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“I am who I am, and you are who you are. Despite our best intentions, neither of us is going to change. I can’t do it again, Rafael.”
“Your feelings for me have changed so quickly? Maybe they weren’t really what you thought they were.” His tone isn’t biting, but the words are churlish, maybe manipulative. He’s not accustomed to being told no.
“Don’t you dare lecture me about my feelings. You don’t even have a sense of your own, let alone mine.”
“I know that you scare me,” he says, eyes locking with mine. “I know that you lied and put yourself in astounding peril. I know that I could care about you in ways that would be my ruin. But I’m willing to give it a shot, because I also know that I’ve never felt this way before, about anyone.”
He runs his fingertips through my hair, and I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at him.
“My feelings haven’t changed,” I confess, my eyes still shut. “What’s changed is my willingness to act on them.” I open my eyes and peer at him. “You know that saying, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me? For me, the third time wouldn’t be about shame, but about self-loathing. If you run, I can’t imagine how much I’d despise myself for being foolish enough to have sex with you again. Because that’s what you’re really asking for.”
“I’m asking for another chance.”
“I can’t give you that.”
“You won’t, you mean.” His tone is resigned, with a bitter edge.
“I won’t.”
He nods, gets out of bed, and tugs off his clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“Showering,” he grumbles, pulling open the bathroom door. “But this discussion isn’t over. Not anywhere near close.”
16
RAFAEL
Damn woman. I slam the bathroom door and turn on the shower.
What did you expect? She’d ride your cock until you passed out? No. But I wouldn’t have complained if she offered.
I went to the bedroom to apologize. No ulterior motive. But once I saw her clothes draped over the chair and I knew she was naked beneath the covers—sex crossed my mind once or twice, or a dozen times.
When the water’s warm, I step into the shower like it’s a baptismal font. I let the water rain on me, hoping it’ll wash away my unrelenting desire for her. But I must be the worst of sinners, because it doesn’t do a damn thing to curb my craving. My addiction. If anything, I want her more.
As I work the soap into my skin, all I smell is Lexie. Her shampoo. Her lotion. Her amber perfume. Her sweet cunt that fits like a glove around my cock. So perfect.
She has a choke hold on me. She’s all I see. All I taste. All I smell. I’d give anything to touch her, again. I ache for it. I ache for her.
I palm my cock and close my eyes, imagining her here, on her knees, gazing up at me with water droplets clinging to long, pale lashes. Her eyes flicker with lust as her tongue darts out between those luscious pink lips to lap at my crown.
Her essence is everywhere, inching closer, squeezing tighter until I can barely breathe.
Memories of her velvet mouth consume me. It’s warm and tender, with a wicked edge. I pump my cock viciously, pulling roughly, until all I think about—all I feel—is her hot breath and the way her teeth scrape over my length as she drives me to the brink of insanity.
With a savage grunt, I submit to the fantasy, letting it take me to a place where there’s only pleasure—and torment—twisting together until they’re one.
My cock throbs as I curl my toes into the shower floor and surrender to her mouth like she’s a bruja who’s cast a spell over me.
As her tongue bathes my rock-hard cock, I thread my fingers through her hair, with shaky hands. Be careful with her, Rafael.
She draws me into her mouth, with lips like a silky vise molded around my shaft. I’d sell my soul to the devil for more of this. Maybe I already have.
A tortured groan snakes its way from the depths of my chest and into the steam wafting around us. Her eyes sparkle victoriously. She knows there’s no turning back—not for me.
You have all the power, Angel. Own it.
