Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rayna
Rayna
Don’t forget a condom.
Istare down at my last text to my potential husband for far too long, only stopping once the door bell rings.
I make my way to it quickly, refusing to let him think I’m nervous or having second thoughts.
Yordan is out for the day, doing more physical therapy-like stretching with Elio and Javi, making today the perfect opportunity for our… trial.
Apollo waltzes into the apartment as soon as I open the door for him.
He doesn’t wait for an invitation inside, nor does he feel the need to exchange formal pleasantries.
I try not to appear rattled, shutting the door and locking it behind him.
When I turn around though, there’s no possibility of hiding my shock.
Stood just down the hall, Apollo’s gaze is on me, waiting for me to join him in the area between the living room and kitchen.
His suit jacket is already off, slung over the back of the couch lazily.
As I take a step toward him, he begins to work on his cuffs.
Never moving his gaze off me, he unbuttons them like second nature.
I gulp, attempting to muster up my bravery.
But…holy shit.
He’s here, and he looks ready. There isn’t a hint of doubt lacing his expression. Gone is his usually guarded and grumpy demeanor, the only vibe he’s putting out is one of pure hunger.
I almost expected him to back out of this, to have woken up this morning and decided marrying me was a ridiculous idea. But here he is, looking at me with desire in his captivating, icy blue eyes. My hands feel clammy as I stop in front of him, biting my lip in contemplation.
“Don’t look so scared, micina. This was your idea, after all.”
“I’m not scared,” I fib, swallowing hard. “I just didn’t expect you to be so, um, ready.”
“Did you want a foreplay trial as well, then? Should I have taken you to dinner first?” He arches a brow. “I was under the impression that I was here to prove I could make you come, not romance you into bed. Was I wrong?”
“No,” I bite out, fingers flexing. “There’s no need for that. There will be nothing truly romantic about our union—if it even happens.”
“Whatever you say, love.”
My eyes narrow, catching a hint of a patronizing tone. “Get used to saying that, darling.”
“My, my, Rayna.” He chuckles. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d just implied that I’ll be your doting husband soon. I thought you were confident I couldn’t please you? Are you sure you didn’t ask for this trial simply to engage in premarital debauchery? You only needed to ask, darling.”
My hackles rise, irritated with the smug grin he’s sporting. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“You’re about to be full of me, too, sweetheart,” he drawls. “So, I guess we have that in common.”
“And it will be a lot more enjoyable if you stopped fucking talking,” I snap.
Despite how easily he pisses me off, he’s also working me up.
If I couldn’t feel the heat coiling in my belly so evidently, I would never believe it.
I’ve argued with Apollo countless times before, and never did he ever make me feel this way.
Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, or the way his collar is looser than normal.
Or maybe, he’s always got you going and you’ve been too stubborn to admit it.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you’ll find you like my voice in your ear when I’m driving you to the brink of madness with my—”
“If you’re going to keep undressing, we should go upstairs. I don’t want Yordan to come home and find a cufflink under the couch.”
His lips twitch, finding my interruption amusing.
“As you wish.”
The tension is palpable as we ascend to the second floor. Not a word goes exchanged for the entire journey, not even as Apollo lets my bedroom door fall shut.
“Your room is more pink than I would have imagined,” he finally comments, breaking the silence.
“Spend a lot of time imagining my bedroom, do you?”
“Only when I’m in my own, fist wrapped around my—”
“You’re lying.”
“—cock,” he finishes, smirking. “Do you have a problem with that word, micina? That’s the second time you tried to stop me from saying it. And I assure you, there’s no need to lie. I’ve fucked my hand thinking about you more than once. Especially after our dalliance in the hospital.”
“I don’t have a problem with the word, you’re just talking too much.” I sigh, feigning boredom. As if the information he just shared hasn’t knocked me off my axis.
Apollo Moretti has jerked off while thinking of me. Jesus Christ, what kind of fever dream am I having?
There’s no way I would admit to him that I’d done the same. Shamefully getting myself off under my covers at night, fingers drenched inside of my panties while I wished my hand was his.
“Oh, is that right?” he challenges, tilting his head. “Pleasantries out of the way then.”
“Can they really be called pleasantries when they’re words coming from your mouth?” I get the words out, but the biting tone dies on my tongue as Apollo begins to unbutton his shirt. He makes quick work of the dark fabric, uncovering his abdomen and eventually his arms.
He’s ridiculously chiseled, body littered with carved ridges and muscular bumps. His tanned skin looks soft and smooth, only broken up by the occasional healed scar. Even his body hair looks soft.
“Don’t be so hard on my mouth.” His husky voice breaks me out of my gawking. “I promise you’ll have an entirely new attitude toward it once I plant it between your legs.”
I blink, feeling an undeniable throb that has me squeezing my thighs closer together.
“Come here.” He motions to the space in front of him before holding out a hand.
I could argue with him. I could make every bit of this process more difficult for him, but I honestly don’t want to.
I’m supposed to give this a fair shot, and I already feel like I’ve bickered enough.
Today is meant to be about me and my pleasure.
God knows it’s been far too long since a man put his hands on my body with the intent of satisfying it.
So, I don’t resist Apollo’s order. I allow my feet to carry me closer, and reach out slowly.
His hand surrounds the back of my knuckles, guiding me forward without another word.
He presses my open palm against his stomach, his muscles tensing slightly at my touch.
Warmth radiates from his skin to mine, and I breathe out, allowing myself to enjoy it.
He loosens his grip, allowing my fingers to glide over his middle and up to his chest. He’s hairier than I would’ve expected, but I find myself drawn to the dark thatches of black curls that grow from his chest. Thinner, lighter hair peppers down his stomach, darkening once again when it passes his belly button.
My nails gently brush over his nipple, prompting a scatter of gooseflesh to bloom.
I lick my lips, savoring the reaction as my hand instinctively moves down.
Wandering fingers draw up and down the contoured V that leads to his waistband.
My eyes grow hooded and heavy as I notice the bulge in his slacks. The temptation to let my fingers trace a lower path builds, but it’s interrupted by Apollo’s next command.
“Lift your arms.”
“I’m not as fit as you are,” I warn him, slowly extending my arms toward the ceiling.
“If I wanted rough and muscular edges, I’d find someone at the gym,” he retorts, hands sliding up my sides. He grips the edges of my shirt and pulls up, ridding me of the fabric without delay. My eyes flutter and my arms drop down as I hesitantly wait for his reaction.
My pink lacy bra doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and if the look on his face is any indicator, Apollo is a fan.
“Did my brother pick that out for you?” he asks, voice shifting dangerously.
“Which one?” I taunt, lifting a brow.
His eyes narrow and I gulp. He didn’t find my quip amusing whatsoever. “I picked out my own underwear. You brought me to the shop, remember? I didn’t even give Armani my bra size for the shopping he did.”
“Good,” he grunts. “Take your pants off.”
“You’re very bossy,” I return, trying not to blush. “You take your pants off first.”
“I told you, Rayna. I’m in control.” He looks me up and down with his pupils blown wide. His gaze is so dark, so promising. “I’ll let this one slide, since I can see your heartbeat pounding in your neck, and I know you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nerv—” The words die on my tongue as he moves.
Apollo reaches for his belt, and my eyes are drawn to the way his pants move away from his body, giving me a peek of more skin.
The spread of dark hair leading below his pants doesn’t seem to end, and I’m thrilled by it.
Dirty videos online are filled with men who are shaved and waxed top to bottom, and I’ve never hated it, but there’s something so masculine about a hairy man’s body.
He normally looks like such a put together mobster.
Clean shaven face, crisp suits, and designer watches.
But this rugged side of him is doing something to me.
He steps out of his slacks and my throat tightens, seeing the way his cock strains against his tight black boxers. His size is evident and intimidating, but enticing too. I want to know how it would feel in my hand, how heavy and full he’d be, and how hot his skin would burn.
My hands itch with the urge to reach out and resume touching him. Ears going hot, I feel my heartbeat thunder as he steps forward, backing me up until my legs brush against my bed.
Apollo reaches for the band of my leggings, eyes locking on my face while he makes short work of removing them. He leaves my lace panties in place and pushes me back, holding me by the back of my neck as he swiftly lowers me into bed.
“Did you wear these for me?” he murmurs, fingers ghosting over the dainty, pale pink fabric covering my sex.