He was still behind me, and when he pulled out, I winced. The loss of him felt significant. Like I’d lost a vital part of me. A connection that was missed in the bone every time it was severed.
I wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t said anything to me to make me believe this was more than what we’d just done, but then again, wasn’t the risk he’d taken as great as mine?
Or maybe he was just that kind of man. He saw something. He wanted it.His.
“Your thoughts are loud, Rosalia,” he said, turning me to face him.
“I’m clean,” I said, blurting out the first thing that came to my mind. “You don’t have to worry, I—”
“I don’t worry,” he said. “I either do or I don’t. It happens or it doesn’t. Tell me what’s really on your mind.”
“This,” I said, motioning between the two us. “If we get caught—”
“Do you care?”
He was belittling the consequences. He might as well have said, “Do you care if you feel the need to speed and get caught?”
“Do you care?” I whispered.
“I stopped caring a long time ago.” He moved a piece of hair that was stuck to my skin from my face, his touch light, his hand lingering.
“About us getting caught?”
“About death,” he said.
“Oh.” I looked away from him, hoping he would have actually answered the question.
“Answer me, Rosalia.”
“No.” I shook my head as he used my chin to tilt my head up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “No, I don’t care about getting caught. Obviously.”
“I don’t either. Obviously.”
“True.” A small smile that I couldn’t hide came to my face. He had beaten me at my own game. Instead of answering my question, giving me something,anything, he had me admitting to the obvious.
He nodded at me once and then took my hand, leading me to his closet. I stood there naked, not sure what to do with myself. What was I going to wear? A jacket from one of his suits as a dress? He’d ripped mine.
“Someone is going to notice that I changed my clothes,” I said. “That dress wasn’t exactly forgettable.”
He was sliding his hand on the inside of one of his cabinets, and at that remark, he stopped and met my eye. The look in his eyes made me take a step back and cover my breasts, suddenly feeling self-conscious about being naked in front of him.
The fire had gone completely out of his stare, and I was left in the freezing cold.
Without answering me, he continued to slide his hand inside of the cabinet until a piece of wood slipped out. A key was hidden behind it. To someone looking, they could never tell, because it fit perfectly flush.
The key was old looking, by the shape of it, and fit the cabinet that had a lock on it. He pulled out a dress and flung it at me. I caught it with one hand. It was a turtleneck sweater dress. The hem would fall past my knees, or maybe even longer. It was a size too big.
I looked up from checking out the dress and met his stare. He had placed a blow dryer on the cabinet and plugged it in. Female things—a hairbrush, hair accessories, even makeup—were stacked neatly in that secret cabinet.
“I need to wash,” I said, looking away from him, hardly able to get the words out.
No, he wasn’t afraid of death, and by the looks of it, he had a death wish. How many women in this place was he fucking? Or did he bring women here from time to time? Women who didn’t belong to the organization?
A fear inside of me, like something I had never known, made me keep my mouth shut. I didn’t want to know. Couldn’t.
It wasn’t about the threat of death, but about the death of something vital inside of me if this was how he got his rocks off.
He came to stand in front of me, so I was forced to either stare at his chest or meet his eyes. I chose his chest, but my eyes flew to his when his hand came between my legs. His seed coated my thighs, and his fingers slid through it, dragging it between my legs.
