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He walks to the window, placing the hand that still has the handcuffs dangling from his wrist to the glass. When I notice more tremors coming from his body, I shoot forward, not caring that the upper half of my body is still naked.
Touching his back seems to calm his shudders, but only slightly, so I wedge myself between him and the glass, wrapping my arms around his body and holding him tight, trying to offer what comfort I can.
What the hell happened? Why did he lose his shit like that?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—” I try to apologize, but I’m cut off.
“Fuck.” His other hand comes up behind me, cupping the back of my head and pulling me even tighter against him. “I’m...” He inhales, not finishing. “Shit,” he huffs out finally.
I don’t know whether to keep my mouth shut and wait for him to tell me or prod him again. Eventually, my need to know wins out.
“D,” I start to press him, but that’s all I have to say for him to open up.
“I thought I was over this shit. Past it. Goddammit,” he draws out in frustration.
“Past what?”
“My hang up with restraints.” Another shudder rolls through him when he breathes, taking air into his lungs.
I want to help him. I want to make it right, fix it, but I don’t know how and that causes an ache in the center of my chest so great it feels like I might break.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” I try again, but he cuts me off once again.
“It’s not you, Bri. I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t mean to flip my shit on you.” He pulls back, looking down at me with the most haunted expression I’ve ever seen. His eyes slowly close, tightening, as does his jaw. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He must take my worry and the pain I feel for him as being scared.
“I’m not scared of you, D. You’ve never done anything that’s made me feel frightened.”
His eyes open, giving me that hard look he does sometimes when he’s trying to read between the lines as if he’s trying to figure out if there is more to what I’m telling him.
We’re a lot alike in that sense.
His hand, the one that still has my cuffs dangling from his wrist, skims up my front, stopping just below my throat. Drago presses gently on me, making my back touch the cool glass window, holding me in place. His head dips and he kisses me. First on my cheek, then on my jaw, moving to my chin and then to the other side of my face, repeating the feather-like kisses before stopping on my lips.
When he’s done, I open my eyes to find him looking at me. He’s calmer; his breathing normal.
“Babe?” I coax, needing to know why this happened.
“I’ll tell you,” he nods. “I just can’t tell you today.”
He pulls me to his chest, my breasts smashing against his open shirt. Drago keeps me in that embrace for several minutes, and all I can wonder is what happened in his past to cause a man as strong as Drago Acerbi to be brought damn near to his knees over something that was supposed to be fun?
There is no telling and not knowing irks me. I can’t help him if I don’t know and I so badly want to help ease whatever torment he’s clearly going through inside himself right now.
But when I do find out, I have a feeling someone is going to need to pay for Drago’s pain.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
There is a knock on the door, and since I know Drago left it unlocked when he went out for a run, I know it can’t be him. It’s too hard of a pound for it to be Ms. Lincoln’s; she has more of a softer, dainty knock.
Sighing, I lay my smartphone down on the coffee table and then get up from the couch where I’ve been lounging most of the morning browsing clothes I can’t afford on my phone.
When I answer the door, no one is there, so I peek outside, looking down the hall and then down the other side. The stairwell door next to the elevator is closing, telling me someone must have just left. I’m about to close my door when something at my feet catches my attention. Looking down, it’s a medium-sized box, which is weird because I wasn’t expecting anything. As much as I’ve itched to, I haven’t ordered anything online in forever. I can’t spare a dime on myself since Gabe has been with me.
Bending down, I scoop it up, shaking it as I walk back inside, kicking the door closed with my bare foot.
After setting the box down on my table, I locate a pair of scissors from the kitchen to cut through the tape. It’s a plain packaging box, so there is nothing telling what might be inside.
