And I couldn’t be his when I couldn’t make him mine. Not really. Not in the long run. Everything was stacked against it. This was all we could have—sex, earth-shattering sex, and maybe a short spell of something more that would soon end in pain.
I knew it. So, with one last attempt, I tore my mouth from his.
One of his hands was cradling my face, the other threaded in my hair. I had one hand clutching his bicep, the other gripping the side of his neck. I was not in the best position to argue, but I tried, doing my best to sabotage, to avoid future hurt, just like he’d said. Just like Rio had said—I always planned forward. And aching for a man I couldn’t have wasn’t in my plans for the future.
“I’m not yours, Angelo. And trust me; you don’t want me to be.” He himself had just listed all the deep-seated ways I was fucked up.
“Too late for that. I already do,” he breathed back and tried to resume our kiss.
“You might be used to it, but you can’t plaster it all with sex,” I managed to pant against his mouth.
It was me I was fighting, not him.
A smirk spread on his lips. “Even when it’s amazing?” he groaned, his mouth hovering so close to mine.
“Complimenting yourself now?”
“Complimenting you.” He cupped my face with both hands, his thumbs swiping my cheeks. We were breathing together, on the brink of an eruption.
“I should be honored, given your vast experience.”
“I’d say something witty, June, but I have no blood left in my head.”
God help me, I could feel where all his blood had gone. I had been pushing my pelvis against it for the last sixty seconds, and he made those low, throaty groans that made me burn.
“You and I, it’s wrong, Angelo. And you can’t fuck me to make it right.”
His lips closed on mine, drowning my words inside his mouth.
I managed to tear my mouth from his again. “You can’t fuck me to shut me up, either.”
“Can I just fuck you?” he groaned.
“Sex won’t solve anything.” I was too far gone, swathed by his taste, and smell, and touch, angry that I couldn’t resist him, that everything in me wanted him.
“I know,” he breathed back, his mouth closing on mine. “Thiswill.” He took one of my hands and, along with his, pushed it under the hem of his shirt, pressing my palm against the warm skin of his abdomen, sliding it up his chest.
I felt the beating of his heart, and mine nearly exploded.
These were his songs of surrender, that was what they sounded like, and it was impossible not to give in.
I caved.
I closed my lips on his and kissed him again, hungrily, eagerly.
Angelo shifted himself against me, cinched my waist with his hands, and hitched me up to sit on the counter with him fitting between my parted legs. He took his shirt off, and then mine. And it was all the break we allowed between kisses.
Soon after, there were no more clothes to remove, and I felt his warm palms cupping my ass, shielding my bare skin from the cold marble.
I held on to him as he pushed into me. We both moaned at the sensation of his cock filling me.
Angelo looked at me, but I grazed my fingers over his stubble and pulled him into another kiss, wanting to feel him everywhere; feel him moving inside me right there on my organic kitchen counter that had never been used for anything like the things Angelo had introduced it to, including this wild, gasping, panting, pounding, torching sex.
Tomorrow, we’d be over, and like other addictive things—chocolate, ice cream, coffee, sugar, gluten, and amazing sex—if I didn’t keep the temptation in the house, I wouldn’t succumb to it. This was my last time.
It had to be, because my body wasn’t the only one addicted to Angelo. My heart was, too. I had known it when he’d been in San Francisco, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him and wishing he’d come back.
He worked like substance on these two—heart and body—but my mind remained clear, even now. I knew reality was stronger. And, in reality, there was no future for us, even if he meant what he said. I lived here, and he lived in San Francisco. Soon, he’d be back there with his friends and his circle, and most likely the woman hereallywanted to marry, or others like her.
