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7
I SHOULD BE happy she’s trying to keep her distance.
At ease knowing it’ll make the separation easier, but I’m not.
Instead, I’m burning from the inside and have been since last night. Goodbye, love. I read her lips, saw the truth behind those expressively warm eyes, and it was a punch to the gut.
My resolve is weak. My need is too strong to contain.
And more so after watching my little sirenita walking down the stairs in a sea-glass, floor-length chiffon dress that complements her naturally tan skin. It’s sleek and sophisticated with just the right amount of sex appeal—the halter neckline with the keyhole opening—that draws my eyes to the perky swell of each tit. No bra. Just a thin layer of fabric draping carefully over each, highlighting the way her nipples tighten under my attention.
But then again, they always has.
Amberlyn embraces her femininity and is open sexually without fear of judgement. As she should be. My mermaid isn’t promiscuous, but comfortable inside her skin with the right partner…me.
Hungry and sweet. Motherfucking mine.
My eyes travel lower again, and I bite my lip at the high split in her dress, the way the material shifts and caresses her right leg. Smooth skin. So soft. “So beautiful,” I say low, unable to stop myself. Even angry—burning with jealousy—I can’t help but follow the tease of each curve when she leans over and kisses Natasha on the cheek. There’s a look exchanged, a smirk from Luna’s cousin at my girl, but then he makes an unforgivable mistake.
Alvin tried to put his lips near her cheek.
Over my dead body.
Their conversation is inconsequential to me. Her attempt to walk with someone else, to push me toward an amused Nat, and even the audacity to think I’d go for it, is insulting.
If she wanted me to feel the lash of this strike, Amberlyn won.
Before they can greet each other, my arm is around her waist, her back against my front. No hesitation. That primal part of me—the man who recognizes her as mine—nearly bares his teeth like an animal would.
“She walks with me,” I spit out, and they each take a step back.
No one says a word, and I also don’t miss the way Amberlyn shivers, how unconsciously she moves in a little closer. Even mad at me she seeks my touch, and it’s something I treasure.
One day I’ll make it all up to her.
One day it’ll be her walking down the aisle toward me.
But then she freezes and tries to step away: a silent rejection. It stings. Her body language says everything she won’t verbalize, and I hate it.
Abhor the most minuscule separation between us.
I’ve hurt her. Again. There’s no other choice. Not until they’re all dead.
Until I can bring their heads to her on a silver platter and then worship at her feet without restraint.
Maybe I should let her walk with him. Every cell in my DNA burns bitter at that thought.
Even now, her cold shoulder is more than I can take.
I’ve also accepted that living in Cuba while she’s here will destroy me little by little. Many will bleed because of it.
“Let go, Ivan.” Voice low, Amberlyn elbows me in the stomach, but I don’t flinch. She stomps her foot over mine, the six-inch heel digging into the leather, and I smile. I like her a little violent.
Accept it like the gift it is. Means she cares.
“You walk with me, Sirenita. No one else.”
“That’s not up to you, De Leon,” Natasha answers, yet I don’t pull my eyes away from the woman in my arms. Can’t stop focusing on how good her petite stature fits against my much harsher planes. “Luna decided last night that you’d be better off partnered with me. Alvin will—”
