Page 42 of Split You Open

Leaning forward, I kiss the side of his neck.

“Why aren’t you waiting for me upstairs in my bed?” I growl into his ear before nipping at it. “Has my pretty whore forgotten where he belongs?”

I feel his answering shiver. “I thought you’d want something to eat⁠—”

“I do. And it’s you. Now get the fuck upstairs or I’ll fuck your tight, sweet ass raw right here on the fucking floor of the kitchen. No lube, no prep, just taking what’s mine and using you until I’m fucking spent. We’ve been separated too long, Santi. I need my fill of you.”

There will never be a time where I get my fill of this man. Not ever.

Blair saved my life, pulling me from the quarry’s edge, and gave me a new perspective on life but I was torn away from Santi before I could enjoy this new insight. Now that we’re together, I’m going to make up for the time lost. As we move forward, I’m going to make sure Santi knows exactly how I feel about him.

Santi groans. “Yes, take me right here.”

“We’re going to need a softer spot for what I want to do to you,” I growl, taking his hand and pulling him from the room.

We make it halfway down the hallway before I stop, turn around, and pin him to the wall. Grabbing his wrists, I yank them over his head and pin them to the wall as well. My other hand makes it to his throat. Then I’m kissing Santi, hard. I kiss him as if that would be enough to sustain me. Santi groans. He grinds his hips against me as I nip at his bottom lip.

I break away with a gasp.

“Upstairs, now,” I huff out.

Taking his hand again, I drag him up the stairs.

Or nearly all the way up them.

Desperate to taste him again, I turn and pull Santiago down until he’s beneath me. I know it can’t be comfortable for him, his back pressed against the hard stairs, but I can’t find it in me to give a fuck if he’s comfortable.

My lips crash against his again.

I’ve missed him so damn much.

How has it taken me so fucking long to realize what I have right here with him? It took a woman with a mean streak and a slightly skewed moral compass to whip me into shape. Fuck, I owe Blair big time.

And I owe the world to Santiago who refused to take “fuck off” and “I can’t give you what you want’” for an answer. He’s been right here waiting patiently for me to realize he’s exactly who I want to love.

I bite Santi’s lip—stopping myself just short of drawing blood.

He grunts then rolls his hips against mine.

“I need you, my pretty little whore. Can you tell?” I rasp against his lips before planting kisses along his jaw.

“Yes,” he chokes out. “I need you, too, mi amado.”

My beloved.

I shiver.

It’s an undeserved endearment but I’m going to work hard to earn it. I start to tug down his sweatpants, but I stop myself at the last minute.

“Let’s go,” I murmur against his lips.

I grab his hand and pull him to his feet then push him ahead of me, determined to at least make it to my room. The minute we’re inside and the door is slammed shut, I jump Santi.

My fingers go to his hair as our lips crash together once more. I bite his bottom lip, demanding he open for me. Santi does without question. My tongue barrels forward, staking a claim. I walk him back toward my bed. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, I push against his chest.

Santi laughs as he falls back onto the bed, but when our eyes meet the amusement is mixed with a plethora of other emotions. Fear, relief, worry, love—it all mingles and storms in those rich brown eyes of his.

“I’ve missed you,” I tell him seriously.