“Will you hold me?”
I doubt she’s ever asked someone that, and the fact that she’s choosing to be so vulnerable with me is enough to shatter any reservations.
Instead of answering, I scoop her into my lap, laying her head against my shoulder. Her legs encircle my waist, and her arms wrap around my neck. I brush a wet curl off her forehead and lean myself against the closest wall to the water. “Is this okay?”
There’s an electricity crackling around us; I could be walking through a power plant fueling an entire city, and there’d still beless current zinging over my body. The hot water dampening our skin, our clothes, seems to only intensify the force, and even wet, the hairs on my arms stand at full attention.
I can’t tell if I’m breathing anymore, and I don’t even care.
I could die here, holding her, and feel at peace.
A finger running down the column of my neck, pausing at the hollow of my throat has me swallowing. “Are you real?” Her voice trembles, sounding far away.
“I’m not as good as you think. Not by a long shot.”
“I don’t care about good.”
It’s a devastating revelation. “What do you care about?”
She stills, and it’s clear I’ve caught her off guard. When she finally tips her face toward mine, beads of water pebbling on her skin before spilling off her chin, she shoots me the saddest smile. “Loyalty. Honesty and determination. Safety.” Her finger runs back up my throat, almost absentmindedly. Only, it doesn’t stop, tracing the line of my jaw before sweeping over my bottom lip. Her eyes follow the path of her finger, snagging on my lip. Her tongue sweeps out over the plump part of her own, and I suppress the need to groan. Instead, my fingers tighten their hold on her hips, and her eyes shoot to mine, reading my mind.
“We…we can’t?—”
“Why?” Her voice is breathless, and I do groan, unable to stop it this time. Why? Because I’m lying to her, about everything. I’m deceiving her. I planned to destroy her.
And even though all that has changed, I don’t know how to even begin to tell her. She deserves better—so much better.
I can’t do this with her, not without her knowing the truth. Because if I do it with her, I’ll never let her go, no matter the cost.
Instead of spilling the truth, I say, “You deserve someone good, someone better. Especially when you’re hurting.”
Her eyes flash, and I see the spark of the woman I always thought she was burning within them. “I deserve to say who I want and when I want them.”
I open my mouth, but only a wheeze comes out.
She’s right,of course.But that’s not why I can’t have her. Can I really tell her that, though? Can I tell her everything?
For the first time since I’ve met Valentina Reyes, I’m terrified of losing her.
“I want you, Santos. Not because I’m hurting or because I want to forget the pain. I want you, the man you are and for the way you make me feel. I want you because I l?—”
I slam my mouth against hers, driven by something deep and primal, claiming her mouth with a desperation I’ve never felt before. I’m starved for her touch, her taste, her scent, and with each swipe of my tongue, I only grow hungrier.
Her fingers sink into my neck as she scoots deeper into my lap, her center right above my cock, already hard and aching as she rubs against it.
She gasps, and I consume that too, my fingers running through her hair, pulling her head back slightly to gain better access to her mouth. My tongue tangles with hers, inviting her into my mouth as my lips devour her.
Valentina gives to me willingly and without reservation—completely and totally surrendering—and I know it’s not out of forced habit, but out of total trust. She trusts me to take care of her, to protect her, but she also trusts that for the first time, she can protect herself.
It’s clear in the way she gives and takes, how she opens for me, her hands still demanding more. It’s intoxicating, and I realize too late I’ve completely lost myself to her.
“More,” she moans against my mouth, and even though I know I shouldn’t, there’s no way of stopping. Not now,not ever.
“What do you want?” This time, it’s not about punishment or power, or even well-hidden curiosity. This is about giving and taking parts of ourselves we’ll never get back.
“Anything. Everything.” Her fingers begin reaching for the hem of my t-shirt, and she pulls it over my head, the water drenching through making it harder to peel away. When she at last succeeds, she pauses, her eyes and fingers roaming hungrily over my shoulders and down my torso. “You’re beautiful.”
I smirk. I can’t help myself, and she rolls her eyes, but a teasing smile threatens her lips.
