He rocks into me, setting an unhurried pace as goosebumps scatter over my skin. It’s different this time, and the pulsing beat of his heart tells me I’m not the only one who feels it. There’s a current arcing between us, more intense than anything else we’ve ever shared.
It’s addictive…and terrifying.
I scrape my fingers over his bare back, pulling him as close as I possibly can as the fire consumes us.
The low, rough sounds ripping from his throat bleed into something primal as he thrusts deeper, harder, losing control of himself. I feel every throbbing inch of him, every tremor, every ragged breath. It feeds the wounded part of me—the need to be wanted by him.
My body trembles, muscles pulling tight as pressure builds. It isn’t a slow unraveling. He’s pushing me right to the edge, andwhen he pulls back to look at me, a visceral spark of possession flares in his eyes. It sends me spiraling into oblivion so fast, I barely have time to brace for it.
I come hard, rolling waves of pleasure crashing through me as I contract around him. It’s relentless, racking my body as he fucks me through the orgasm. He draws it out until I’m completely boneless, a languid warmth spreading through my veins as my senses slowly return.
When I open my eyes to meet his, he’s still watching me, the tendons in his neck straining as he hangs on by a thread. He’s holding out for something, and in the next heartbeat, I find out what it is.
“Say it again.”
I don’t have to ask what he means.
I reach up and touch his face, watching his throat work as I whisper his name again.
He buries himself inside me, a powerful tremor shuddering through him as he comes with a long, painful groan.
The pads of my fingers feather over his jaw, mesmerized by how beautiful he looks in this moment. Every muscle in his body contracts as he pours his release into me, laying himself bare in the light of day.
I burn the image to memory, saving it somewhere I’ll never forget.
He catches me staring and reaches down, warm fingers stroking my face.
When he looks at me like I’m the only thing that exists for him, it triggers another swell of emotion. He recognizes it, but neither one of us addresses it, because we aren’t ready to face it.
Instead, he stays inside me, touching and kissing me, giving me everything I ever needed from him.
We spend the rest of the afternoon doing more of the same, getting lost in each other between periods of dozing off.
When I wake again, I don’t know what time it is.
Romeo’s room is dark, lit only by a lamp on his desk that casts a soft glow over the space. I’m sprawled across his chest, using him like a pillow, and I’m surprised to find that he’s actually asleep. He looks so peaceful, and for a while, I just watch him, letting it all sink in.
There are still so many questions about where we go from here. I’m not sure what he wants from me, and that uncertainty terrifies me. I remember how much it hurt to lose him the first time. Now, I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to let him go.
I’m in love with him…but I have to force that feeling down and lock it away inside my heart.
Something tells me I need to protect myself because I can’t forget his warnings. He told me repeatedly that he wasn’t good for me, and I know he believes it. He believed it so much, he pushed me away for years.
The fragile sense of safety I felt with him fractures as a thousand questions spiral through my thoughts.
Did he ever intend to reveal his true identity? Would he have let me marry Riccardo if he hadn’t killed him today? Which version of him is real—Romeo or Eros? Were the things he said just part of the game?
Anxiety creeps in, suffocating the air from my lungs.
I quietly extricate myself from the bed, pulling my clothes back on before I pad to the bathroom.
Taking a few moments to collect myself, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and swallow the pain in my throat. It hasn’t gone away just because I learned the truth.
Whether or not he thought it was the right thing to do, Romeo crushed my heart. He made me believe he hated me, and that wound hasn’t healed. I can forgive him, but I can’t let my guard down when I don’t know what this is to him.
I won’t open myself up to that kind of pain again.
I can’t.
