Shame burned through me. “Occasionally. But not too often.”
Frankie said nothing, and I began to shake. “I’ll be okay. I know this changes things between us.”
“You think so?” Frankie stroked my back. “Why?”
“Because I was yours. Goddamn it, I’d never let anyone else inside me but you. And he took that from me. From us. He tookeverythingfrom me. And you know what? I can’t even blame him for it. Because it was all my fault.”
“Don’t say that. It’s not true.”
“It is,” I cried out, the hot knife of pain slicing through me as if I was in that shower and I’d been stabbed again. “Don’t you see? If I’d treated you the way you deserved from the start, I wouldn’t have gone to prison. It’s a domino effect. Everything that’s gone wrong is because of my bad decisions.”
Sitting up cross-legged, Frankie gazed down at me. The setting sun shone from behind him, putting him into shadows, so I couldn’t see his face. Perhaps it was better that way.
“You’re right. You made bad decisions with horrible consequences. I’m not gonna make excuses for you. But not that. Never that. Rape is never the victim’s fault. So I’ll allow you to take responsibility for why you ended up in prison but not for being assaulted.”
Curiously light and hopeful, I touched his bare leg, drawing circles around his kneecap. His skin quivered under my touch.
“I’m sure you’ve seen almost everything dancing. Has anyone ever tried to hurt you?”
A flicker in his big brown eyes set off my alarm bells. I slid my hand up his leg. “Tell me.”
“Nothing like what happened to you. But guys have pushed my limits. And when you were in prison, I allowed them to do more than I do now. It didn’t mean nothing to me because it wasn’t with you.”
“I messed up so many lives. But you havta know, anytime he—it—happened I’d close my eyes and will myself away, pretending I was here with you. I never felt nothin’.”
Once again, Frankie stretched out next to me, our lips barely touching, his face grave in the deepening shadows. “You don’t have to pretend. Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry. It ain’t that I don’t love it when you touch me. But—”
“But it’s not the right time. I get it. You can want something so bad, yet when it’s there in front of you, it’s too scary.” He kissed me, and I held him tight, molding my lips to his. I responded but remained afraid. What if it never got better, no matter how much I loved Frankie? I clutched him tighter.
“I just need some time.”
He kissed me sweetly. “I want to be with you. And if we have to wait, that’s what we’ll do until it’s right for you.” He snuggled into my arms. “Let’s get some sleep.”
I closed my eyes to the sound of his steady breathing.
That night my vivid dreams were different. Instead of Armando’s cruel laughter ringing in my ears, I heard Frankie’s whispers of love. I felt his kisses on my lips, the brush of his lashes against my cheek. I moaned, unable to hold back the rising swell of desire rushing through me.
The ache for Frankie grew like a fever rising inside me, and I saw his face before me, strong and beautiful, yet haunted.
“Don’t leave me.” I reached out but touched nothing. I woke up, shivering, drenched in sweat. Frankie sat up as if he’d been waiting for me.
“I’m not going to leave you.”
How? What?My face must’ve registered confusion.
He sidled closer so our bodies touched. “You were restless as usual, and I couldn’t sleep. I knew you were having bad dreams and wanted to make sure I’d be there for you when you woke up.”
I wanted him so much, it hurt to breathe. Frankie’s loving touch needed to be the memory of who’d last been inside me, not a person who’d never be anything more than a shadow of a painful past. A devil who needed to be exorcised.
“Hold me.”
He drew me to him, chest to chest. Heart to heart. As naturally as breathing, he threw a long leg over my hip, nestling closer, fitting into his perfect “Frankie place.”
“Make love to me,” I whispered in his ear and felt him stiffen with surprise.
“What, now? Even after—”
