Page 42 of Ruthless Sin
I press my wrist against his palm.
“Cristo.”
The sheet shifts. His hips. I did not see it. I heard the fabric.
He is hard, the shape of him under the sheet between us, and he cannot hide it.
My thighs press together. A pulse there sharp enough that my hips shift again. Involuntary.
He hears.
I turn my hand over. Slow. Until my palm is against his palm.
“Brava.” Wrecked. “So fucking brave,cara.”
His hand stays open under mine. The fingers do not close. He is letting me hold him.
A long silence holds, and I can hear how hard he is breathing inside it.
“Spi.” Sleep.
The voice that has been coming through my door for weeks, now an arm’s length away with gravel in it I didn’t know was there.
The heat between my thighs sharpens. My hips shift again. I cannot stop them.
A sound starts in my throat. I close it behind my teeth.
He hears it, and his hand under mine goes rigid, every muscle pulled tight, but the palm stays open.
His breathing is ragged.
“Whatever you’re feeling,cara.” Rough. “You’re allowed. I’m not moving. I’m staying right here.”
I will leave before dawn.
My palm against his palm. His bare chest a foot from my back. The lamp on low. His breath coming wrong behind me. I am here and he is not allowed to touch me. We are both paying for it.
He doesn’t go quiet. His breathing doesn’t slow.
“Nico.”
It comes out cracked and small and whole.
The first time I have said his name aloud.
He does not turn his head.
His inhale stops halfway. Has to restart.
“Sono qui, cara mia.” Whispered. I’m here, my dear one. “Sleep,milaya. I have you.”
His hand under mine is open. The fingers do not close.
I press my palm harder against his.
A sound against his teeth.
“Brava. Whatever you need. I am yours.”
