The Spanish Love Deception

My lips parted, and all I managed was a weak shake of my head.

An approving hum left Aaron. That sound alone did crazy, dang

erous things to my belly.

“You want my touch then.”

I did. Oh God, did I ever. But—

“Good.”

His fingers trickled down my throat, reaching the neckline of my sleeping T-shirt, liquefying every rational thought. But there was a warning in my head somewhere, something I should be remembering.

“Aaron,” I whispered.

The contact of his skin against mine was so gentle, so impossibly delicate, and yet it had the power to make me lose my mind. To ignite something in me. Just how he had proven ever since the fundraiser.

“Aaron,” I repeated.

His fingers halted, lifting off my skin right above my collarbone. I felt the loss of his touch immediately.

“What are we doing?” I asked, sounding desperate to my own ears. I released all the air in my lungs very slowly, grieving the way I had felt a heartbeat ago. But this was important. I had to say something to feel safer. To make sense of this. Otherwise, I’d sink under my own weight. I knew I would. “Is this … still pretending?” I swallowed. I hated my own words, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Is this just for practice?”

A loud voice in my head yelled at me to shut up. Not to ruin the moment and to let myself take as much as Aaron was willing to give me. But the truth was that I was terrified. Deep in my bones, I was shaking. Beneath all the ways my body kept reacting to every touch and word and craving more and more all the ones to come, it festered fear.

I felt Aaron’s sigh on my skin, and I was tempted to reach out and latch on to him before he stepped away. I had probably ruined everything.

But he didn’t.

“Would that make you feel better? I’ll pretend a little longer, if that’s what you need.”

“Yes.” The word left my lips in a rush.

I knew I’d come to regret saying that, probably sooner than later. This was a dangerous game. But in that moment, the only thing that seemed to matter was the safe bubble I had created around us. The lifeline I had begged him to throw me, and I was holding on to for dear life. If I inspected Aaron’s words too closely, I’d open my eyes, my brain would start functioning again, and our mouths would be busy talking.

His lips fell on my skin once more, resuming where they had stopped. His mouth skimmed along my jaw, and my heart seemed to come back alive in my chest, making me realize I hadn’t really noticed how it had ceased to beat without his touch.

“I don’t think I’d be able to deny you a single thing if you asked, Catalina.”

He followed that with one openmouthed kiss against the side of my neck, almost ripping a whimper out of me.

My eyelids must have fluttered because Aaron said, “No. Don’t open them yet.”

And I didn’t. I couldn’t. Aaron was in absolute control of my body now.

“Good girl. Keep them closed.” He brushed another openmouthed kiss as a reward. “We’ll play this game a little longer.”

My stomach plummeted to my feet in response.

“For practice purposes,” he said, and the hand that was cupping my head started trailing down, down, down over my clothes, stopping on my waist and leaving a burning path behind. It sent my head spinning. “I can show you exactly what it would be like.”

I felt him fisting the fabric of my shirt, as if he was stopping himself from doing more. Then releasing it and returning his palm to my waist.

“If you were really mine, I’d do this all the time.” His long fingers draped around my hip and pushed me against him from the waist down. Hot—he felt so hot and hard, branding my skin, even with layers of fabric separating us.

“If you were mine, you’d crave this.” He then closed the rest of the distance that separated us very slowly. Bringing our bodies flush together with such softness and at such a painful pace that I praised and cursed him at the same time. “You’d welcome this. You would want it.”

And wasn’t I doing all those things?