He searches my face and I don’t move. I haven’t a clue as to what he could be looking for, but the anticipation of hearing his answer keeps me in place. I don’t want to miss any indication of what his thoughts are.
After a moment he exhales sharply and looks away, seeking something unseen or maybe patience. Again, my nerves heighten to an almost unbearable level, the jittery energy crackling along my skin.
“Your age is a factor, whether or not we want to acknowledge it,” he says. Then he brings his gaze back to me and there’s a tension in the gray of his eyes, making them stormy and tumultuous. “The way I look at you…” He shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with you being eighteen and everything to do with the complications it would bring if I were to do more than just look. Don’t you understand?”
I step closer, not enough to be flush with his body, yet close enough to where he can feel each of my breaths as my chest rises. “What about what I want? What about if I want you to do more than look? You already have, not that you’ve forgotten.” I frown as the thought occurs to me. “Am I right?”
He nods stiffly. “There isn’t an hour that goes by that I don’t think about it.”
I smile up at him and slide my hands along his biceps, along his shoulders, and then lightly grasp the back of his neck, while combing my fingers through his hair. After tilting up my chin, I press my torso against his, wanting to mold to him, to be one with him. His heart pounds furiously, indicated by the throbbing in his neck and how it drums against my chest where mine meets his. And then there’s his cock, which has a pulse all on its own.
Tristano reaches up and untangles my fingers from his neck, gently bringing them to my sides. Then he steps back and a small, cool breeze enters the space between us, emphasizing the distance he created. I want to hug my middle to steel myself against the rejection from him, but I don’t. Instead I choose to fortify myself internally, stoking the fire of determination inside.
If he thinks that I’ve given up, then he has no idea what’s coming for him.
Since my blatant approach didn’t work, I’ll go for subtle and sensual.
Tristano may be experienced, but I’m efficient.
Violetta the victorious versus Tristano the trustworthy.
Game on.
Tristano
It guts me to remove her touch.
It kills me to take away her smile.
It devastates me to erase her joy.
But I’m doing it for the good of everyone. Except myself.
Violetta could be the best thing for me and if it were my choice, she’d be mine in body and soul, not only in my mind.
“Your age does not diminish you in any way,” I say, keeping my tone gentle to avoid unnecessarily hurting her. “However, you haven’t lived long enough to know what you really want and although you believe it’s me, you could realize later on that someone else would’ve been more suited to you.”
Notbetter, just more appropriate.
I’ll never agree that another man can give her the best of everything, which is what she deserves. But I can’t decide that for her, no matter how much I want to.
“And how many months, or years even, will it take for me to gather this knowledge?” She tilts her head and the blue of her eyes sparkles with a fierce emotion I suspect to be anger. I prefer that over pain any day. “And how many men should I invite to my bed before I have enough experience to know what I want? Five? Ten?”
“Violetta.”
My rage is instant. It’s one thing for me to urge her to live her life, but it’s a whole other conversation altogether to discuss her having sex with other men, especially multiple.
“You’re right, this topic is highly improper,” she says. “However, since you’re telling me what I should do withmybody, I’m open to suggestions.” She purses her lips and flicks her wrist in the direction of the building, right when Benito walks past during one of his perimeter checks. “Do you think Beni is a good choice? You trust him with your life, so I assume I can trust him with my virgin—”
I have my hand wrapped around her throat before I can draw enough breath to bellow my fury. With enough pressure to cut off her words—because I can’t endure hearing her finish that statement—I hold Violetta fast and then jerk her to me, causing her plush body to slam into mine. She wheezes at the impact and her gaze widens. I stare into the oceanic hues, searching for fear, anger, or any other negative emotion, but they’re nowhere to be found.
If her eyes are tropical waters, then the treasure underneath is the resplendent desire swirling in their depths.
Now it’s me who’s short of breath. Violetta’s reaction is not something I predicted and I’m ill-prepared to deal with it. Instead of frightening her or provoking her indignation so she’ll keep her distance, all I want to do is finish what I started in the jeep yesterday.
“Are you out of your damn mind?” I growl, shaking her a little. Surprisingly, she doesn’t try to pry my hands from her throat, although it’s clearly a struggle for her to breathe. I allow her enough oxygen to keep her alive, but nothing more so she won’t have the ability to speak. “I told you that you’re not going to have sex with anyone on my payroll or in this country, and now you want to discuss it on a night I’ve planned to spend with you? I should whip your ass.”
Her fucking pupils dilate.
