“You’re beautiful when you break,” I murmur, and press a kiss to her forehead.
“I still hate you,” she said, but her voice cracked, and the words sounded like a lie.
“No, you don’t.” I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Don’t tell me what I feel.” She said, mascara smudged down her cheeks.
I smiled. Then I leaned in close, my lips brushing her ear one last time.
“Now you can go back to your date,” I said, my voice low and dark. “With my cum dripping out of you.”
I saw the shiver run through her, saw her thighs press together involuntarily.
“I own you, Zara.” I straightened, smoothing down my jacket, adjusting myself back into something resembling composure. “You’re mine.”
I leave her in the bathroom, wrecked and wet, and step into the cool night. My phone buzzes as I light a cigarette.
Zara
You’re an asshole.
Me
And you’re my wife. The car is outside. I’ll be waiting.
I smile, smoke curling around my lips.
She was mine.
And no matter how much she fought it, she knew it too.
Chapter Nineteen
Zara
I stared at the ceiling of my room and tried to convince myself that the ache between my legs was a bad thing.
Except every time I shifted, every time I squeezed my thighs together, I felt him. The ghost of his hands. The burn of his possession. The way he’d filled me so completely that I couldn’t remember where I ended and he began.
I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes and groaned.
What the fuck did I just do?
The words echoed in my head, mixing guilt with raw need. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, ashamed I’d given in—but another part of me, darker and wilder, was buzzing with excitement. Was I more ashamed that it happened, or thrilled? I didn’t know.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it blindly, squinting at the screen.
Jaime
Hey, no worries. I’m sorry if that was your boyfriend or something. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Hope you’re okay.
I’d sent Jaime a rushed apology text the second I’d stumbled out of that bathroom, my legs still shaking, my dress hiked up and hastily smoothed down, my face flushed with a color thathad nothing to do with shame and everything to do with the orgasm still ringing through my body.
The restaurant staff looked at me with a mixture of pity and judgment. And Lorenzo had been waiting outside in his car, window rolled down just enough for me to see the hard line of his jaw.
He didn’t say a word the entire drive home.
Neither did I.
