I roll them at her, and this time, she does grab my chin.
“I didn’t ask you for a reaction. You just listen.” She releases me, and I chew on my lip as she moves on. “I love your hair. Long hair on guys is sexy as hell. I suppose that’s a personal preference.” She reaches out and trails her fingers over my stomach. “Six pack abs”—she makes a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue—“that’s sexy as fuck, I don’t care what you prefer. You’re tall, and lean, and this”—she moves her hand down and grabs my dick, causing me to gasp—“I do admit that this caught my attention early on. If you think people are looking at you, it’s probably because you’re fucking hot.”
Casey takes a step back as she lets go and puts her hands on her hips. I start to open my mouth, but she shushes me.
“And that’s just the first glance, of course. Superficial and shallow. The thing is, the second glance gives you a clear view of the shields. Yeah—those shields you have up that tell everyone to stay away from you. The downward stare, the sharp look of fear behind those beautiful eyes...they tell everyone what you want them to see, that you’re traumatized and don’t want anyone approaching. I recognized those shields right away. After all, I spent most of my life carrying them around, too.”
Casey steps forward, reaches her arms up and wraps them around my neck.
“I knew it was going to take some effort to get past that armor, but I also knew it was going to be worth it. I knew underneath all the physical attraction that there was something else, something sweet and kind and scared, something pure and something uniquely you. And that’s something worth sharing if you just knew how to open up and make it happen.”
She stands on her toes and pulls my head down until our lips meet. I close my eyes tightly as I fight back tears. I don’t want to cry, but I’m not sure I can stop it. Before we break apart, my cheeks are wet. Casey just smiles and wipes the teardrops away.
“You’re a beautiful person, Rocco. You’re smart and sexy and strong.”
“Strong?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
“You came through something that most people can’t even imagine. Hell, that’s the kind of shit you only see on that cable channel with all the messed-up stories. But you made it through. Somehow, you got through all of it and made your way to college. You are amazing, Rocco, and I’m pissed that you don’t see it.”
Chapter 10—Casey
Rocco has gone quiet though he seems more introspective than anxious. I can only hope it’s a good sign.
“Do you want some water?” I ask. “You’ve been talking for a long time.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
I grab a bottle of water out of my bag and open the top before handing it to him. He gulps down half of it without pausing, takes a deep breath, and then finishes the rest of it. I snicker softly as I sit back down and take a few swigs from my own bottle. I set if off to the side and look up at Rocco, still standing there, half naked, and staring into space. I reach out with open arms, and Rocco settles back down on my chest.
I have no idea how much time has passed or how late it is. I glance out at the open area of the dungeon and notice there aren’t as many people out there as there were before. I wonder if it’s near closing time. I’m not ready to leave just yet, but Rocco seems pretty tired.
I have the distinct feeling he’s told me a lot more than he’s ever told anyone else, certainly in one sitting. Though I’m overjoyed and honored that that he trusted me enough to tell me his story, I’m not really sure how I should react to it. Images in my head of a small, frightened boy alone in the dark haunt me. Even worse, I can imagine the same boy being interrogated by police—I know exactly what that’s like—
and not even understanding where he was or what was happening.
The whole thing pisses me off, but I can’t really come up with anyone to blame directly. His drugged-out parents? Maybe...but I don’t know anything about them or how they ended up in such a position. I could blame the hospital, cops, and social workers—but they were just trying to do their jobs the best they could.
Rocco was right about one thing—his life started out in the most fucked up way possible, and I have a much better understanding of why he is so closed off and reserved. Given his upbringing, all the anxiety he has is completely normal.
Just like it is for me.
I close my eyes for a moment and lean back against the cushions. I run my fingers through Rocco’s hair, allowing the soft strands to relax me. Rocco sighs and nestles against my tits, which makes me smile every time he does it. I’ve known guys who were into breasts before, but Rocco seems to take it to a whole new level.
“Who do you think is responsible?” I don’t actually mean to pose the question aloud, but Rocco responds.
“Responsible?”
“For everything that happened to you.”
He shrugs.
“I mean, you obviously did nothing wrong. You were just a kid.”
“Does it matter?”
“That you were a kid?”
“No.” Rocco nestles down again, running his nose over the top of my breast. “I’m not sure anyone did anything wrong. I think...shit just happened.”