“Did you … fuck her?” She tenses and closes her eyes, as if prepared for the blow, her fingers clinging to my wrists.
It still startles me to hear her say the word fuck. “No.”
Those gorgeous eyes pop open and she releases her hold on me, dropping her arms at her sides. “Tell me the truth,” she demands.
“I am.”
“You didn’t fuck her.”
“No.”
“But you messed around with her.”
“She used me.” I pause. “And I let her.”
“Why?”
I don’t have an answer.
“You’ll hurt me,” she continues, her voice clear and true. “I know you will. This won’t end well.”
I can’t talk about endings or beginnings or any of that shit. All I can focus on is the here and now. With her. “Tonight I just want to make you feel good.” And that’s the truth. The only bit of truth I can offer her. “Let me, Violet.”
She closes her eyes tightly, her thick, dark eyelashes smashed together, and I swear I see a hint of wetness there. I can’t take it if she cries. The only one responsible for her tears will be me and I can’t face that. “I just want to forget,” she murmurs.
“Forget what?” I bend my head and press my lips to her temple, slide them down to her cheek as I push my hands into her silky hair. Her skin is soft and fragrant and I feel the tremor that runs through her. I want to ease her pain. I want to bring her pleasure. I want to put my mouth on her pussy and make her come with my tongue. I want to watch her wrap those pretty lips around my cock and feel her suck me deep.
I want it all. And I don’t deserve any of it.
“Everything. My life. Professionally everything’s great. But personally, I’m kind of a mess.” She parts her lips on a startled sigh when I offer a lingering kiss to the side of her mouth. “I hate that I’m jealous over the fact that you smell like Pilar. I don’t own you. I have no right to feel this way.”
“I’ll take off my clothes,” I suggest, and the faintest smile curves her lips, urging me on. “Don’t worry about Pilar,” I reassure her. “She can’t hurt you.”
Liar.
Not really, because I’m the one who’s going to hurt her. And if I don’t, Pilar will hurt me.
Violet cracks her eyes open, staring at me. “I’m more worried about you. What you’re doing to me.”
Again, she’s proving just how smart she is. She should be worried about me. I will wreck her, there’s no doubt about that. “What am I doing to you now?” I tuck a wavy strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, then trace the delicate shell. I want to spend hours touching her. Kissing her. This is my last chance, and I plan on savoring every little stolen moment.
“You make me feel … too much.” She turns her head the slightest bit, our lips in alignment, but I don’t kiss her. And she doesn’t kiss me. It’s as if we’re both prolonging the anticipation. “It scares me.”
“You scare me, too,” I whisper before I press my mouth to hers in a chaste kiss. Her lips move beneath mine and I kiss her again. And again. Sweet, sensual kisses, our lips parting with every pass, my tongue darting out to lick at her upper lip before she pulls away.
I stare at her, my heart accelerating, my lips tingling. I don’t kiss other women like that. All soft and loving and shit. Not my style.
But with Violet, I … want to be soft. And, Christ help me, loving.
Fuck. I’m in way too deep.
“I need you naked,” she says, her hands shoving at the hem of my shirt so it rises halfway up my stomach. “I can’t … you need to get your clothes off.”
I understand why she’s doing this. I smell like Pilar’s perfume and she doesn’t like it. I can’t blame her. Stepping out of her reach, I tear off my shirt and kick off my shoes at the same time before I undo my jeans, shoving them off my hips along with my underwear so everything ends up in a heap beside me. I hold my arms out to my sides, like an offering to her, and all I can hope is that she’ll take me.
That she’ll want me.
“This is me,” I say solemnly. “This is who I am.”
Her gaze drifts all over me, landing on my tattoos, my piercings, then lower, until she’s staring at my erect cock. “Who are you really?” she asks as her eyes meet mine once more.
“I’m … just a man. A man who fucks up, who makes mistakes and sometimes doesn’t think. I’m reckless. I’m arrogant. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I grew up fast and didn’t have a real childhood.” I pause, not sure how much more I should say. I don’t want to scare her before I get my one last chance. “I … don’t know how to love.”
She blinks, her gaze never leaving mine. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t have a mother. I don’t know who she is. My dad treated me like I was nothing but a burden.” And when I grew older, I turned into his drinking and let’s-troll-for-hot-chicks buddy. It wasn’t a healthy relationship, and that’s an understatement. “I’ve never had a real relationship.”
“What about Pilar?”
“It’s complicated. Hard to define.” Our relationship confuses everyone, including me.
“What about me?” she asks quietly.
“What about you?”