There was no more teasing then.
We were both too overstimulated, too close to the edge.
Venezio fucked me hard and fast, my moans mingling with his ragged breathing, his clipped curses.
“That’s it,” he ground out. “Come for me.”
Then I did.
And he did.
And we both collapsed onto the bed—me on my belly, him on his back—panting and thrumming and boneless.
I couldn’t say how long we stayed just like that. Time no longer existed in this little world we were living in. And I was in no rush to get it back. To go back to real life.
I knew that each hour holed up in the safe house meant less time for the charity, for my work, for my friends.
I couldn’t make myself care less.
For just this once, I was going to be selfish and get what I wanted.
I would consider it my Christmas gift to myself.
Venezio exhaled hard, and I knew the moment was over.
“You’re going.”
“You make it sound like I’m fucking leaving the country,” he said, sliding to the edge of the bed to gather his clothes. “I’m just gonna pop into the bodega to see if they have a cord.”
With that, he went into the bathroom.
Alone, I flipped onto my back, staring up at the ceiling and blinking away the sudden wetness in my eyes.
It was silly.
But I knew that everything was going to change once his phone was charged and we were in contact with the world again.
Venezio made his way back out a moment later, fully dressed, his stride no-nonsense until he spotted me.
“Fuck,” he sighed to himself.
His gaze tracked up and down me. Once. Twice. I saw the conflict on his handsome features. But as his shoulders slumped, I knew he had made his decision.
“You stay just like that. I’ll be back in ten. Less.”
Then he was walking out.
I listened to the door close.
Only then did I fold up, sucking in a steadying breath and climbing off the bed to grab my clothes. Because I knew better. Once the phone was plugged in, it would power up. Then he’d be making phone calls and plans. It was all almost over.
I stopped in the closet, digging around in all the bagged clothing and shoes until I found a pair of thick women’s slippers, hoping they would ease the ache in my soles, then made my way into the bathroom.
I took time putting myself together—brushing my hair, then pulling it back, swishing mouthwash, getting into the clothes and the slippers that were only half a size too big and felt like stepping on clouds, even with my aching feet.
I’d just flicked off the light and moved into the bedroom when I heard the doorknob jiggling.
“That was fast,” I mumbled to myself, pretending to ignore how much my heart ached, knowing that we were mere moments away from everything changing.
