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As he strides toward the back of the plane, I bury my face in his neck, my mind whirling. Am I doing this for him—to let him feel he has the ability to make me feel better? Or am I doing this for myself—surrendering to the moment, and letting him take care of me?
It’s been a long time since someone took care of me. Isabel still fussed over me, right until the end, but it was mostly out of her pent-up anxiety. I was responsible for putting a roof over our heads and food on the table—even while Jorge was alive. The hard decisions—and even the easy ones—were mine to make.
Does it make me weak to want the comfort of Antonio’s body, to crave his warm skin against mine? Or is it just human? Would it be so bad if I handed him control of my body—of my mind—and let him make the decisions? Not forever, but for a few hours.
But if I relinquish all control, will he break me? Will that be my punishment for having sex while Valentina is in danger?
“Stop overthinking. There’s nothing about what we’re doing that’s wrong, or immoral. None of it makes you a bad mother or a bad friend. I could take the responsibility from you—force you to comply. I’ve done that before, but I won’t. Not today,” he adds, under his breath.
My body shifts in his arms as he opens the door and kicks it shut behind us. He doesn’t toss me on the bed, but sets me on my feet, cradling my face in his hands. “Trust me to give you what you need.” It’s not a question, but a command.
“How did you know?”
He tips his head to the side, and I see the confusion in his eyes.
“How did you know that I feel guilty about being here with you—while...”
He kisses me gently. He’s careful and restrained, but I feel the hunger throbbing inside him. “You’re a good person, Daniela, with a good heart and a highly calibrated moral compass—too well-calibrated. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body. It wasn’t difficult to figure out.”
He lowers his mouth, and I’m not sure how much time passes before our tongues are tangling and my body is pressed against his, seekinganythingandeverythinghe’s willing to give.
“The door,” I gasp. “Lock the door.”
Antonio shakes his head. “I’m not locking the door. No one will enter without knocking. If you want it locked, you’ll have to do it yourself.”
It hits me like a giant swell, leaving me drenched and confused. He wants me to know I’m free to leave. I control the exit. I’m not a prisoner to his whims. Some part of me is taken off guard. This isn’t the man I’ve come to know.Is it?
But despite being off-kilter, a part of me—a big part—is beyond grateful that he cares enough about my state of mind to alter his behavior.
“Thank you.”
He raises a single eyebrow. “For what?”
“For wanting me to feel safe.”
“Don’t thank me, Daniela. I’m no angel. I’m going to push you—hard. I’m going to take you farther than you think you can go. And you’re going to let me.” His voice is hypnotic, but it’s laced with danger. “Can you do that?”
I lift one shoulder, because I’m not sure. He’s pushed me so much since I arrived in Porto. Especially with regard to sex. I can’t imagine what more he wants from me.
“Have you ever had a safeword?”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and shake my head.
“I’m going to give you one. It’s how you’ll stop me if your emotions are taking you somewhere that’s too scary.”
“I thought safewords were to prevent physical harm?”
The edge of his mouth curls. “They can be. But I’m going to watch you carefully, and that shouldn’t be an issue. You’ve revisited some awful moments today, and we haven’t been lovers for all that long. It’s easy to know when a body is at the breaking point, but the psyche is something else entirely. That’s what the safeword is for. Red,” he says clearly, enunciating each letter. “That’s what you’ll say if it gets to be too much.”
Antonio Huntsman controlled by a three-letter word. That’s difficult to believe. “If I say it, you’ll stop whatever you’re doing?” I don’t hide the skepticism.
“Immediately.” He doesn’t hesitate. “But I don’t want you to use it unless you need to. I want you to let me push your boundaries, just beyond what you think you can handle. Do you understand what I’m asking of you?”
He’s checking with me. Walking me through an unfamiliar process.
“Yes.” The word gets caught in my throat before it lands between us.
“I’m not going to stop because you beg, or scream, or even if you cry. You’ll need to use the safeword. Otherwise, I’m not going to stop until I shatter you.” He gently sweeps an errant hair off my face. “That’s what you need,Princesa.”
