I can only nod, my throat too tight to form words. He leans down, and for a moment, I think he's going to kiss me.
But he doesn't.
He gets off the sofa, and my heart sinks.
Is he leaving?
But hewalks to the small bar in the corner of the office. He comes back with a glass of water and a damp towel.
He cleans me gently, his touch soft now. The predator has retreated, leaving only the man.
My chest aches with a fierce, protective love. I want to wrap him up and keep him safe. I want to tell him that he doesn't have to be strong all the time. That he can lean on me.
But I know he won't. He's a man who carries his burdens alone. A man who has been taught that vulnerability is a weakness.
Again, it occurs to me that I should feel ashamed. I should feel used. I should feel regret.
I feel none of those things.
I feel safe.
Protected. Cherished.
He finishes cleaning me, then pulls his jacket back over me.
I reach out and grab his arm. "Don't go," I say.
He looks down at me with a conflict in his eyes that almost takes my breath away.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says softly. "I won't leave you alone tonight."
He pulls me into a sitting position, his hands gentle.
"Can youstand?" he asks.
I nod, and he helps me to my feet. My legs are shaky, and I lean against him for support.
My clothes are a mess, scattered on the floor. His are, too.
I look at my desk, at the papers scattered around it. There's a small stack of files still neatly arranged on one corner that I was going to get to before I left for the night.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
Roberto follows my gaze. "We should get you dressed," he says.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. I feel a sudden, overwhelming rush of shyness. A blush rises on my cheeks, a stark contrast to the wanton woman who was begging him to mark her just moments ago.
Oddly, I want to tell him to turn around while I get dressed, which makes no sense.
He seems to sense my shyness, but he helps me get back into my jeans. I wince as the denim brushes the tender skin of my ass. He only spanked me a couple of times, but I think I'll have bruises tomorrow.
A reminder of our night together.
The thought sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
I reach for my bra, but Roberto stops me.
"Let me," he says.
