Page 59 of Unorthodox
None of those places are safe. None of them were ever made for me. But when Dante seems to come to a decision, when he shoves me backward on the bed, starts unbuttoning his shirt, I don’t care.
I’ll get out of here first, and I’ll figure out where I’m going later.
Anywhere is fucking better than here.
I release him, shove down my pants, kick them off from around my ankles and onto the floor before I lie back on the bed. Dante’s body isn’t as lean as Max’s. Instead, he’s rippling abs, bulky muscle. He has a tattoo on his inner forearm, a string of letters and numbers that remind me of a barcode. A brand.
His eyes are heavy on mine as he undoes his belt. But he takes both guns out of his holsters first, sets them on the nightstand carefully, never taking his eyes off of me.
I realize I’m still in my underwear, and I know I need to take them off. I know I need to get ready for this, because it’s what I want, and it’s what I need to do. But suddenly, I feel a wave of anxiety crashing over me, my stomach twisting into knots.
Of all the things I’ve done, all the things I’ve seen, I’ve yet to do anything sexual with a man that didn’t want to harm me. That didn’t want to force me. Even the guards I attempted to seduce, just like I am now, they had already caused me pain.
And Danik…I shovehimback into the box in my mind.
Dante pushes down his black pants, and I see the outline of his cock through his boxer briefs. I can feel his eyes on me as he steps out of his pants. I know I need to get myself together, because if I hesitate, if I look like I don’t want this, that’ll give him the confirmation he needs to stop.
To back out. Ruin my chance of an escape.
I don’t even know why he’s doing this. I don’t know what he did before he came into Max’s hands, what my provocation in the hallway meant to him but…I don’t care.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of my underwear, and I hold his gaze as I pull them down. Past my thighs, over my knees, until I can let go and kick them off with my feet.
He comes to the bed, leaving his boxers on, positioning himself over me, knees on either side of my hips, hands on either side of my head. “You’ve never done this before.”
I almost laugh out loud.I wonder if that’s what Max thinks. If that’s why he won’t fuck me.He really thinks I’m a virgin?The idea would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so fucking sad.
My hands go to Dante’s shoulders, and I like that he lets me touch him. Something Max would never do.
I think about lying to him. Telling him it’s my first time. But if I confess the truth, that’s another secret between us. Another reason for him to help me, because he knows things he shouldn’t.
“Yes,” I tell him quietly. “I have.”
I watch him swallow, watch his green-brown eyes widen in surprise. “You have?” he whispers, stunned.
A small smile plays on my lips. “He thinks I haven’t?”
Dante averts his gaze, for one second, then shakes his head in agreement.
“Surprise,”I tell him, mouthing the word with the faintest trace of sound.
He stares at me, unblinking, for several seconds. I wonder if he’ll betray me now. I wonder if this was a ploy all along. A way for Max to find out without asking me, knowing I might lie.
But then Dante huffs a small laugh and simply says, “I should’ve known a girl as hot as you are would’ve found a boy willing to break all the rules for you before I showed up.”
ThenI’mstunned into silence, a strange, unfamiliar warmth creeping into my chest, emotions threatening to strangle me. Ruin this.
But Dante doesn’t let that happen. Instead, his eyes roam over my body, and he shoves my shirt up to my neck. Then his hand is massaging my breasts, over my sports bra. My nipples tighten, and I squeeze his shoulders, enjoy the flex of hard muscle, and his firm hand on me.
My stomach flutters, heart races, and if I think about this too hard, I know I’ll panic. Not because of what we’re doing, but because of what would happen to me if Max found out.
I glance behind Dante, see the door is almost closed.
Almost, but not quite.
He freezes, his eyes catching where mine went.
“When is he back?” I ask, and when I say the words aloud, I marvel at the fact I haven’t asked before this. At how little I’ve demanded for myself.
