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“You have my word.”
I hear the bedroom door open and I startle.
“Gabriela?” it’s Stefan.
“Just a minute,” I call out. “I have to go,” I whisper to Rafa.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
I disconnect the call, take a moment to calm myself before opening the door.
Stefan is at the balcony doors. “Why did you close these?” he asks. They stand open now.
“No reason.”
He looks me over and I tuck the towel closer. “Have a drink with me before dinner.”
“Dinner already?” I ask, simultaneously looking at the clock to find it’s almost eight. I’m trying to avoid the drink invitation because I’m having a hard time looking at him.
He raises his eyebrows.
“I’m not actually hungry,” I say.
“A drink first. That’ll get your appetite going.”
“Why?”
“Why will it get your appetite going?”
“Why do we need to have a drink.”
“Because we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Christ.” He walks back to the still open bedroom door and pushes it closed. “I’m trying to be civilized,” he says, stalking toward me.
“A civilized mobster.”
His face hardens.
“I don’t want to have a drink with you.”
“That’s too bad.”
I step backward, turning to go into the closet to put on a dress.
“No,” he says, catching my arm.
“Let me go. I’ll get dressed.”
“No.”
“Fine. Christ. You want a drink? I’ll have a drink.”
“What happened, Gabriela?” he asks.
“Nothing. Let me go. I’ll get dressed.”
“No,” he says, tugging me toward him, looking down at where I’m clutching the towel. “Drop it.”
“Why?”
“You told me you wanted to trust me. Trust me.”
I don’t move. So much has happened since I said that. Too much.
“Or do your wants change with the wind? I don’t believe that. I think you’re too complicated for that.”
“Leave me alone, Stefan.”
“No, Gabriela.”
“What do you want from me?”
He comes closer still. Taking my face in his hands, he makes me look at him. “I want all of you.”
I’m taken aback, trying to make sense of his words. I don’t move when he undoes the towel and it drops to the floor. I watch him, try to understand the scope of emotion in his hazel eyes.
He walks backward to the bed, taking me with him. He sits on the edge of it, pulls me to stand between his legs.
From here I can already see the outline of his erection and my body responds.
“You know what the problem is?”
“There’s no problem. I—”
“Problem is you don’t yet know that you’re mine,” he pauses, letting me take in his words. His meaning. “You need to be fucked before we can talk. You need to know it. Feel it. It’s the only way you’ll hear me.”
He traps me with his thighs as he releases my wrists to pull off his T-shirt and undo his belt. His jeans. He doesn’t take himself out yet though. Just sits there like that and I look at him, at all that muscle and power and man.
And I want him.
He softens his hold on me, starts to run the tips of his fingers over the insides of my arms, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His touch is so gentle, so light and soft, so opposite who he is and all the while, he watches me and I watch him, and he’s right. Maybe I’m stupid but he’s right. I do want to trust him. And more than that. I want him, too. I want all of him.
“There’s something wrong with me,” I say.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve just been mistreated. But I see you, Gabriela. I see you. And I won’t hurt you.”
I tug to free myself. This is too much. He’s too much.
He pulls me down onto his lap, one hand cupping the back of my head and bringing me to him to kiss me.
I don’t kiss him back, twisting to free myself instead, but he easily keeps hold of me. I’m straddling him, my legs wide. He slides one hand between them, and my body prepares to betray me.
“I can’t do this.” I have to protect myself. I can’t give myself to him. Hasn’t he proven that?
He tugs my head backward, his fingers working, his mouth on my throat, on my mouth. It’s like my body goes into auto-pilot when he touches me. Like I have no control over it. Like he owns it.
Isn’t that what he’s saying though? That he owns me?
“Stefan.”
He pulls back, and his eyes are dark when I look at them and I forget what I want to say. What I was trying to say.
It’s like he knows it and he grins. A moment later we’re on our knees and he’s still holding me, one hand in my hair, the other cupping my sex.
“Take me out,” he says.
I lick my lips, my gaze dropping to the bulge in his pants. My hands move without my brain’s permission and I take him out, cupping his cock like it’s the Holy Grail. I feel the smooth length of it, smear pre-cum in my palm as I lick my lips again and return my gaze to his.
