"Diamond." His voice is sharp. Concerned. He walks to me, water still dripping down his chest, and his hands are on my face before I can speak. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"Nightmare." The word comes out broken. "I fell asleep on the couch and he was there, the stalker, he had a knife."
"Hey. Look at me." His thumbs stroke my cheeks. I'm crying, I realize. When did I start crying? "You're safe. It was a dream. He's not here."
"It felt real."
"I know. But it wasn't." He pulls me against his chest, and I go willingly, pressing my face against warm, damp skin. He smells like soap. His arms wrap around me, solid and sure, and I feel the terror start to drain away.
But something else is building in its place.
He's practically naked. Just a towel between us. I can feel every inch of him: the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of muscle, the heat radiating off his skin. My hands are flat against his back, and I can feel the scars there, the texture of ink.
"Diamond."
I tilt my head back. Look up at him.
He's so close. Water droplets clinging to his jaw. Dark eyes burning into mine. His hands have shifted—one on my lower back, one tangled in my hair.
"I want to kiss you," I whisper.
"You're scared. Not thinking clearly."
"Yes, I am." I press closer, and I feel him—hard, thick, impossible to miss even through the towel. "I've wanted this since the first day. I touched myself thinking about you after you spanked me,” I admit. “Tell me you don't want me and I'll go back to my room and never mention it again."
His jaw flexes. His fingers tighten in my hair.
"I can't tell you that."
"Then kiss me."
Cesar, my bodyguard, breaks.
His mouth crashes into mine, hot and demanding, and I moan against his lips as his hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back for better access. His tongue sweeps into my mouth like he's trying to devour me, and I let him. I want him to. I want him to consume me completely.
I press myself against him, feeling that hard ridge through the towel, through my thin pajamas. He groans into my mouth and his hips jerk forward, grinding against me, and the friction is so good I gasp.
"Mija." The word is a growl against my lips. "You have no idea what you do to me."
His hands grip my hips, lifting me like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist and he walks us backward until my back hits the wall, and then he's kissing me again, his hips rolling against my center, the towel doing nothing to hide how much he wants me.
I'm on fire. Burning from the inside out. I reach between us, desperate to touch him, to feel—
He catches my wrist. Pins it to the wall above my head.
"Not yet." He's breathing hard, his forehead pressed against mine. "Not like this."
"Why not?"
"Because when I fuck you, Diamond, it's not going to be against a wall while you're shaking from a nightmare and I'm dripping wet in a towel." He pulls back just enough to look at me, and his eyes are black with want. "When I take you, you're going to be ready. You're going to be begging for it. And I'm going to take my time."
I whimper. Actually whimper. "Cesar..."
He lowers me to the ground slowly, keeping me pressed against the wall, his body still caging mine. His thumb traces my lower lip, and I shiver.
"Can you be good for me,mija?"
God. The way he says that. The way he's looking at me, like I'm something he's been starving for.
