“Shhhh. It’s okay. We aren’t responsible for the actions of our parents, right?”
He grunts like he wishes that were true.
My thumbs stroke his stomach. It’s as muscular and firm as the rest of him, though I can’t say I’ve thought about how defined his stomach is until right now. And it’s pretty defined.
“What can I do?”
He shakes his head.
“Do you want your siblings? I can go get Athena.” When I loosen my arms a little, his hand clamps down over both of them. He jerks me against his back.
“No. I don’t need them.”
Does this hotel-esque building have a gym? A punching bag? Does he need to go skating on the ice to clear his head? Or dancing? I’m sure that would help work out some of the knots in his tight muscles. I’m desperate to help him. Every single fiber of my being is screaming to do something to take his agony away, but I don’t know what.
“Tell me what you need,cariño. I want to help.”
He turns to face me, cupping my face with both his hands. The small action was something that brought me great anxiety at first and now the gesture brings such affection and tenderness that I can’t imagine him ever not doing it.
“You are helping.” He kisses me. It’s soft and gentle and over as quickly as it started, but I’m not done. I’m greedy. I need him to kiss me until the sadness in his eyes fades away, until the cheeky grin reappears on his face.
Wrapping my arms around his body, I brace him against me and kiss him again. He pulls back, drops his head to mine and heaves out a sigh.
“Eloise, you’re killing me.”
I ignore his protest and kiss him again. He’s growing hard against my stomach, but I’m nearly sure the tension in the rest of his body is less than it was. If kissing him senseless is what it takes to make him relax a little, then I’m absolutely going to do it. It’s the only thing I have left to try.
He’s murmuring against my neck, telling me how much he loves me, how much he needs me, and how I’m his anchor, grounding him amid the choppy seas. Spanish may be a romantic language at the best of times, but it’s downright swoon-worthy when the man you’re head over heels about is whispering sweet nothings to you.
I pull my head back, forcing him to look into my eyes. “Te amo, Ares.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when he covers my lips with his. My hands caress his face, growing damp as his tears hit my skin. I plant my hands on his shoulders and jump, hoping he’ll catch me, and I won’t end up clinging to him like a spider monkey. He folds my legs behind him with a groan.
Peppering kisses down my neck, he turns us so my back is facing the window, then walks us toward it until the cold glass meets the fabric of my dress. He doesn’t make a move, doesn’t try to feel me up or do anything, but I need him to. My body is burning, yearning for him to touch me, yet all he’s doing is dragging his lips lazily across my skin.
I drop an arm from resting on his shoulder and move his hand from my waist. I need it between my legs. My dress gives him easy access, and when he pushes my panties aside, skimming his fingers over my pussy, I can’t help but moan.
“Yes. Please.” I nip at his ear, trying to provoke a reaction, trying to unleash whatever anger and passion he needs to let go of right now. “Ares, please.”
I barely hear his zipper opening, and I’m trying not to think about how he’s so skilled at holding me up for so long and getting himself into position to take me the way we both need him to.
“No protection.” His voice is a pained growl.
“I’m on birth control.”
He searches my eyes for permission. I nod. No words, no hesitation, he thrusts inside me in one smooth motion. I don’t have time to think, or breathe, or adjust, because he pistons his hips against mine. The metal of his piercings grinds along my walls, and I’m not sure that I can keep quiet when he’s railing me this hard against the window.
He’s relentless as he grips my hips. Rage, passion, and need are driving him into me over and over but when his eyes hold mine captive, a bottomless pool of love reflects back. The sex is frantic and primal, but the emotion held in his eyes is enough to destroy me.
I’ll let him. In fact, I need him to.
He grunts with each thrust, and I know he’s getting close. I let my eyes roll back before fluttering closed. “Let go, Ares.”
As he shakes his head, a bead of sweat trickles down his temple. “Not before you.”
This isn’t about me. I don’t need the release he’s chasing so desperately as he drills into me against the glass. I open my eyes. “Please? I need you to let go.”
He searches my face with his probing gaze, his eyes flitting between mine, once, a second time, and whatever he sees must satisfy something inside him because it spurs him on. Harder, faster, deeper… sweet mother of—holy guacamole!
