to the room, strong arms are wrapped tightly around me returning my embrace. His chest rises as he catches a breath while I desperately try to thread words together to form a sensible sentence.
Dante’s chin nestles at my temple, and warm lips press to the crown of my head. The echo of a single kiss fills the silence. Then he dips his face, softly circles his nose with mine and pulls back. He takes a quick step away and buttons his fly.
Serious eyes hold me under a spell. I’m perched before him, love drunk and exposed in more ways than one.
“That was…” I murmur, unable to express the confusing thump behind my ribcage. An unsettled vibe pulsates between us.
“I know,” he replies in an edgy growl. “It was…” His interpretation sticks in his throat. Long lashes lower, and he takes an obvious deep breath before turning away to the exit.
His spine stretches as every muscle in his back reinforces his powerful posture. The heat from his body vaporizes, replaced with a bitter frost. He doesn’t glance over his shoulder after he unlocks the door. Nor does he speak. He silently steps into the shadows so the sunlight streaming through the window leaves his skin, and the door closes behind him.
What just happened?
I slip off the counter, clean between my legs and redress. How dare he seduce me like that and then walk out without an explanation or even a smile. It’s not fair. The more I over-analyze, the angrier I become. My breathing changes from relaxed to erratic.
Who the hell does he think he is by dazzling me with meaningful sex and making me believe no one on this earth will ever replace him? I laugh off the crazy notion and lean against the wash hand basin for support. The tremble in my legs isn’t normal. I’m a shaky mess. From unkempt hair, to an irregular pulse, to the ache pinching my heart.
He’s not allowed to waltz in here and suggest eternity in a kiss, or awaken unthinkable emotions that have no place in this dynamic. To think I was going to admit to him that my feelings have escalated. I scrub my eyes and sweep my hair away from my face.
But I felt the intensity lacing his lips and witnessed the hunger in his eyes. Perhaps he’s changed his mind, deciding I should stay after all. He has a funny way of showing if that’s the truth. A pain spreads across my brow, and I press the heel of my palm against it to ease the pressure.
He gave me more than words. It was all there in the moment we shared together. And now, in the afterglow, I demand to know his true feelings.
Once my energy returns and I stop pacing like a trapped animal, I storm into the corridor and march to the treatment room. We’re going to have this out. Right here, right now.
He’s created the Oasis like the Alcatraz penitentiary. No one enters or escapes without his permission. I understand he’s cracking open the ironclad doors for his sisters’ murderer, but I’m also certain the men on his payroll can detain a prisoner. They serve and shield their ruler without falter.
Once Dante, or el Fantasma, whichever streak of malice in him strikes first, has finished avenging his sister, he’ll need someone to hold him. And that person could be me.
Laoch lays in a cocoon on the operating table. Jackson looks up from his clipboard when the door handle smacks into the wall.
“Iris.” He smiles softly, placating my nerves. “He gave the jaguar three drops of cannabis oil. It should sleep soundly until the morning.”
“Thank you. Where is…” I keep his real name to myself.
Jackson slants, reaching for a vial of simple solution. “He’s already left.”
“Left?”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“What do you mean he’s left… He’s still in the Oasis, isn’t he?”
He studies the minuscule font on the label, not making eye contact with me. “No. Luiz called him away on urgent business. He’s probably boarding his helicopter as we speak.”
My lungs tighten. “He didn’t tell me.” Jackson glances over and cocks an eyebrow. “When is he due back?” I ask, my voice breaking under the shock.
“I’m sorry, Iris. After he heard the news, he went straight to the restrooms to find you. I thought he was saying goodbye.” Jackson scratches his head. “I’m not at liberty to tell you any details. All I can say is, he’s leaving the Oasis, and from what I’ve gathered, you won’t be here when he gets back.” My fingers go numb, and I sway, clutching my stomach. Black blobs dance over my vision and threaten to bring me down. “Are you okay?”
