Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
“You wouldn’t cry this time, except from coming so hard. You’d be begging me for more.”
I gripped his wrist. Part of me wanted to keep him there and make good on his words, but the other remembered last time and what came after, remembered the last few months of his stalking, his brutality to make sure nobody got close to me, and now his irresponsibility when it came to his son.
I pushed his hand away, but he resisted. His gaze hit me, a dare, a provocation.
“I don’t want your touch.”
He smirked.
“If you don’t accept my boundaries, then whatever’s left of our friendship is dead.”
He lowered his hand and stepped back. “I thought our friendship died the night I took your innocence.” The way he said innocence as if I didn’t understand the first thing about it stirred up my fury.
It’s what I told him. And I thought it was true back then, but then he called me to help him with his son, and somehow this made me feel special, as if I were his confidant, when I was probably the only person stupid enough to say yes to his plea for help. “I helped you with Battista. If our friendship were dead, I wouldn’t have done it, right?”
Nevio smiled in the strangest way. “You’re a kind person. You always help people if you can. I thought you helped me for Battista’s sake.”
“For his and yours.”
“Is it so bad that I want you, Rory? I thought that’s what you wanted all along.”
“You want my body. You want to chase the next high, no matter the price. I want more. I don’t want a mad ride that never ends. I want trust, steadiness, commitment.” I shook my head at the look on Nevio’s face as if he could not grasp what I meant. I glanced at the kitchen clock. 11:00 p.m. It wouldn’t be long before Battista would wake for his bottle. “I need to sleep.”
Nevio didn’t stop me when I jumped down from the counter and walked past him. My body yearned for his touch, willing to take what he could give even if it would never sate my heart and soul. “Don’t come tomorrow if you intend to touch me again. Come to be a father for Battista and a friend who honors his promise.”
I didn’t wait for his reply. Without looking back, I went to my room and closed the door. I leaned against it and listened with bated breath. I didn’t dare breathe again until I heard the front door click shut and the lock being engaged through the code panel outside.
This arrangement couldn’t go on forever, not like this. Nevio would use every chance he got to touch me, to seduce me, because I promised to be a high he needed. Once he had me, he’d chase the next one.
Maybe that was the trick. I just needed to let him have me, and remember it, so he could move on.
Giving Nevio what he wanted. That idea had been ghosting around my head all night. It seemed like the easiest solution, one where part of my heart might be salvaged. Unfortunately for myself, I couldn’t bring myself to consider that option—yet. I wanted to believe this was so he’d get more time to develop fatherly feelings for his son because I suspected he wouldn’t try to form a bond if I weren’t pushing him.
Carlotta noticed my sour mood, but for once, I didn’t divulge last night’s make-out session to her. I felt ashamed of my actions, ashamed of my lack of restraint.
I didn’t leave the apartment all day. Poor Battista hadn’t left it since Nevio brought him here. I didn’t want to sneak him out in a cardboard box again, and I didn’t have an idea how else to do it. When I wasn’t busy entertaining Battista, I tried to read a book that would have been part of my nursing curriculum.
Nevio was on time for once, seven o’clock, with Indian takeout. Carlotta had dinner with us, which allowed me to relax as I was in no immediate danger of succumbing to my desires again. Battista was in his crib, gnawing on a teething ring. Nevio barely glanced at him during dinner as if he could pretend he wasn’t a father.
Carlotta left for her room after dinner to study for her courses tomorrow.
“So will you give me the rundown of what I need to do?” he asked with a nod toward his son.
“You could start by taking him out of his crib. You haven’t held him in a while.”
Nevio got up and rubbed his palms over his legs as if they were sweaty from nerves, which I couldn’t imagine, considering everything Nevio had experienced. A baby was hardly something to be scared of. Though, I had to admit that some of Battista’s crying fits had me break out in a sweat too.