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My body shakes and shudders under his, and I find my release, leaping over the edge into darkness. Moments later, Rome grunts, a groan vibrating through him into me as I feel him pulse, filling me with his seed.
The room falls into silence. I can’t move because Rome has pinned me to the table. His body is slick against mine. My lungs try to pull in air, but they struggle. When I finally open my eyes, I look up at the man who’s torn me apart emotionally. His thumbs swipe at my cheeks, and I realize I’m crying.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic rising in his voice. “I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean—”
“Thank you,” I mumble through my sobs. I’m shaking; my lip wobbles. And the tears he swiped away come faster. He watches me, holding me as if I’m the fragile figurine I thought about earlier, and he allows my emotions to get the better of me.
I cry. He pulls me into his lap, lifting me off the table, and he settles on the sofa. I don’t move, but curl into a ball in his arms, and allow myself to expunge the past I’ve been holding onto for so long.
And even in my sadness, he holds me. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t say a word, he just keeps me warm, and I revel in it for as long as I can. I know I’m going to have to explain why I’m losing it, but right now, all I want is just to feel safe.
And I’m thankful that the man who just broke me with his cock is the one holding my pieces together. I don’t know how long we sit there, but when I finally lift my teary gaze, Rome is still looking at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“There is never a time you should apologize to me. If I hurt you—”
“You made me feel. It hurt, but not the way you think. I’ve been holding onto so much, but you helped me through it. I can’t even explain it because you’ll think I’m crazy.”
He smiles. “How about we get washed up, get into bed, and we can talk in the morning?” I nod slowly, offering him a weak smile. Perhaps he’s right. I need some rest, and we can tackle this when I’m not an emotional mess.
Chapter 19
Rome
I roll over to find myself alone in bed. It’s still dark, so that means the day hasn’t started. At least for me. Normally, I’m up at five heading to the gym, but today I want to spend it with Elisabet. Something happened between us last night, something pivotal, and she’s going to need to confess what’s bothering her.
She has to know that I’ll be by her side no matter what. That reminds me, I asked Dom to find out more about her. To dig into the past and see what she’s hiding, but if she can just tell me, I won’t have to resort to doing underhanded shit.
I’m an asshole at times, I won’t deny it, and having my best friend look into her isn’t something I’m proud of, but after what I’ve been through, I can’t trust anyone. Not even a beautiful woman who seems to have burrowed herself inside me.
Pushing off the bed, I make my way through the room, down the hall, and step into the living room. Though it’s still dark, there’s a sliver of light coming through the windows from outside. The illumination silhouettes Elisabet, and I stop for a moment to watch her.
Even in the dark, she looks beautiful. I watch her sitting on the chair, her legs pulled up. The glass in her hand glints in the spark of light from the outside balcony. Her hair, tangled in a messy bun, sits on top of her head with tendrils of cocoa draped down, framing her delicate neck.
The secrets she hides are slowly tearing us apart. I want more, and she keeps pushing me away. I know Elisabet is strong, she’s no pushover, but seeing her like that tonight was alarming.
Fragile.
But even so, she is everything I want to keep beside me for a long time. A fierce protectiveness overtakes me, and I close the distance between us. Even as the crescent moon glares at us from an inky sky, offering a sliver of illumination, I see her clearly.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I make my way toward her. She doesn’t turn to look at me. Her focus is on the outside world, and I want nothing more than to delve into her mind and see what she’s hiding. She’s a mystery to me, but I wouldn’t mind uncovering just what lies under the surface.
“I am,” she finally responds. Lifting her glass, she sips the alcohol, and then gestures her glass toward me, offering it to me. I take it, swallow a mouthful, and hand it back to her. I stand beside the chair, looking out over the city view, noticing all the small pinpricks of light that spark and glitter from the road, buildings, and just in the distance, from where I know the beach is.
