"Mm…hm." She doesn't look up, but her voice is dreamy.
I tilt her head back slightly and see those endless blue eyes glazed over with lust and satisfaction.
My heart skips a beat.
She's fucking perfect.
And she's all mine.
How am I going to let her go when the time comes?
Chapter Fourteen
Elena
I wake up sore.
For a second, I don’t know why. It’s that floaty moment between sleep and awake where everything feels like a dream.
Then I drop like a stone right back to earth when my memory comes crashing back.
Luca!
I shoot up, sheet falling to my waist. The room tilts, then steadies. The other side of the bed is empty.
The pillow beside me is dented. It smells like soap and something warm—his cologne, faint, threaded into cotton. The sheet is twisted around my thighs. My nightgown is in tatters around me and on the floor.
My skin itches with desire in places that feel used. Shoulder, hips, inner thighs. A little rasp at my throat where his stubble found me. I touch it without meaning to and pull my hand back guiltily.
The clock on my nightstand says 6:41. The light through the blinds is thin and gray. Morning has barely come.
He’s gone.
Of course he is.
My heart spikes anyway, ridiculous and immediate. I throw the sheet aside and swing my legs over the edge, standing too fast. Knees complain.
I press a palm to the mattress where his weight was, and it’s cool. He’s been gone long enough for his heat to leak away.
On the nightstand, my phone is plugged in. I reach for it and hiss as my sore shoulders complain.
I remember my arms bound tight with my own nightgown. Held hostage in my own bed.
And how much I loved it.
I shiver.
I should be embarrassed. I should feel ashamed.
I can’t believe I let him do that to me.
More than once!
After we were done the first time, I had barely recovered when he was hard and ready to go again.
And again.
And again.
