Yes, you don’t have to tell me it was a terrible move and that I probably just exposed both of us, but there’s not a single logical thought crossing my mind right now. The only thing I know is that there’s no chance in hell that creep is going up with my Olívia.
As I head to a floor above, where the presidential suite is located, I’m a mess inside. For the first time since I’ve known her, I wonder whether I’m mistaken and she’s exactly like Layla.
No, she wouldn’t do this after everything we’ve been through in the past few days.
Anyway, that guy will only go to her apartment over my dead body.
I track her movements through my phone, which is also connected to the hotel cameras. She’s still in the hallway leading to the elevator, and only when I see the blond with a shaved head coming out alone do I start breathing again.
Completely insane with jealousy, I type a message as soon as I enter the suite.
Me:I’m waiting for you, Miss Freitas. Don’t even think about running away.
I know I should wait for her inside the room, but the urgency is unbearable.
Finally, when the elevator door opens and I have her within reach, all my troubled mind can focus on is the scene I watched from the moment she entered the hotel. Less than five minutes ago, there was some creep eyeing my woman.
I look at her.
The tight jeans she’s wearing outline every curve of her delicious body.
The long hair that just a few days ago was coiled around my fist as I made her climax falls loose.
The mouth with naturally red lips begs for mine.
And her eyes, those blue depths that drown me every damn time we stare at each other...
I should take it easy.
We need to talk, but I can’t think clearly. So before I can rationalize, I complete the steps needed to reach her, and holding her face exactly where I need it, I take her mouth, invading, consuming, taking back what’s mine.
Chapter 32
The moment his mouth is on mine, I forget everything.
Why I left on Saturday. How I spent two whole days with a confused mind. That we’re wrong together.
I just need him.
His kiss isn’t like any he’s ever given me. It’s needy but also punishing. As if his mouth challenges me to deny that I want him. As if he, in his entirety, forces me to confess that I’m his.
But just as I’m starting to lose myself, he pulls away, leaving me weak and needy against the door.
At first, I can’t believe he backed off.
I can’t open my eyes. I crave a little more of what we have when we touch.
Seconds pass, and he doesn’t come back, so I finally force myself to wake up from the dream.
I try to keep a neutral expression, but by now, you can all imagine what a terrible liar I am.
Like the first time I saw him, his powerful figure impacts me.
He’s looking at me. Observing every part of me.
The black stilettos, the tight jeans, the short jacket, and the top underneath that shows a part of my abdomen.
“You went out with a guy.” It’s not what he says but his tone that drives me completely crazy.
