4. Embarrassed girl

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The door to the restroom swung open and Annabella walked in, her brown high heeled boots clicking on the black tiles. "I noticed that your gloves were dirty, so I got you new gloves as well, Carla. And here, some stuff to freshen up... Mascara and blush. You looked a little pale back there."

Dante still hadn't moved from behind me and I had to lean forward and then look past his broad shoulder to take the coat and gloves from Annabella. "Thank you so much. I will pay you back if you give me your bank account number."

Dante shifted behind me and the air in the room moved with him, sucking up the oxygen all around me. I was still reeling from his compliment. No man had ever told me I was beautiful with such grit and conviction meshed into his voice.

"There is no need to pay us back," he said calmly.

"But these look expensive–"

"If Dante says payment is not necessary, then he means it," Annabella said, watching Dante carefully.

He nodded once. "Thank you, Anna. We will be with you shortly."

I watched Annabella leave, questioning her relationship with Dante. I felt like his words were rarely questioned, and least of all by Annabella. She spoke volumes with her eyes, but she never questioned him with her words and I wondered why that was.

"Don't just stand there, Carla. Take your gloves and coat off," Dante said once the heavy black door had fallen shut behind Annabella.

I turned around to face him, ignoring the emotionally charged air between us. I couldn't breathe without breathing in his essence and I didn't like that. The man was a boar, and frankly, quite unlikeable too.

He was bossy, grumpy, and way too serious for my liking. Compliments or no compliments, I was not about to forget his prejudice against American women. My best friend was an American and I was certain she wouldn't appreciate being called a drunk when she was sober than angel Gabriel on his holiest day.

"Why are you in here with me? You think this is normal following me in here like this?" I demanded in my most annoyed voice.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "One, I didn't follow you, I led you here. Two, I don't trust you. I don't trust a lot of people, but that's not why we're here. I would like to check your head for swelling and bleeding." He spoke curtly, almost as if I wasn't worth his time.

"Oh, right." I bit my lip and looked down at my feet, embarrassed. If only I could focus on the task at hand without succumbing to wayward thoughts about a stranger I met less than an hour ago.

Behind me, Dante opened a locked cabinet and pulled out a see-through plastic package containing first aid stuff, and placed it on the counter next to me.

While he opened the package, I proceeded to take my dirty grey gloves off, followed by my shall and dark blue coat. Once he had everything he needed spread out on the sink, he took his coat off as well, revealing a fitted black long-sleeved turtleneck sweater. Beneath it all, his muscular body shaped itself to the sweater and the black jeans that hugged his long legs.

I unintentionally bit my lip when he pulled back the sleeves of the sweater to reveal tanned forearms. The clothes he had on were rather casual and monotone in color, but on him, they looked like he was going into combat. The thick pelt of jet black wavy hair sitting on top of his head was a nice finishing touch.

"Do I have permission to touch you, Carla?" he asked while tucking his sleeves up higher.

God, why did my name have to sound so fucking sexy coming out of his mouth? It was the way he rolled the r with his tongue and the way he seemed to see me whenever he used my name. I had that same unshakable feeling of butterflies stirring in my stomach when he complimented my beauty.

"Yes, Dante, you have permission to check my head for bumps and bruises." Nothing else. The mere thought of him touching me anywhere else had me burning up with a fever.

I internally rolled my eyes at the heat and intensity rolling off of him in waves as he approached me again. No wonder I was so freaking hot in his presence when it was below zero outside. The man was a walking furnace.

Or maybe, I was the furnace, burning not with gasoline but desire.

This was outrageous. Burning with desire? Me? Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.

"That's all? Nothing else?" He chuckled and it surprised me. He just didn't seem like the chuckling type. "Are you sure there is nothing else you would like me to check? Because I would love to check that attitude of yours among other things."

"You haven't seen attitude yet, sir. Now get to work." I took my 4b hair down from the high bun it was in, bracing myself against the counter in anticipation of his touch. I knew he was about to fuck my whole system up with just one touch. I didn't need more than that to get my wires crossed.

"I could get used to you calling me Sir," he said, his hand going up to the back of my head. "Where is it tender?"

Everywhere, and in particular, between my legs, my inner voice mused quietly.

"Here." I took his hand and lifted it to a spot on the upper right of my head. His fingers splayed out in my hair and I swallowed a moan. I met his stony eyes in the mirror to check if he noticed how affected I was by him touching me like this. His face was a blank canvas that revealed nothing. "And I'm only calling you Sir to be polite."

"Polite is good," he said, parting my hair with a focus I hadn't seen from him before. "But I like my women a little wild and disobedient and not so polite. Just so I can bring her back in line."

"Thank god, I am not one of your women. So please, don't get carried away."

"That's more like it, Carla." He chuckled again. "I can work with that."

I ignored him and the way his words ignited a fire inside of me that was wild and new. I hated the way my stomach knotted in anticipation as adrenaline ran amock in my veins. Physical attraction was one thing, but what I was feeling right now went beyond that. It was shamefully amorous and libidinous.

"What's the verdict? Do I need to go to the hospital?" I asked clippingly.

"No hospital. It's a little swollen, but that will go down in time." His voice lowered to a husky whisper. "Would you like to know what else is swollen?"

My breath hitched in my throat. "Your ego?"

There was no way in hell I was going to think about his dick being swollen. Maybe hard was a better word to describe a male's member when it got fully engorged with blood. No way. I would not think about that.

And that was exactly what I did. Why were our minds so fickle?

Dante leaned in behind me and oh my goodness, was that his stiff erection I felt pressing up against my ass? "Not my ego, Carla. Just my fucking knee that you busted with your bike. It's going to need some tending to."

"Poor baby, let me see. You never hurt your knee before? Maybe I can help you focus on another kind of pain."

I disregarded the urgent need I felt to grind my ass on his hardness like I'd never ground on anything before. Instead, I turned around slowly until I met his hazel gaze, and I jerked my knee up, aiming squarely at his manhood.

That should teach him a lesson about pressing his hard dick against a stranger's butt. Even if she rather liked the sensation it had aroused between her thighs.



°°°

I heard that a kick to the groin hurts like a muthafucker.

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