“You must be fucking mental.” Rebecca paces around my living room. I keep waiting for her to start ripping out her hair.

“I’m not,” I tell her and pick at my chipping nail polish, trying not to watch her because I may burst into laughter.

“Cal.” She comes to a stop in front of me and taps her foot. “He’s dangerous,” she insists when she crosses her arms.

I roll my eyes and sigh. “You brought him here. You made him part of this, Bec. Plus, the other night you wanted me to fuck him.”

She fists her long blond hair and gets a wild look on her face. “I didn’t expect him to be your boyfriend. You can’t possibly like him.”

My mouth falls open and I gawk at her. “Why?” Rebecca has always been the overly cautious one in our friendship, but she started this shit.

She throws her arms out and waves them in the air like a raving lunatic. “Um, Bruno ‘The Butcher.’ Ring any bells?”

“They’re lies, Bec.”

She starts to pace again, back and forth across the room, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. “No, they aren’t. I know you’re going through some shit right now, but you can’t deny who he is.”

“You didn’t have a problem leaving me here with him last night,” I shoot back at her with a shitty smile.

“He made me.”

“He didn’t make you do anything. You abandoned me and left me alone with him.”

“Do you think I would ever abandon you?”

“You did.”

“Listen.” She sits down next to me and holds my hands. “I only left because he said you needed to be alone and that he would look after you. You know how he is. Everyone is scared of him, Cal, even me. What was I supposed to do? Toss him out?”

“If he’s so scary, why did you go to him in the first place?”

“When you didn’t answer the door, I panicked. He’s the first person that popped in my mind who would be willing to break the law.”

I laugh and stand up, letting her hands fall in her lap. “You talk out of your ass.”

Her head jerks back with my words. “I do not.”

“You don’t want me near him because he’s dangerous, yet you bring him to my apartment to save me.”

“Yes.”

I place my hands on my hips and glare at her. “You’re the crazy one here, not me.”

“Just stay away from him.”

“Sure, Mom.”

She jumps up and comes toward me. “He’s not a man to fool around with. Bruno isn’t the type to fuck around.”

My hand flies to my cheek, slapping myself instead of her. “I appreciate your concern, Bec, but you don’t know Bruno.”

“Neither do you.” She glares. She may be prone to overreact, but rarely does she ever get mad at me.

“I know enough about him. You didn’t see the way he treated me.”

“There are a million guys out there who would do the same. I’d do the same. Don’t let him in here again,” she demands and stomps her foot, laying down the law.

“Okay. I promise,” I tell her, crossing my fingers behind my back because I’d let him in again. He didn’t make me bonkers the way she seems to be at the moment.

“Good. I’ve heard stories about him that would make you piss yourself.”

“You know what’s scarier than Bruno?” I ask, wanting to change the subject and get to the real issue at hand.

“What?”

“Cancer.”

When you’re looking down the barrel of a shotgun and know that hope is lost, it’s hard to be scared by the little things. Bruno may not be little, but he is something I can see, touch, and taste. Cancer is biding its time silently, waiting to take me out.

“I know,” she whispers before she starts to cry. “I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend.”

See, even Rebecca has me killed off in her head. Being around her doesn’t help in the positivity department, that’s for sure.

This is why I prefer the company of Bruno to my bestie. She is too emotional. I need something solid—someone tough, without remorse, and not worried about themselves. I am too worried about my life to have to comfort her about my problem.

“I’m tired, Bec. Can you let me get some rest?” I fake yawn and hope she gets the hint.

She nods and wraps her arms around me lovingly. “No more ignoring me. Call me later and I’ll come back over.” I nod and rub her back to comfort her, but I don’t mean it.

She is the last person I needed tonight. I needed Bruno. I wanted him here. Danger doesn’t scare me. My life is already in danger from an enemy within. Bruno is nothing compared to cancer.

---

I don’t call him. When she leaves, I climb in the bathtub and tune everything out. I can’t shut out the fear, but I can think without hearing everyone’s voices in my head.

Bruno is right. I need to get pissed. I don’t back down from a fight. This is like every other thing I’ve had to claw my way to get, but this will be the most important battle of my life.

This morning I found the appointment card on my counter. I have a meeting with the oncology team at University Hospital to decide the right course of treatment to give me the best chance of long-term survival.

I stick my toe under the faucet and let the rivulets of water trickle down my foot. I want to live. I want my life. I want everything I had before and more.

A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. Bruno’s voice echoes through the apartment. “Callie!” he yells when his knock turns into rapid pounding. “Callie.”

Grabbing a towel from the counter, I climb to my feet and wrap it around me. Not bothering to dry off, I head straight for the door before he busts it down. Before I make it within ten feet of the door, the lock starts to click and the door handle turns. His eyes grow wide, probably matching my own, when he walks inside.

“Did you just pick my lock?” I ask and adjust my towel, trying to wrap it tighter but giving him a little peep show in the process.

For the love of God.

His eyes dip to where my towel has just opened before they return to mine with a twinkle. “I did. I came prepared this time.”

“Didn’t you break it the other day?”

“Yeah.” He nods and kicks the door closed. “I had a friend come by and repair it while you slept.”

I hadn’t heard a thing. I must’ve been out of it more than I thought. Usually, I hear everything, but that night, the world could’ve ended and I would have slept through it.

“Thanks.” I should’ve had more questions, but it doesn’t matter now. “What are you doing here?”

He drags his hand through his hair, messing it up, and looks around the room. “I figured we could spend some time together. I needed to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

A small smile creeps across his face as his eyes travel the length of my body. “I can see that.”

I giggle and wonder how I look through his eyes. My hair is dripping on the floor in a puddle near my feet as I stand here stark naked, wrapped in a towel. “Are you flirting with me?”

“What if I am?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow and giving me an even bigger smile.

“I’m okay with it.”

He steps closer and I hold my breath. “Just okay?”

He isn’t in his typical all-black wardrobe, and he looks like an entirely different person as a result. He has on black track pants with white stripes running down the sides, paired with a white tank top. His muscles bulge underneath, straining to break free from the material and craving attention.

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.

“What?” I ask and try not to squirm under his touch.

His eyes follow the same path his hands just did and stop on my bareness. “Nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumble and feel my cheeks flush.

I try to move my hands to cover myself. “Don’t,” he demands and pushes my hands away.

I see the fire in his eyes and know exactly what he wants. Me. I no longer feel the need to hide my body, and I place my hands on the bed next to me, giving him a full view of my body. I watch his face, particularly his lips, while he scans my body. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he does. I want to snatch it between my teeth and taste him again.

Before I can do just that, he leans forward and closes his mouth over my nipple. My back arches, relishing the heat only his mouth can give and wanting more.

It doesn’t take much. With a man like Bruno and the way he makes me feel, I don’t need a lot of foreplay. His hand slides between my legs and finds my wetness. Another time and place and I may have been embarrassed, but right now, I could not care less. Just being near him is enough to turn me on. It doesn’t help that it has been a long time since I’ve been with someone sexually.

My fingers dig into his hair before he pushes his finger inside me. “Jesus,” he murmurs with my nipple between his teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted me too, Cal?”

It’s kind of funny and a little embarrassing, but my body doesn’t lie. I would laugh except his finger is doing wicked shit to me.

I clear my mind and focus on his mouth and fingers as they touch my body, bringing me more pleasure than I ever imagined. My toes curl with each thrust of his fingers, and my body follows his when he pulls them out. I chase the orgasm I want so badly, but I can’t get there. My thighs burn and my calves begin to seize, but still nothing, no matter how hard I try. Every time I get close enough I can almost taste it, he changes pace and throws me off.

“Fuck,” I hiss and collapse.

He raises his head and curls his fingers inside me. “Stop thinking so much and I’ll let you come.”

It takes everything I have not to smack him. The entire time I’ve been chasing it, he’s been denying me. I sigh before clenching my jaw and trying to loosen my body, giving him control.

His fingers start to move again, and I close my eyes and feel every spot he strokes. Slowly pulling out before quickly pushing back inside me. His thumb flicks my clit every time, sending tiny shockwaves through my system and bringing me back to the edge quickly.

The orgasm builds—my toes curl and my muscles seize. My breathing becomes labored, my skin glows with a sheen of sweat, and my entire being begins to shake. I’m almost there—my eyes begin to roll back on their own and then he stops. Just fucking stops.

My eyes fly open and I’m about to scream when the bed dips and he’s on his feet in one movement, disposing of his pants. Every word sitting on my tongue vanishes. Holy mother of all that is sacred. Bruno’s hung like a goddamn horse. Wait, no, like a stallion.

“When you come,” he tells me, kicking his pants behind him before climbing on the bed, “it’ll be on my cock.”

Well, okay. Who am I to argue with that statement? “I don’t think—” I gesture and point at his well-proportioned and nicely decorated dick “—that will fit.”

“You just have to relax, beautiful.” He settles between my legs, stroking his cock roughly. “I’m going to make you feel shit you never thought possible.”

I believe him too. I’ve never met a penis I didn’t like. I’m one of the lucky girls. You know, the one every girl who can’t come from sex alone hates. Yep, that’s me. I’ve never had a problem coming. Bruno has enough girth and the perfect length to hit every spot inside of me.

“Do you know how to use it, though?” I ask, wanting to tease him about his unusually sized cock.

“You tell me.” He rubs the tip against my opening.

“Condom,” I choke out, the sensation overwhelming. I’m scared he’s going rip me in two more than any fear of a disease. He can’t give me anything worse than I already have, but I know he’s probably banged half the city’s female population. “Do you want to be a daddy?”

“No, but I can’t believe you’d think I’d fuck you without one.” He shakes his head and frowns.

“Where is it?” I look around but don’t see one, and I sure as hell didn’t see him slide it over his monster.

“It’s in my hand, Cal. I just wanted to feel your warmth before I caged the beast.”

I bite my lip and hold in my laughter. The beast. It’s the perfect nickname for him—and his dick too. After a few quick strokes through my wetness, he sits back on his heels and rips open the package before sliding it on.

I’m mesmerized and unable to look anywhere except right at his dick. Bruno makes it the most erotic thing I have ever seen. The way he holds the shaft in his hand and works the latex over the tip is sexy as a motherfucker.

When he finishes putting it on, he wiggles his dick in his hands and I know he’s caught me staring. I smile as he comes toward me with it, and I try to back away to escape the monster. Before I can get even a few inches away, he catches me by the calves and pulls me toward him. I have no recourse but to take what I asked for and what he plans to give me. The mere thought of what he can do to me has my mouth watering and my insides fluttering with anticipation.

He leans forward, resting his weight on one arm, and I can’t help but stare in awe. I do that a lot with him. I gawk at his arm when his muscles ripple with the weight of him, but they hold firm and support his body. With his free hand, he runs it along my wetness and captures as much of it as possible before starting to push his cock inside.

I cry out, partly because of discomfort but mostly from pleasure, and I’m ready to tell him to stop when his lips find mine and distract me. He muffles my moans with his tongue, and I pull his face to me and bury my hands in his hair once again.

The way his dick stretches me, I wonder if I tore, but when he pulls out and pushes back inside without as much resistance, the pain and fear vanish.

I wish I had a fucking video camera in my ceiling to capture the moment because it’s just that good. I want to see how his hips move as he thrusts into me. The way his ass clenches with each pump.

God, it has to be a thing of beauty.

His arm curls under the back of my knee, and he brings it close to my chest without any resistance from me. I can feel him slide in deeper and my back arches to meet his depth. When he pulls out, he twists slightly, sending his dick upward and right into my G-spot. I see stars and my breath hitches. My head spins and the air vanishes from my lungs with each pass of the monster against my most sensitive area.

Everything inside me curls, along with my toes. My body shakes, impaled by him and underneath him, completely at his mercy. My body chases his with each movement, never wanting it to end.

He grunts, pounding into me, and I grasp the sheets to get a grip on something, anything. Each thrust of his dick is sharp and satisfying. The bed squeaks and my head comes closer and closer to the headboard with every push. If I survive his fucking, I’ll probably pass out from head trauma, but at least it will be a happy memory.

I can’t stop it. The orgasm crawls up my spine, and everything inside me seizes. The way he looks at me, the happiness on his face is too much to bear, and I close my eyes to avoid his gaze. Digging my head into the pillow, I ride out the most amazing orgasm of my life.

He doesn’t stop or back down as I cry out, gripped by ecstasy. That isn’t Bruno’s style. He picks up the pace and thrusts deeper to the point I can’t breathe and my cries of passion become silent. I bear down, unable to control my body, and feel every motion as I try to fill my lungs with air but fail.

Even as I start to come down from the aftershocks, he continues, unrelenting in his pursuit. Within seconds, another orgasm builds and I fear this one might ruin me forever. Never has a man given me more than one without some rest between, but in true Bruno fashion, he can’t be like anyone else. It isn’t his style.

My body acts on its own as the second and more intense orgasm rips through me. Just as I’m about to reach the top, Bruno follows, grunting the most guttural and feral noise I’ve ever heard.

But I don’t respond, I am too lost. Lost in the feeling of him inside me, almost crushing me with his weight while he comes, and enjoying every minute.

He lies with his entire weight on top of me before he pushes himself up and hovers over me. His arms strain and every vein along his skin pops to life as if reaching for me.

The look in his eyes is too much for me to take. I try to look at him, but I can’t. Really, I try, but something happens that I can no longer deny. I realize I like him. Like, really like him.

Unable to take the warmth in his eyes, I lose it. Tears spill down my cheeks and I can’t stop them. My lips tremble and my eyes burn with each falling tear. I don’t just cry; sobs wrench from my throat. Underneath him, I bawl like I did when I beat on his chest.

Why do I have to realize I like him now? Why, when I’m facing my death, do I figure it out? It isn’t fair.

I know I have cancer. I also know Bruno isn’t the man everyone thinks he is and I always assumed him to be. He’s something more, someone bigger and kinder than I ever thought possible.

More importantly, he makes me forget for a little while that I am about to have the fight of my life—and for my life. He alone makes me want to live. I want to survive.

I know at that moment that I want to be Bruno’s. If I want to make it a reality, I have to do everything in my power to beat a disease I feel powerless against.

He holds me while I cry, not bothering to talk me down. Through the tears, I can see the look of confusion and concern on his face, but I can’t explain myself.

He repeats, “Shh. It’ll be okay.” His words mean to console me, but they make me cry harder.

Nothing will be okay again.

When I don’t have any more tears left, I pass out against his chest. The warmth of his body and the sound of his heart beating lulls me to sleep with thoughts of how I don’t want to say good-bye.

---

I’m too scared to look at him when I open my eyes. My face is puffy from the pity party I had after he gave me the best fuck of my life. You’re a mess, Cal.

He probably thinks I’m insane, and maybe I am. Who does that? Who has two amazing orgasms and then cries like a baby?

Even though I’m staring at the ceiling, I know he’s staring at me, and I can’t take the awkward silence on top of my earlier meltdown. “I’m sorry,” I tell him and close my eyes out of embarrassment.

He reaches out and tenderly touches my cheek. “Don’t be.”

I still can’t look at him and focus on the ceiling fan slowly turning above us. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Happens all the time,” he quips.

I look at him with my eyebrows drawn together and grimace. I’m sure, out of the hundreds of girls he’s been with, someone has to be nuttier than me. “It does?”

He nods, smiling sweetly and stroking my cheek. “Yeah. Most women cry after I’ve fucked them within an inch of their lives.”

“They do?” My mouth falls open and my eyes widen in horror.

“No, Callie. They don’t.”

I reach across and swat his arm with my hand for fucking with my mind. “You’re an asshole.”

The bed shakes as he laughs at my expense, getting a kick out of yanking my chain. “But it’s okay. I get it. You’re dealing with a lot of shit right now.”

I am dealing with more shit than I want to explain. I can’t tell him that part of my tears are about him. Bruno is Bruno. Even though I know he has a sweet side, I also know he is an infamous manwhore. Everyone knows it. I know it too. He is a flavor-of-the-day kind of guy.

He only feels sorry for me because I have cancer. Maybe I remind him of his sister and the struggle he went through with her. I need to remember that my battle is with my disease and not with trying to win him over.