Chapter 5 #3
I think of Romeo, and how close we came the summer of the lightning strike. I wanted him to...more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. But we never got the chance.
“No,” I whisper.
“Good.”
A low sound of approval vibrates through his modulator, weighted with a significance I don’t quite understand. Before I can make sense of it, his lips brush against mine, and butterflies erupt in my stomach.
My first taste of him is a rush of cinnamon and heat, melting through my body and leaving me drunk.
His mouth moves against mine, the quiet intensity drawing a shuddering exhalation from my lungs. He breathes it in with a longing that sparks through my veins, catching fire as it spreads between us.
The soft moan that spills out of me unleashes something inside Eros, and he grips my face with rough fingers, deepening the kiss.
A dizzying wave of desire crashes over me, and a fleeting thought enters my mind. This is more than chemistry.
It feels like starvation.
That desperate ache claws through me as I seek out more of his body, hands fisting the material of his hoodie. I pull him closer, and his erection presses between my thighs—long, thick, and painfully hard.
We’re both fully clothed, but I can’t stop myself from rubbing against his heat. A feral sound rips from his throat as he grinds into me, severing the last thread of his restraint.
His tongue sweeps past my parted lips and into my mouth, the kiss consuming me in a feverish haze.
I whimper, and he swallows the sound, his hands roaming over my body like it’s all he’s ever thought about.
There’s something so primal about the way he touches me. It isn’t just want. It’s possession.
“Fuck, Gabriela.” His words hum with static, almost too low to hear. “You’ll never do this with anyone else.”
“Don’t stop.” I press into him, fingers slipping beneath his hoodie until I feel the scorching heat of his back.
He groans, and the sound lights up my brain.
I wrap my legs around him, the friction between our bodies burning me up. Tension draws his muscles tight as his breaths grow shallower. His teeth scrape over my lip, and he lets out a muffled curse as a tremor passes through him.
Then, without warning, his hand stills my hip, fingers biting into my leggings as his body jerks.
His abs contract against me as a guttural sound bleeds out of him, the seconds stretching on until only pulsing aftershocks remain.
It takes me a moment to register what just happened, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out the obvious.
“Did you just come…from kissing me?”
A rough sound of amusement pulls from his chest as his forehead dips against mine.
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a long time.”
“You have?”
“Yeah.” He rocks against me, still hard.
That small amount of friction reignites the ache inside me, and I’m not sure how to vocalize it, but I don’t have to.
“I want to make you come.” He teases the words against my lips.
I hum my approval, and he gives me another slow, drugging kiss before his lips trail a path down my throat. My heart thumps erratically, goosebumps skittering over me at the ghost of his touch.
With a heated slide of his hands, he drags my fuzzy sweater up and peels it off my body.
A current of anticipation thrums beneath my skin as he pauses to map my soft curves, feeling every slight dip and hollow within his reach.
His fingers flutter over my rib cage, seemingly fascinated by the composition as he commits the details to memory.
It’s strange, but the depth of his attention is so addictive, I’d let him measure every bone in my body if he felt like it.
He traces the hem of my cropped tank top, fingers skimming beneath it as a shiver follows in his wake. When he palms my bare breast, a shock of electricity ripples through me.
“No bra, Gabriela?”
Something dark and menacing laces his tone, like he’s both pleased and irritated by this development.
“I don’t always wear them,” I confess.
I find them uncomfortable, and my breasts aren’t huge, so I can get away with it most of the time.
“Hmm.” The sound reverberates through me before his tongue lashes my nipple.
A hushed gasp falls from my lips as my head rolls back, my fingers threading through his hair reflexively.
“You like that?” The warmth of his breath tickles my skin.
“Yes.” The word catches in my throat when he sucks me into his mouth.
My spine bows in offering—a singular thought looping through my mind. It can’t possibly get better than this. It almost feels too good to be true.
At any moment now, I’m expecting my lizard brain to surface, reminding me of my discomfort with physical touch. But he disproves that theory when he slips his hand beneath the band of my leggings and into my underwear.
His palm drifts between my thighs, and the first whisper of contact short-circuits my nervous system.
“So fucking wet for me,” he rasps.
He slides through my arousal, teasing me with a torturous pace as his thumb circles my clit. My thoughts blur at the edges as I roll my hips unconsciously, chasing the high blooming inside me.
“More?” The rough timbre of his voice scrapes over me, unraveling my self-control.
I sink my teeth into my lip, murmuring a string of nonsense. “Yes, please…thank you.”
A quiet laugh rumbles through his chest. “Okay, little shark. I’ll give you more.”
I’m embarrassingly needy, but I don’t care. After so much build up, I’m desperate for relief.
When he slowly sinks two fingers inside me, stretching me apart, I clench around him. That feeling of pressure is new to me, and it sends me spiraling when the friction of his thumb increases, exactly where I need it.
The combination makes me squirm, so much sensory overload, I’m going to burst. I feel him everywhere. The solid press of his body. His breath coasting over my skin. His scent wrapping around me.
Those details imprint on me as he whips me into a frenzy, his tongue lashing at my nipple as he works me over with his fingers. The overwhelm of the day collides with the tension in my body, awakening every nerve.
I’m strung so tight my muscles burn as I struggle to breathe. It’s too much and still not enough.
Then, all at once, it explodes, a cascade of pleasure rolling down my spine and rippling through me. The release pulls a broken sound from my lungs as endless spasms rack my body.
Eros draws it out, wringing everything from me until the last aftershock has passed. When I have nothing left to give, he releases my nipple and withdraws his fingers, leaving me boneless as I melt into the bed.
I feel like I’m floating on a cloud as I laze in the afterglow, wondering how it’s possible to experience so much bliss.
If this is what it’s like for everyone, I don’t know how they ever get anything else done.
But somehow, I suspect that this kind of chemistry is the exception, rather than the rule.
Eros shifts above me, pulling his hand free from my leggings. As I’m considering what the protocol is for the mess I left on him, I hear the unmistakable sound of him sucking his fingers into his mouth.
Another low groan rolls through him, and I feel it between my legs.
“Did you just—”
“Yes, Gabriela.” A thread of possession darkens his voice. “And if I trusted myself not to lose control, I’d bury my face between your thighs right now and make you come again.”
A flush of heat spreads over me, my body clenching in response. I don’t see a problem with that idea, but apparently, he’s still planning to take it slow.
He pulls my tank top back down and frees my hand from beneath his hoodie, pressing a kiss to the beating pulse in my wrist. When he releases me, there’s a rustle of clothing, and I think he’s putting his mask back on.
A moment later, he leans over to grab the remote, lifting the drapes back up. A feeling of uncertainty settles in my chest, and I verbalize the thought before I can stop myself.
“You aren’t leaving, are you?”
“No.”
A shaky exhalation pulls from my lungs, and I’m slightly embarrassed at how much I needed to hear that.
Just for tonight, I tell myself.
I don’t want to be alone.
“Are you sore?” His fingers feather over my jaw.
It takes a beat to register that he’s asking about what happened earlier tonight. I shift slightly, noting that I am a little achy, but I probably won’t feel the full extent of it until tomorrow.
“Do you want a bath?” he asks.
I consider it, wondering if he already knows I like baths, or it’s a coincidence. Either way, I’m too exhausted to think of one right now.
“No, I just have to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth.”
He nods, helping me sit up, then surprises me when he lifts me into his arms again.
“I can walk,” I say half-heartedly.
I actually don’t want to. In fact, I think I would be okay if he just carries me everywhere I want to go from now on.
He doesn’t indulge my argument and hauls me into the bathroom, but once we get there, he lingers like he isn’t sure what to do with me.
“You can set me down.”
Reluctantly, he does. Then he stands there, staring at me.
“I…umm, have to pee,” I announce.
“Okay.”
He hesitates another second, and I can’t be sure, but it feels like he’s being protective of me. Either that, or he’s as awkward as I am.
“I’ll get you some water from the kitchen,” he says.
“My guard—” I begin to protest when he cuts me off.
“He’s asleep.”
“How do you know?”
He doesn’t answer, but I get the impression he’s smirking beneath that mask.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He shuts the door as he leaves, and I go about my business.
When I re-enter the room, he’s not back yet, so I rummage through my pajama drawer.
Usually, I’d also drag out the giant stuffed teddy bear Romeo won me at the fair.
I told Abella I use it as a body pillow, and that’s true, but it also offers me a comfort I can’t really explain.
Tonight, I’ll have to change my routine and go without it. That thought makes me feel slightly off balance, but it will be worth it to have Eros here.
I dress in a matching set of pink pajamas and sit on the bed, unsure of what to do with myself.
Do I lie down, or is that too casual? Or should I scroll on my phone like I’m not just waiting for him? Is he even still here, or did he decide I’m too much and bail already?
The only thing I’ve managed to conclude when he does reappear is that I seriously need Overthinkers Anonymous.
He brings me a bottle of water, and I thank him, opening it up to take a sip as my eyes roam over him. The room is still dark, but in the moonlight, I could almost swear his pants look different. But that doesn’t make sense. How would he have changed them?
Silence stretches between us, and I’m not sure why, but I feel even more unsocialized than usual.
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” I force out. “I’ll be okay.”
I expect him to take the offer and run, but instead, he tips my face up to his mask.
“Don’t do that,” he says, tension edging his voice. “Not with me. I want the real you—always.”
I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat, nodding slowly. In his own way, he’s asking me not to mask around him. The problem is, I’ve been doing it so long, it’s become second nature.
“Lie down,” he tells me.
“You’re very bossy,” I remark, even as I do what he says.
“I don’t hear you complaining.”
Honestly, I can’t argue with that.
I expect him to join me, but something holds him back.
“Before we go any further, I need to show you something.”
“Okay,” I answer hesitantly, confused by the rigid set of his body.
“That’s for you.” He points at a knife sheath he must have attached to my nightstand. “If you ever feel unsafe, I want you to know you can use that.”
“I don’t think they’re going to come here,” I tell him. “Besides, they couldn’t get in even if they did.”
“It’s not for them,” he says. “It’s for anyone who could be a threat, including me.”
I don’t really understand, but I can only assume he thinks I’m still freaked out by what happened.
“It’s small, but sharp, so don’t take it out unless you need it,” he instructs me. “And if you do use it, go for the throat. It’s the fastest way to incapacitate someone.”
“I don’t know if this is supposed to be romantic or deranged.” I laugh awkwardly.
“I just want you to have it,” he insists. “In case you need it.”
“Alright. Well, thanks?”
I’m not sure how I feel about sleeping with a knife next to my bed, but I guess it can’t hurt.
Once he sees that I’ve accepted his strange gift, he climbs over me and tugs me against him. His arm wraps around my waist, the warmth of his body soaking into mine.
“Tell me if it gets to be too much,” he says.
I nod, but somehow, I don’t think it will. I feel safe, and what I think is contentment. But beneath that, a bitter pang of guilt lingers—because I shouldn’t be happy. Not when I’ve ruined Romeo’s life.
I should tell Eros to go. But before I can verbalize it, a dozen other arguments materialize until exhaustion pulls me under.
At some point, I hear him slip out of bed and open the door to my room. I want to ask where he’s going, but I never quite get the words out. I drift in and out of sleep, and when he returns, it disorients me, because it felt like he was gone for hours.
When daylight spills through the windows and I open my eyes again, the space beside me is empty.
I sit up with a groan as a hollow feeling settles in my chest. It’s not as if I expected him to be here, but I don’t like the idea of him leaving without a goodbye.
Except, when I glance at the nightstand, I realize he didn't. He left a note for me, along with some painkillers and a fresh bottle of water.
Breakfast is in the fridge.
I walked your dog.
Get some rest today, little shark.
I read the words a few times, shooting Beppe a questioning glance. It seems he feels safe enough to venture off with Eros too.
Curious, I wrap myself in a bathrobe and pad down to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door. When I see what’s waiting for me inside, it reminds me of the things I never addressed last night.
Eros showed up at that house without any explanation of how he found me, and he knew where I lived. He also knew how to access the building, and exactly where my room was.
And now, apparently, he knows my favorite breakfast is a yogurt parfait from a local bakery.
For the first time since I’ve known him, a sliver of uncertainty moves through me.
This is confirmation. He’s not just a stranger I met online.
I think he’s also…my stalker.