Chapter 13 Viviana
VIVIANA
The moon’s pale light bathes the bedroom in a dim glow, secluding us in blissful intimacy—the only witness to our forbidden encounters.
Tristan has spun a web of passion around my body, trapping my soul. I am his in a way I didn’t even think was possible. My feelings for him transcend the physical.
I’ve always wanted to belong. Now, I belong to him.
I wish, and not for the first time, to be someone else, so I could be completely his. This wondrous man with a dark side captivates me.
Ironic that I would fall in love with someone who is just as fascinating as he is mysterious, someone I can read so well, yet every new thing I discover swallows me deeper into his sinful world.
Within the walls of this house, nothing can touch me. Nothing but his ardent desire and fiery passion. Only him.
God, it’s addictive—the salacious way he uses my body, stretches me beyond my capacity, pushes me further into decadent pleasure, leaving me gasping for more.
Sated and satisfied, I lie on his chest. He places a gentle kiss on the top of my head, his hand brushing down my spine.
“Was it too much?” he asks in that deep voice of his that awakens goose bumps on my skin.
“Considering I still can’t move.” I giggle.
“I’ll carry you,” he says assuredly, tugging at my heartstrings, playing an endless love song for him.
Every day without seeing him edges toward unbearable agony. I crave more of these stolen moments, more of this rampant passion, more of this unbound love lighting up my entire being.
Greedy, that’s what I am for him when even our weekends thrust me deeper into doom’s arms. The consequences could be deadly. He makes me forget the risks so masterfully.
I sigh, the sound reverberating through me with crippling sadness.
“What is it, mo run?”
“Nothing.”
He groans low in his throat. “That’s not how nothing sounds.”
“Ignore it.”
“I can’t ignore anything related to you,” he says, voice coated in seriousness, snatching the last pieces of my heart.
He’s just as greedy for me, I guess, for everything I could offer him and more.
“I’ll miss you,” I murmur, trying to cheer myself up.
I’ll spend some time with my sister, and I’ll get to see my niece. It’s been a while, and I miss my family. Usually, it wouldn’t bother me to pretend, but after discovering how it is to be freely and unapologetically myself, the idea threatens to dampen the visit.
“Just for a while longer,” he says into my hair, inhaling me.
My heart clenches at his refusal to understand or accept the impossibility of us.
“Tristan,” I say through a stuttered breath. “Please, I told you why we can’t be. Let’s just…”
He scoots himself against the headboard, and I change my position to a cross-legged one. “Just what?”
He’s so stubborn. But apparently, so am I.
I arch a brow, looking him dead in the eye. “I will end up in an arranged marriage. Something I have no say in.”
“So, you’ll leave me?” His deep voice carries a dare that sends a chill down my spine.
Not of my own accord, and he knows it damn well.
“You think I would allow that?”
There it is again, the darkness cracking the facade, slipping through like venomous snakes ready to pounce and strike the frail bubble.
“It doesn’t matter.” I raise my hands in the air in a show of frustration, but they drop just as fast. “I’ll do what I have to do.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw, hard enough that his teeth gnash. “Such a good girl, aren’t we?”
How I associate that with our sexual encounter is truly disturbing, especially since he said it to annoy me.
“Maybe…” I can’t even bring myself to finish the sentence. What exactly? Take a break, break up. Ugh, I am a freaking mess.
“I would be very careful in your place, mo run. I haven’t ruled out kidnapping,” he says so low, sending a throb to pulse between my thighs.
“Funny.”
He cast an intense look. “That wasn’t meant as a joke.”
I gulp. “Tristan, at times I think…”
He cocks his head, jerking his chin at me. “What baby? That I am no fucking better than the men in your family?”
There’s a dark challenge burning in his eyes, daring me to see what lurks in the shadows.
Am I ready to acknowledge that? Then what?
It’s going to be bloody and messy. And I wanted…
I don’t even know what I wanted. It seems ages ago when I envisioned my love story.
It was sweet and innocent. Ours is a mighty storm, passionate in its ravaging capacity.
Needing a moment to clear my head, I slip out of bed.
“You’re pushing me on purpose,” I say while looking out the window.
The full moon reflects in the foam of the waves crashing against the shore, just like the agony inside my chest.
His arms snake around my belly, and he places his chin on my shoulder. “I want you to understand that there’s only one outcome. You will be mine.”
I continue to stare, subdued by the unfairness of our situation.
Fighting won’t help.
Making him see reason even less.
He’s set to think we have a future, and I am too weak for him to burst our serene bubble, especially since the end graces me with a delay. I don’t know whether I should feel grateful or cuss it out.
“I would love that,” I say instead, turning in his arms.
He lifts me by the waist and doesn’t stop kissing me as he brings me back to bed, where he makes love to me, all night long so that I feel the imprint of his cock in my pussy, the feel of his hands on my skin, his lips on mine, shaping me into his from the inside out.