“I can walk without you dragging me behind you.”
He needed to get out of these filthy clothes and scrub himself down. Dante didn’t mind sweating, but he had no desire to linger in that state longer than strictly necessary. He wouldn’t be able to focus properly until he got cleaned up.
“Dante!”
He moved down the hall to the single bedroom and through it into the massive bathroom. The walk-in shower looked absolutely heavenly. He pushed Rose in that direction, already intent on unbuttoning his shirt before she took the first step. “Turn on the water and strip.”
“What is this? Some kind of peep show?” She moved into the shower, eyes going wide as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sweaty and tired, Rosa. Do not test me. Turn on the water.”
She muttered under her breath in Russian, but she turned on the water. There were half a dozen showerheads at varying heights, giving it the feel of a human car wash, but Dante didn’t give a fuck how ridiculous it seemed. It would do the trick. He shrugged out of his shirt and undid the front of his pants. “Take off your clothes.”
“I hate you.” But she unbuttoned the shirt with quick movements and let it drop to the floor. He waited, and with another curse, she shucked off her panties and kicked them away.
He studied her body as she stepped into the shower and moved to the trio of shower heads farthest from him. He’d had his mouth and hands all over her many times in the months they dated, and he’d spent the past three months rewriting those encounters to how they would have gone if he hadn’t been playing that asshole Jackson Smith. She looked different. He narrowed his eyes. She still had that bitable ass, but… “You lost weight,” he accused.
“It’s called stress. You’d be familiar if you weren’t a fucking asshole who didn’t care about anyone else.” She ducked beneath the spray.
Dante paused to eject the clip from his gun and toss it in a drawer before he set the gun itself on the counter. He’d secure them properly later, but he didn’t need her trying to shoot him and make a run for it. Even if she managed to get to the gun, she wouldn’t be able to load it before he got to her.
He finished stripping and stepped into the shower. The second the hot water hit his skin, he sighed in relief. Yeah, this was exactly what he needed. He grabbed the soap and scrubbed himself down quickly, erasing the gritty feeling of sweat drying against his skin. It only took a few minutes, but he could feel Rose’s attention on him the whole time. Studying for weakness? Waiting for an opportunity to attack?
Neither, apparently.
He turned to face her, letting the water pour over him, only to find her staring at his cock. The feeling of her gaze on him had his body responding, his cock hardening even as she watched. “See something you like?”
“I see something mediocre.”
“Rosa.” He injected enough censure into his tone to make her glare. “Let’s not retread this ground.”
She opened her mouth but seemed to reconsider what she’d been about to say. Finally, she shrugged. “You’ve got to be the most arrogant motherfucker I’ve ever met.”
“How so?”
“You’re in the shower with a woman who wants to do violence to you—a woman whose scars you wear.” She flicked her fingers at his shoulder and side, both sporting fresh scars from the bullet wounds. “And yet you’re naked and unconcerned. That’s arrogant by any definition of the word.”
He bit back a grin, curious to see what she’d do if he prodded her. The fact he truly didn’t know delighted him. “I’m bigger and stronger. What could you possibly do?”
“Oh, Dante.” Her lips quirked, and she moved toward him slowly. Her voice went low and seductive. “I can do so much.”
He held perfectly still and let her approach. Dante had been half-mast more or less consistently since arriving at the plane, but the moment Rose walked into the shower, his cock was so hard, he had a difficult time thinking past it.
She stopped a bare inch away and trailed her fingers over his length. His breath caught in his chest. Was it really going to be this easy? No. Surely not. But he couldn’t think properly with her touching him. “Rosa.” His voice came our raspy.
“Da.” The only warning he got was a slight tensing in her shoulders, and then she grabbed his balls in a viselike grip. His back hit the tiled wall, and she followed him, pressing her body to his even as she tightened her fingers. “Is something wrong, baby? Don’t tell me you don’t like to play rough.”
Fury surged, lust surging alongside it. He grabbed her wrist. Too hard, but it felt like she was going to rip his balls clean off his body. He hit her pressure points, forcing her hand open. It wasn’t enough, though. Not with pain beating through him with every thump of his heart. Dante used his hold to spin her around, turning in the same move to pin her against the wall, him at her back. She cursed and tried to buck, but he got a hand around her throat, holding her away from the tile so she wouldn’t bust her face open. “That’s enough.”
“Let me go.”
“No, Rosa.” He pressed against her back, letting the feeling of her slippery skin against his soothe him. “Turnabout is fair play.”
“What?”
He released her wrist and shoved his hand between her thighs to cup her pussy. He wanted nothing more than to sink two fingers into her silken heat, but Dante managed to restrain himself…mostly. He dragged his middle finger up her slit, rubbing the length against her clit. “Tell me yes, Rosa.”
Her only answer was her harsh breathing and the slightest widening of her thighs.
“Not good enough.” He made himself still his hand. A battle he quickly became in danger of losing as her desire drenched his fingers. “Tell me yes,” he repeated. “Tell me you want this. Tell me to make you come.”
She pressed her hands to the tile wall and let herself lean forward a little, resting her throat more firmly against his palm. “I won’t tell you yes, Dante. Don’t ask me to.”
He tried to think through the desire thrumming through his blood, to parse out her words. What she had said. What she hadn’t. Finally, he said, “Then tell me no, Rosa. Tell me no and I’ll stop.”
He held perfectly still as he counted off the seconds internally. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty. At sixty, she still hadn’t said a single fucking word. He smiled against her temple. You’re mine, Rosa. You know it, and I know it. “Very well.”
Chapter 8
Rose should tell him no. That’s what Dante asked for. That’s what the smart thing to do was. She hadn’t exactly had a plan when she’d hurt him, other than wanting to punish him for putting her in this position. Now, though? She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t turned on by the rough handling. She was practically panting against his hold on her throat, and no doubt he could feel evidence of her lust where his fingers gripped her pussy.
She should tell him no…
But she didn’t.
More, she didn’t want to.
Dante moved slowly. Testing her. He resumed his slow stroking, his middle finger dragging up her center and rubbing against her clit in a way that had her fighting back a moan. God, she’d missed him. She hated herself for it, but it was the truth. Even if, as Jackson, he’d never given her the rough fucking part of her craved, he had given her this. She’d forced herself to forget what it felt like to have the entirety of this man’s attention focused on her pleasure.