Page 90 of Set Play

Chapter 51

Mateo

My hands are cautious as I lather the soap over the curves of Élise’s waist. I keep my focus trained on her face, inhaling deep breaths of the soap’s floral scent, because if I look down and see the bruises, I don’t know that I can control myself. Honestly, it’s hard enough to look at her without thinking about how scared she sounded when she called Niamh after her fall. Despite my efforts, my eyes drop to each bruise, some already fading, others deepening in color. Logically, I know nothing about the accident was my fault, but that doesn’t stop my mind from trying to convince me otherwise.

It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s all your—

A warm hand grips mine, halting the barrage of blame. There’s so much care in her eyes when she looks at me, and I can’t help but smile. As she strokes her thumb along my cheekbone, a punch of emotion hits me square in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs.

I love her.

Holy shit. How did I not realize it before now?

My eyes widen slightly as I stare down at the woman in my arms. “Élise,” I whisper, afraid to speak too loudly and pop the bubble we’ve found ourselves in.

She tilts her head, waiting for me to continue. When I don’t, she reaches past me and grabs my body wash, squirting some onto her hands before moving to wash my chest. The citrusy smell of my soap permeates the air while she starts to hum.

Before her hands can reach my attention-hungry dick, I grab her wrists gently and pull her into me. “Big Shot?” I don’t think she means to, but it comes out as a question.

I place a soft kiss on her nose before moving to her mouth, savoring the brief feel of her lips against mine. Moving my lips across her jaw and to her ear, I confess in a low tone, “Eres mi media naranja, Chispita.1”

When I pull back, her face has scrunched up into an adorable expression of confusion. “Di-Did you just call me an orange?”

I tuck my face into the crook of her neck, unable to contain my laughter. “No, Chispita. I did not call you an orange.”

Well, I guess I kind of did, but not literally. It’s a saying my parents would use and despite being six when they passed, it has stuck in my mind.

“Are you going to tell me what it means?” She tries to sound annoyed, but the sparkle in her eyes assures me that it isn’t actual frustration lacing her tone.

“I don’t know if you’re ready to know yet. Otherwise, I’d tell you.”

“You still owe me the meaning behind the orange roses too, you know?” She huffs out, trying to pull out of my hold.

“Soon, Chispita. Once I’m sure you won’t run.” Before she can argue anymore, I back her up against the wall of the shower and press my lips to hers. My hands still ease their way down her body, scared to cause more damage.

My hesitation must irritate her because she bites down hard on my bottom lip and pushes on my right shoulder until I ease back from her. I expect her to stop pushing once I give her some space, but Élise keeps going until my back hits the tile. She places her hands on her hips and glares up at me. “Quit it.”

“Chispita…”

“No, Big Shot. You said I wasn’t broken, so quit treating me like it. I’m not broken nor will I break if you touch me. Since words don’t seem to be getting through to you, I’ll have to try something else.” She scrapes her nails down my chest to my hips while sinking to her knees. “Since you don’t want to touch me,” she taunts, gripping my cock and pumping it slowly, “now you’re not allowed to. Hands stay on the tiles or I stop.”

“Fuck, that’s not fair. It’s not that I don’t want to—” The words die when her tongue teases up my length. I rest my head back against the tile, dipping my chin to keep my eyes on her.

Even covered in bruises, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

When her left hand comes up to help tease me, my eyes catch on the gauze covering her stitches. Stitches that aren’t supposed to get wet. “Shit. Your stitches.”

Her eyes drop to her arm, but she doesn’t stop. “It’s okay. While you set up the shower, I put that second skin stuff over it so it wouldn’t get wet.”

Before I can even sigh in relief, she takes me into her mouth and sucks every other thought from my head. My hips jerk and she gags slightly but doesn’t pull off. “Fuck, Chispita. So fucking good.”

Élise

As I take Mateo deeper into my mouth, I see his hands twitch against the tile from the corner of my eyes, causing pride to swell in my chest. I did that. I’m making him unravel. He might have stopped me before I could last time, but not this time.

I’ll teach him better than treating me like I’m damaged.

My free hand skates over my stomach, not stopping until it finds its target, already dripping and needy. “Élise,” Mateo rumbles in warning. “I told you before, if anyone makes you come, it’s me.” The veins in his forearms are visible from the restraint of holding himself back from moving.