Page 61 of Read With Your Heart

“Let me have it,” I demand, and she shakes her head.

“I never . . . It never . . .”

“It’s gonna happen again. You feel it. Let me have it.” Let me have your heart. I dip my head closer to hers. “On me. Around me.” Make me yours, I want to say, but I clamp my lips. I’m already giving too much, asking too much of her, and then she squeezes, clenching around me, holding herself as close as she can to me. My name is a strangled cry of pleasure as she gives in. Her release triggers mine, and I jet off like I haven’t in years—three plus years.

As we finish, I collapse on her for a second, and her arms circle higher on me, wrapping around my back, fingers tracing over the tattoo and scar tissue she knows is there but hasn’t ever asked about. Blanketing her, I listen for her breathing and wonder if I’m crushing her, but she continues to hold me on top of her.

Does she want me as close as I want her? Can I keep someone so good? Her fingertips drawing over the puckered scar on my back tells me I shouldn’t even ask these questions. I shouldn’t wonder if a woman as decent as the one under me could ever love me.

Slowly, I press upward and pull out of her. “I’ll get you something,” I say, needing a minute to wrap my head around the emotions pinballing inside me.

When I return to the room, Tricia’s already removed her costume and seeing her naked body sitting on the edge of the bed has me instantly hard again. Her eyes hold mine as I cross the room, and she reaches out for my chest.

She’s a new Esmeralda. Her eyes match the green gem the character is named after, and she’s enticing me toward her like the tempting treasure she is.

“Again,” she whispers, and I realize I can’t deny her when I should. Before I break us both.

+ + +

Tricia falls asleep against me after round two, which was more a rushed rutting with her on her back and then me on mine. She sat astride me and took me like Victor Hugo’s Esmeralda—a sultry temptress with moves. I can’t seem to get enough of her. This woman knows what she wants from my body, and I’m willing to let her use me for it. We might not be right for each other, but my body isn’t getting the memo. My heart isn’t either and thumps once we finish. It wants to keep her while an unsettling sensation fills my belly, and as the night wears on, I can’t sleep.

With Tricia curled into me, I realize I never heard Lys or Lena return home. My attention was definitely not on the front door, but it’s after midnight, so I decide to check on them. The second I see Lena’s empty bed, I turn and find Lys under her covers, tucked in like a child despite being so close to womanhood. My heart races as I cross the room, focused on the emptiness of the surface of Lena’s nightstand. I forcefully tug open a drawer, knowing before I look inside what I’ll find.

Nothing.

I step over to the closet and open the double doors, finding empty hangers and a clear spot among the other hanging clothes.

“Lys,” I hiss at my sleeping sister, falling to my knees beside her bed. “Lys, where is Lena?”

Lys is slow to rouse until I turn on another light and shake her more vigorously.

“Lys, where is Lena?” I don’t even try to remain quiet, raising my voice with each word. Slowly, Lys turns, eyes staring at me before glancing up at the ceiling. She blinks, searching for her bearings in the middle of the night.

“Lys, hermana, tell me where Lena is.” My voice fills with panic as I somehow know the truth before she speaks.

“I promised not to tell until tomorrow.” My youngest sister’s voice is rough with sleep. Her eyes struggle to stay open.

“It is tomorrow,” I groan, closing my eyes as my skin turns cold.

“She went home.”

“Where?” I question, although the answer should be clear.

“She went to Chicago.”

I’m on my feet before she finishes, heading to my own room in time to see Tricia standing at her bedroom door dressed in a robe.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lena left,” I grumble once inside my own room.

“Where’d she go?” Tricia’s voice is closer, but I don’t look up.

“She went back home,” I groan, rushing around my room for jeans and a fresh tee. I shove items into a bag, though I have no idea what I’m grabbing. Passing Tricia, I step into her room and grab my phone, keys, and wallet from her nightstand.

“Leon, slow down,” Tricia pleads, but I ignore her, brushing past her again to the hallway.

“Lys, get dressed,” I growl, re-entering her room.