Page 42 of Twisted Knight

“Hemsworth.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “All Hollywood Chrises are interchangeable,” he muttered. “I’ll just get out of your way then. Are you good to leave at nine tomorrow for the hospital?”

“Do you want to join me?” Why the fuck was I asking that? Was it because of the longing I was seeing in his eyes? Or because of mine? I’d never had the house to myself with Domenico, and it made me giddy like a teen at her first make-out party.

Yes, but you’re not a teen anymore, India, and this guy is not your crush…

“Do you think you’ll have enough to share?” He pointed at my sixteen-ounce tub of ice cream.

“Obviously not!” I snorted. “You need to get your own.” I turned around to walk in the living room, discreetly removing the spot patch once my back was to him. It was too late to do anything for my appearance now that he saw me.

“So, what are we watching?” he asked, joining me on the sofa, and I was pleased by the fact he sat right beside me and not on the other end.

“Action movie… Lots of violence, blood and shirtless scenes.”

“Ah, yes, shirtless scenes are my favorites.”

I chuckled, some of the remaining tension leaving me. Despite what he was and what he represented, I couldn't help but feel a kinship with him. I felt safe.

We were about twenty minutes into the film when I leaned into him.

I felt him tense and immediately regretted it. I started to move away when he caught me around the shoulders.

“No, don’t move.” The strain in his voice made me frown.

I disengaged myself and looked at him. He looked… frazzled.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, looking away.

“Why are you—” I stopped as my eyes connected with his growing erection. “Oh!”

His obvious embarrassment dimmed some of my pleasure at having him react that way to me even in my most unkempt way.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s natural.”

He shook his head. “My body doesn’t usually react like that. You’re unsettling me on so many levels.”

His reaction to all of this really confused me. “You are not into sex?”

He sighed, resting his head on the back of the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. “No, I enjoy sex. It’s just—” He stopped talking and I hated that he was not looking at me while he spoke. I wanted to look into his eyes.

“It’s just that you usually react to men more than women?” I tried to guess where his conflict was coming from. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He grimaced and shook his head again. “I know there’s nothing wrong with that but no, I’m only attracted to women. Believe me.”

“Dom, look at me, please.”

He kept his head on the back of the sofa but turned toward me, throwing me a look full of uncertainty.

I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “What is it? Tell me.”

He closed his eyes for a second and emitted another sigh full of weariness. When he opened them, I saw a pit of sadness and turmoil that made my heart ache.

“I’m not gentle,” he started to say.

“You are gentle. I saw you with Cassie and Jude.”

He shook his head. “No, I mean in bed. I’m not gentle and even just saying that is an understatement.”

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