8. Aurora
8
Aurora
Call me spoiled, but I’ve grown used to always getting whatever I wanted.
When it comes to Rocco, I get this craving when I’m near him, one that I have no strength to control.
Ren doesn’t make getting near him very easy.
Like a pest, he lingers in the shadows, knowingly present and watching.
I get it. Rocco’s around twice my age.
He’s the first guy I’ve been around, and wanting what I want could be because of the separation from the rest of the world.
But it’s not. I’ve scrolled through photos of men before, thumb hovering over pixels of sharp jawlines and practiced smiles.
Stolen chats in dimly lit rooms when Ren wasn’t looking.
Clinical. Curious.
None of them has made me feel like this.
Made me want to go against what is normal.
Rebel against Ren.
Rocco is not an image to linger on.
Not a fantasy to tuck away.
He’s heat and havoc, turning my stomach into a battlefield of fluttering wings every time he steps too close.
His fingers sometimes graze a limb attached to my body, and my toes curl against the floorboards.
And the worst part?
He knows.
Smirks when I stiffen at his touch.
Leans in just to watch my breath hitch.
Plays with fire while Ren’s growls rumble from the shadows like distant thunder whenever he isn’t occupied.
The problem is, Rocco won’t finish what he starts.
He’ll get me squirming before he’s pulling out his phone, claiming it’s because he has to deal with issues relating to work.
I must be spoiled. His leaving me so achy makes me want to throw a fit, demanding his attention.
Not just a portion of it, or for a limited time.
I want all of it.
Somehow, I survive waiting for the right opportunity to come my way to do something about my frustration.
Ren can’t avoid his job forever.
Unlike our father, who got his hands dirty in anything addictive, Ren wanted authenticity.
Sure, gambling can have its own addictions, but no one is dying from it.
I don’t think so, anyway.
When someone calls him with bad news, about missing revenue, he has to leave.
He’s not willing to drag me out of our home to keep me away from temptations, and Rocco is too busy with his own work to tag along.
I’ve never lied to Ren in my life, but when I tell him I’ll be on my best behavior, I know I’m not being completely honest. He’d never think that I’d make the first move.
And with Rocco being as busy as he’s been, I’m sure my brother still trusts him one way or another.
When he finally leaves, I wait until I hear the tires of his car catch all the loose gravel.
In the clear, I’m on the move without any hesitation.
I’m a partial believer in fate.
My belief has only grown since his arrival.
How else can I explain the perfect alignment of it all—Ren called away on business, the house silent but for the drip-drip-drip of Rocco’s shower down the hall?
Coincidence?
Please .
The universe doesn’t make mistakes like this—doesn’t leave a woman alone with a man who looks at her like she’s both sacrament and sin unless it’s intentional.
I move fast, my bare feet padding across our home as I head from one end of our home to the other.
Steam curls under the bathroom door like an invitation.
I press my palm to the fogged wood.
The shower’s hiss is continuous, giving no hint that it will end anytime soon.
On the inside, I know what I want to do.
However, just because I want it doesn’t make it very easy to have the courage to go through with satisfying my needs.
After telling myself that I’m only going to have one chance with this, to do anything without having an audience, I push open the door.
The glass belonging to the shower is foggy, giving away only the outline of Rocco’s body.
He’s got his arms lifted above his head as he washes his hair.
“Care for company?” My voice wobbles as the steam fills my lungs with my next slow inhale.
Even though he’s using the same product that we all do, something about it smells different.
He’s always made everything that way.
Rocco pauses his movement before flattening his palm against the glass.
Swiping his hand across, he clears the film and reveals the same dark gaze that haunts my dreams.
“Angel, I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.” He rumbles with a chuckle, and I see the smile on his lips.
He’s stating the obvious, playing it safe.
“Ren left.” Stepping away from the door, I don’t let the lack of strength in my legs hold me back.
Instead, I sink my thumbs into the band of my shorts and shove them down my hips.
With my shorts, my underwear goes down with them.
His smile dips away, but his stare remains.
Humming my nickname again, there’s a little warning behind it.
Once I cross this line laid between us, there’s no going back.
Little does he know, the moment he entered this house, we became entangled in the other.
There is no going back.
My skin prickles as I pull off my shirt next, leaving my skin bare and exposed.
Once the fabric hits my feet, I’m left to be devoured by his gaze.
My nipples harden, and the heat in my stomach drips lower as he takes in every inch.
“Can I join you?” I ask once more, my voice growing softer.
I don’t expect him to reject me despite how much attention he’s been giving his phone lately, but the chance is still there.
The doubt is always hiding in the corners of my mind.
Instead of giving me an answer straight away, he’s shoving the door open, not minding the droplets of water escaping through the gap.
Then I see him too, all of him.
The steam curls around him, clinging to his olive skin, glistening under the water.
He’s muscled, broad-shouldered, his body wet and slick with a few stubborn suds trailing down his chest.
The heat of the shower flushes his skin, and his gaze—dark, hungry—locks onto me as he steps back, making space without a single word.
Water trails down the hard planes of his stomach, over the defined V leading lower, and my breath catches.
He’s fully hard, the proof of his desire unmistakable.
A slow smirk plays on his lips, daring, inviting.
“Well?” His voice is rough, thick with want.
“Are you coming or am I going to have to make you?”
Breath hitching, I nod and step toward the shower.
Once I’m inside, he’s pushing the door shut and giving me room to stand beneath the heat of the stream.
Rocco isn’t shy when it comes to enjoying the view.
In fact, he makes this low growling sound that goes straight toward my pussy.
“Aurora, you’re making it harder and harder to believe you’re innocent.” His eyes follow my hands as I move to wash my hair.
“You’re fully aware of what you’re doing, aren’t you?”
I never said I was innocent.
Nor am I ignorant. I’ve spent plenty of my life wanting things, down to the point of doing my own research while using my imagination to its fullest.
“I may have an idea,” I murmur as I move to wash the suds away.
Once my hair is clean, I move to wash my body.
Rocco is happy to intervene.
“Let me.” Stepping forward, he scoops the dark blue liquid from my palm before rubbing his hands together, creating more suds.
“Come here. I want to make sure you’re washed thoroughly.”
I move toward him without thinking, his voice all the demand I need.
He doesn’t touch where I’m throbbing the most, not at first. Instead, he takes one of my arms. Dragging his fingers along the length of my limb, he makes every inch tingle as he does the very same to the other arm.
Stepping closer, I close my eyes and feel his hands move to my back.
“You’re soft everywhere,” he murmurs, more to himself.
“A complete opposite of me.”
I enjoy feeling his hard chest brushing against mine.
His bobbing erection isn’t unnoticed either, brushing against my thighs as he drags his hands lower.
A soft gasp leaves my lips as he moves to cup my ass.
Kneading the muscles, his fingers inch closer to my pussy.
Can he feel how hot I am?
He must. I feel each throb of his cock as he continues to touch.
Just when I think he’ll finally give me some relief, his hands move back toward my hips.
“Turn around for me.”
I’m dizzy as I follow his order.
As my back presses against his chest, he’s spreading suds against my chest.
His front vibrates in approval as I press against his cock, my body not hiding how badly I want him.
Rocco has more patience than I do.
He’s cleaning my body, just as he said he would.
If he’s not quicker with it, I might have to figure out a way to move this along on my own.