Page 41 of Dance with the Devil

That’s assuming that Cross feels the same. I won’t know unless I give him the chance to decide on his own. I already have. I’m not so sore and achy that I don’t want to try this again—on our terms instead of Winter’s.

His frown disappears. I swear, there’s the tiniest bit of hope replacing it as he says, “You want me to hold you.”

Here goes nothing, Gen.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Cross wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “What did you say?”

I refuse to even acknowledge the camera. Instead, I pat the cot again. “I love you,” I say simply. This might possibly be the worst time for that sort of confession, but if those three little words are enough to chase away Cross’s idea that he did something to me that I would’ve enthusiastically consent to under different circumstances, I’ll be honest with him.

And, sure, there’s being honest and then there’s beinghonest, but no matter what happens after tonight, I’ll be content to remember that, at the very least, my first time was with the man I loved—and now he knows it.

He doesn’t respond the same. I try not to let that hurt. I’m not as manipulative as Winter, or even my brother. I’m just Gen, and when I tell someone I love them, I don’t have ulterior motives. I love with my whole heart, and Cross had made his mark on it long before Johnny Winter came into the picture.

He doesn’t tell me he loves me, not with words, but it was in the way he would’ve stood there and let them blow off his hand to protect me. In how he agreed to this because my ballet career was on the line.

There isn’t anything Cross da Silva won’t do to keep me from being hurt, and as soon as I realize that, it doesn’t hurt that he can’t say the words. Even if it’s not the same was I love him, he cares for me, and I think that’s exactly what has him prowling his way toward the cot before easing his body weight down next to me.

He’s on his side, one hand reaching out to caress my cheek.

I stare back at him. His bruise is starting to heal. What was purple the morning after Mickey kicked him in the face is a more mottled shade, greens and yellows making up the edges of it. If you ask me, though, it makes him even more beautiful to me. That mark shows me how far he’ll go for me.

I inch closer until his cock is nestled near my lower belly. “Do you want to fuck me, Cross?”

His eyes search my face, but he doesn’t answer.

I reach between us, giving him a quick stroke. He closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he clenches his jaw.

“Please, Cross,” I say again, using both his chosen name and the word ‘please’ since it seems to affect him more than any other. “I’m not forcing you just like you didn’t force me. I’m justasking you a simple question. Say ‘no’ and we go to sleep, maybe forget tonight happened.” Until Winter uses that video against us… “Say ‘yes’ and?—”

“Yes,” he breathes out, so warm on my face, I fight back a shiver. “I want to. Don’t ever doubt that… but we shouldn’t.”

Notcan’t. Shouldn’t.

I stroke him again. Instead of pulling away, he bucks against my palm.

Look at you, Gen. First time handling a dick and you’re not doing too shabby.

I smile at him. “I think we should.”

He groans. “Butterfly… you don’t know what you’re saying.”

That’s where he’s wrong. I know exactly what I’m saying.

“When you were treating me like I was precious… when you were making sure I was okay… I could forget he was there. I knew he was, but until he spoke up again when you were done, it was just the two of us.”

He nuzzles my neck, hiding his face. “I’m sorry?—”

My stomach goes tight, and I wish it was from the renewed arousal I experienced when I saw my virgin blood on his cock. “Don’t apologize. Please. That makes me feel like we did something wrong.”

“I forced you to do it,” he says, his voice a mumble.

“Cross, no. Listen to me.Heforcedusto do it. That was his choice. This?” I run my fingers up and down his cock again. “This is mine. Now it’s our turn. If you don’t want to do this with me, I understand. I’m certainly not going to force you to do anything. But if you want to… we can own the moment. Make it ours. Something special. Something that belongs to only us.”

Cross curses under his breath, and I know that if I keep stroking, he’s going to come all over my fingers. Not that I’m not interested in seeing that happen—I want to experienceeverything with this man—but I was serious when I said I want to make this ours.

But he’s distracted now as he glares up at the ceiling. “Those fucking cameras.”

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