He’s a welcome distraction. The more I think about it, when he’s with me, I rarely feel the panic I do when I’m alone. Maybe his calm ways keep me grounded and strong. Either way, I know I like it.

“I wish you could see yourself right now.”

I blink a few times, caught off guard, and drag my eyes to his. “I don’t think so.”

“Your skin is glistening in the light and is the palest shade of pink. You look stunning.”

I want to protest. I feel like shit, and most likely, I look like it too. But I just say, “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

He walks toward me, eyes glued to mine, and holds out his arms. I blink a few times and wonder if I’m seeing things. When I realize he’s waiting, I run to him. Tucking myself into his chest, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tightly.

My flesh breaks out in goose bumps as he strokes the back of my neck. “Can I get you anything?” he asks into my hair.

My arms loosen so I can glance up at him. Bruno just makes everything better. He makes me feel normal even though I know nothing is. “Make me forget for a few hours.”

The palms of his hands slide to the side of my neck before he cups my face in his hands. The eyes I’d been so scared of before change. They darken. “That I can do, beautiful.”

Just like the times before, he picks me up in his arms and carries me toward the bedroom, peppering my face with kisses as he walks. I don’t have any fears, no worries that I am about to sleep with a man everyone fears.

When he places me on the bed and straddles me, I feel nothing but peacefulness. Everything fades away except for his weight on my body and the feel of his lips on mine. His mouth touches me with tenderness, almost as if I’m breakable.

But I don’t want tenderness. I don’t want to remember how fragile I really am. I want him just as I imagine he is—rough.

“Bruno,” I moan between kisses. “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“I know what you need.” He places his mouth over mine, stopping me from talking anymore. I don’t want to talk. I want to feel.

Anything.

Something.

Everything.

He sits up to remove his shirt and I gawk and miss his warmth. Like a teenager, I feast on his physique and watch every muscle move as his body contorts and he pulls the shirt over his head. Holy fuckness. The man looked big before, but in this position, he looks massive. His broad shoulders seem like they go from edge to edge of my queen-size bed. I feel tiny in his shadow cascading over the bed as he blocks out the overhead light.

As I stare at his chest, completely in awe of his size and hardness, he knocks away the edges of my towel and I gasp. The cool air hits my breasts and my nipples instantly harden. I don’t move to cover myself, but I keep my eyes pinned to his pecs and my hands resting on his legs.

I always pictured him with tattoos underneath his clothes, but his skin’s flawless and untouched. Possibly, he has one on his back that I can’t see in this position, but it’s just another way he’s surprised me.

He lies down on me, his naked chest to mine, and kisses me deeper than he had before. I want him to remove his pants. I want to see what is underneath. Being with a man for the first time is like unwrapping a Christmas present. I want to know what my gift is, and I hope it isn’t like opening a box of socks. I can’t imagine he’s anything but perfection.

My hands find their way to his back, and I gently run my fingers up and down his spine, feeling his skin pebble underneath. He grunts in approval, which makes me kiss him harder and dig my nails in a bit deeper.

Just when I am about to whine about him being too gentle, he slides off to my side and his fingers begin tracing circles down my stomach. I close my eyes and let the sensation fill my every thought as they find their way to my smooth mound. He looks at me, and through my half-closed eyes, I can see his smile.

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