Tomás doesn’t care when I scream his name. He knows no one will hear how he's secretly dominating my demons with his body.
Once he’s emptied his everything inside of me, he slumps onto the bed. A sheen of sweat kisses his torso and his arm flops over his face to hide his eyes while he recovers.
I lie there for a few minutes and catch my breath. It’s this moment of vulnerability when we’re both lingering in the wake of something earth shattering that he’s simply a man, and I’m the woman who knows she’s disposable, even if I’d likely stay a while longer if he asked me to. Emotion sticks in my throat. How could I be so stupid?
I didn’t choose to enjoy his storm, but I’ve come to accept it. To want and long for it. It’s staggering to feel this way about the man drifting into a deeply relaxed state beside me on the bed. He trusts me to be this close to him.
Except none of this is normal. Being with him isn’t normal. Craving his brutality isn’t normal. And kindling feelings for him definitely isn’t normal either.
The fantasy leaves me and reality slams into my chest. I fight for a breath, sick to my stomach. Propelling off the bed, I hurry to the adjoining bathroom and close the door behind me. My ribs ache and my lungs argue for air. I sit on the edge of the bathtub and bury my teary cheeks into my palms.
I shouldn’t enjoy the pain he unleashes as punishment or his demands for more orgasms that make me shake me from the inside out.
“Carina.”
I swallow back a muted sob and quickly wipe my eyes, pretending I’m not unraveling. “Go away,” I mutter, while angling away from his troubled frown to grab a rolled-up towel from the rack.
“Look at me,” he orders, notably keeping his distance.
“No... ”
I hear his sigh and sense his stealthy approach. My heart hammers behind my ribs. This time, he doesn’t abuse his power. Instead, he sets his large hands on my shoulders and slowly maneuvers my torso until we’re face to face. I draw in my lower lip to hide the quiver.
“Why are you crying?” His voice is hoarse with exhaustion. I finally meet his gaze. Mine watery, and his filled with speckles of light like a starry cosmos of genuine concern. “Are you suffering? Do you need painkillers?”
He thumbs my cheek, his touch gently manipulating my skin. Automatically, my face leans into the affectionate sentiment he offers, seeking some sort of comfort in this unusual situation. It’s wrong to assume he cares, but right now, I’d happily hide in a pretense of affection. I need it. As much as I crave his roughness, I desire gentleness too.
“I... I enjoyed it.” I breathe him in, the rich scent of his cologne still haunting his smoky aura. “More than I should.” My confession spins threads of desire between us, met with silence.
Rather than push me away, a hand splays my nape. Firm fingers cage my flushed face before him and snag tangles of messy hair. The power of his entrapment solidifies me. I’m a slave to his touch, now and forever.
His face drops, connecting our foreheads, so the tips of our noses brush against each other. I exhale into him; aware the potency of our bond has skyrocketed with my pulse.
“You’re a hot little thing, you know that?” he says thickly. When I swallow, his lashes blink against my skin. “Fucking you is my favorite thing to do.” And then, without waiting for my shock to settle, he covers my mouth with his.
Soft lips cling there for a few mind-melting moments, the gentle pressure curious as if he's figuring out how tenderness works for him. There’s no clashing teeth or warring tongues. It’s simply an indulgent, soul searching kiss without force or attack. In reality, it’s not simple at all. It’s unbelievably complex and every bit as addictive as the violence he offers.
If I allowed myself to admit it, this softer side of him is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
But it won’t last. We both know it.
“I have something that belongs to you,” I whisper, sharing the same oxygen as him. “Before I give it back, you need to know that I found it. I didn’t steal it.”
His spine goes rigid and his hands fall away like his trust in me is being tested all over again. “What is it?”
25
TOMÁS
She gave me everything and didn’t even know it.
I kissed her without barriers or sky-high walls.
With the euphoria it brought me, a tsunami of guilt crushes my stomach like sharp stones hurled from a tornado. I’ve always been fucked up, ever since the day I shot my uncle in the head, but now I’m beyond fucked up.
I stupidly crept over the threshold, poured gasoline all over the terms, and struck a match to engulf the agreement with flames. I’ve surpassed fucked up and landed in unknown territory without any defenses.
If I let this woman under my skin, it would jeopardize everything, including my family’s legacy. Letting her live under my skin would make marrying another woman impossible. I can’t choose a bloodthirsty war over an emotion I swore I’d never wallow in.