Page 71 of Rock Bottom

“What? Now?”

“That boy wasn’t giving you the bedroom eyes for no reason. Go.” He pushed me toward the door. “And don’t come back out until one of you’s walking bow-legged!”

I stopped on the porch to frown back at Bowie, who waved me on. He was crude, rude, and easily one of the biggest pains in my ass at work, but he was still my brother. Sometimes, he came through despite all that.

I paused inside the door and listened, but there were no footsteps above. Whatever Dante was doing up there, it wasn’t packing. Part of me had been hoping Bowie was wrong. Not because I didn’t want Dante—I did—but because things would be easier if I didn’t. It would be easy to walk away, easy to forget, easy to move on and pretend none of this had ever happened.

I couldn’t see how things would work out long-term between us, but maybe they would. Maybe Bowie was right and there was a way I just hadn’t seen yet. Either way, he was right about that first part. The only way to know is to give it a chance.

I climbed the steps to the loft and paused at the top. Dante was lying on the bed, his arms spread out wide, staring at the ceiling.

“Dante?” The floor creaked as I moved away from the stairs.

He sighed and folded his hands on his stomach. “You know I want more than sex, right?”

I frowned. “Are you all right?”

He sat up, supporting himself on his elbows. “I mean, I do want that. I want to fuck you six ways to Sunday, kitten. But I want the other stuff, too.”

I swallowed. “What other stuff?”

Dante turned his head, a slight smile touching his lips. “Sleeping in on rainy mornings. Tea in the afternoon. Staying up late watching movies and eating junk food in our pajamas. Boring dinner parties and driveway kisses goodbye. I even want to argue with you.”

“Now I know you’ve lost the plot. Nobody likes arguing.” I crossed the room and sat down on the end of the bed next to him.

“I didn’t say I liked it. Just that I wanted to do it. With you. But you know, there is one good thing about arguing.” Dante looped an arm around my neck and swung one leg over me to sit in my lap, facing me.

I took full advantage of the opportunity to be a little cheeky and grabbed his ass with both hands. “Let me guess. Make up sex?”

He grinned. “See? You’re already reading my mind.”

“Hm. Are you sure? We haven’t even had regular sex yet. What if you’re disappointed?”

“First of all,” he said, tapping my nose, “there is nothing disappointing about you. Second, we have too had sex. What do you think we’ve been doing the last few days?”

I frowned, and he traced my lips with his finger. “That stuff doesn’t count…does it?”

“I hate to break it to you, kitten, but blowjobs and frotting totally count as sex. The hand job through the clothes is a little iffy. There’re definitely other, more fun ways to fuck that don’t include penetration, although that’s great too if you’re into it.” He leaned back slightly, his expression growing slightly serious. “Are you into it? Because it’s ok if you’re not.”

My face burned. But this was a conversation we needed to have. I was woefully inexperienced, especially compared to him. He must’ve known. It was obvious. “I don’t know,” I answered quietly. “Dante, when I said I hadn’t done anything in years, I meant anything and there’s a reason for that. My experience wasn’t good.”

He frowned and started pulling away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“No, no.” I grabbed his arms to keep him from climbing off of me. “It’s nothing like that. I wasn’t assaulted or anything. I was just an idiot, and so was he. We had no idea what we were doing, and I got hurt. Bad enough that I had to go see the school nurse who phoned my mother. She made me change schools…” I sighed and closed my eyes. “The way my mother looked at me when she came to pick me up… I’d take any of the beatings or the shouted lectures my father gave me over ever seeing that look on someone’s face again. She was so disappointed. After all that, I just thought it wasn’t worth going through again, especially if all I got in the end was more pain.”

“Listen to me, Christian.” Dante took my face in his hands. “It’s not supposed to be like that. It’s supposed to be fun, and to feel good. I’m sorry your experience wasn’t that way, but I’m glad you told me. I don’t want to ask you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I do.” I swallowed and squeezed his arm. “Want it, I mean. But…”

But I’m afraid.

Why couldn’t I just say that? I’d survived being a prisoner in some of the worst possible conditions, been through torture, seen the horrors of war firsthand and barely felt any fear. Yet I was terrified of this pain. Why? How could I be so brave in the face of all those things but a coward when it came to sex?

Dante combed his fingers gently through my hair. “Would you rather top? It’s not my preference to bottom, but if it helps…”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Really, it’s okay.”

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