Heal My Wounds, Babygirl

Chapter 8

He may have thought that I would just hang on his shoulder like some lifeless doll, but I would not give up that easily.

I started jerking and twitching my limbs wildly and by some miracle I managed to almost fall off his broad shoulder and find myself on my own two feet.

Dante tried to grab me again, but I managed to continue my panically run down the stairs to Dr. Simon's office before one of his giant hands could touch me again.

I clutched my lab coat closed at the last moment, lungs burning as I flung myself through his door.

Empty. The room was empty.

Shit.

Panic clawed up my throat as footsteps approached. Heavy. Purposeful. Marking the countdown to my doom.

Then Dante filled the doorway, all broad shoulders and predatory grace. He barely fit in the frame, his height making him duck slightly as he entered. The loosening of his tie, the slow unbuttoning of his collar – each movement deliberate, calculated to make my heart race faster.

I froze in place, heart pounding as Dante advanced on me, his dark eyes locked on mine with a promise of consequences. Each step he took felt like a silent warning, and I couldn’t stop myself from backing away. My retreat ended when my back hit the edge of Dr. Simon’s desk.

Trapped.

My breath hitched as he closed the distance, his towering frame looming over me. The tension between us was suffocating, my pulse racing as I tried to figure out what to do next.

Before I could say anything, Dante swept everything off the desk in one swift motion, the crash of falling objects making me jump. Then he was on me, his body pressing me down against the cold, hard surface. The air rushed out of my lungs as his weight pinned me there, and panic spilled out of me in a rush of words.

"No, no, no! Shit! I'm sorry, okay?!" Words tumbled out in desperate streams. "It was a joke! Please! Just a stupid little joke! I'm sorry! I didn't think–"

Dante didn’t let me finish. His rough hand cupped my face, his fingers firm against my cheeks as he leaned in close. "And now you're about to learn to accept the consequences for your rash actions, babygirl," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Not waiting for my protest, his mouth crashed onto mine, the kiss searing and possessive. My mind went blank. The kiss stole my breath, my thoughts, my will to fight back.

His lips moved against mine with a force that left no room for resistance, his hand tilting my face so he could deepen the kiss. His other hand pinned my wrists above my head, his grip firm and unrelenting.

I gasped against his mouth, but the sound was swallowed by him, and I felt the vibration of a deep growl in his chest as his free hand moved lower, tracing the curve of my body.

Dante’s touch was rough, his fingers grazing the thin fabric of my dress, squeezing soft breast roughly as it fit into his palm, tracing the bare skin of my thighs as they were already wrapped around his waist, and then returning back to the tender skin of my neck.

His lips left mine to trail along my jaw, hot and insistent as they moved down to my neck. Each kiss, each nip of his teeth, left a mark that burned against my skin, sending sparks through my veins. My breath came in short, shallow bursts, and no matter how much I tried to stay silent, soft gasps escaped me.

I hated how my body responded to him, how every nerve seemed to spark to life under his control.

“Dante—” I managed to choke out, trying to sound firm, but my voice betrayed me, shaky and weak. His hand shifted lower, tracing the line of my thigh before wrapping around it, pulling me closer against him.

“Quiet,” he growled against my skin, his voice rough and commanding. The deep, guttural sound sent an unwelcome rush of heat through me, pooling low in my stomach.

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t trust my voice, and I wasn’t sure what I’d say if I did. The way his body pressed against mine, the way his hands and lips moved with purpose, left me spinning in a mix of frustration and something else I didn’t want to name.

He shifted, pressing himself more firmly between my legs, and the heat of him was impossible to ignore as well as the undeniable evidence of his arousal. A faint arch of my back bringing us closer, and his low chuckle sent a fresh wave of embarrassment through me.

“See? You’re learning already,” he said, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction.

I wanted to snap back, to tell him we need to stop, but my words were stolen by another kiss, this one slower but no less demanding. His hand moved again, roaming over me, igniting sensations that made my head spin.

Years without good sex, I tried to rationalize. That's all this is. That's all–

“Dante! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Dr. Simon’s voice was like a bucket of cold water.

Dante’s weight eased off me slightly, he slowly let go of my wrists and pulled back a bit. I blinked up at him in a daze and noticed traces of my red lipstick all over his mouth. His expression was taut with frustration, his jaw clenched as he glanced over his shoulder at the furious doctor.

I scrambled to sit up, clutching the front of my coat tightly as though it could shield me from what had just happened. My mind raced, my body still trembling as I tried to process everything.

Dr. Simon stood in the doorway, a folder in his hand, his eyes blazing with disapproval. “Get off of her. Now!” he demanded, stepping into the room.

Dante let out a slow breath, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he finally stepped back and with one last smirk, he turned away.

He took a few steps from me, scowling darkly as he stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. The obvious adjustment he made there sent fresh blood rushing to my face. His eyes never left me, even as Simon continued his tirade.

"You're cleaning up this mess yourself, you hear me, young man? I'm not doing it for you. You've gone too far this time!"

Dante’s jaw clenched, his sharp features hardening, but he didn’t argue. He cast one last look at me—his gaze unreadable, dark and heavy—before he finally stepped back again. Without another word, he stalked out of the room, leaving Dr. Simon and me in the tense silence that followed.

I barely registered Dr. Simon’s attempts to reassure me, his voice faint over the chaotic thrum of my thoughts. My hands shook as I buttoned my coat all the way up, desperate to hide the flushed skin Dante’s hands and lips had touched. My breath came uneven, and I avoided Dr. Simon’s eyes as I hurriedly began to clean up the mess on the floor.

“Juliette, dear, leave it,” he said firmly, his tone softening. "I’ll make him clean his own mess later."

And what about the mess he turned me into?

"It's fine. This actually happened because of me anyway."

I fled as soon as the desk was clear, practically running to my car. The need to get home, to shower off this night, drove me through empty streets at dangerous speeds.

Sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands, his mouth, the weight of him pressing me down.

Neither could I stop the shiver that ran through as I thought about how far I might have let him go if only Dr. Simon hadn’t arrived.

The thought terrified me the most—I’d have let him.

Dawn finally brought an uneasy rest. When I woke in the afternoon, my first act was to throw away that damned nurse costume and lingerie.

Today was my day off. No work. No classes. No thoughts of last night.

Especially not of Dante.

I focused on practical things instead. Half my paycheck to savings for loans. Some part of it plans for shopping on the next day off. Anything to keep my mind from straying to broad shoulders and predatory smiles and hands that knew exactly how to–

No. Today was for rest. For preparing for the week ahead.

Tomorrow I'll face reality. Today, I could pretend my world hadn't shifted on its axis in a single night.