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“Sera.”
“I need a moment.”
Toro flinched. His heart dropped to the bottom of the pool. She must have seen his thoughts on his face because she shook her head.
“I’m not rejecting you, Julián. I just—”
“Nothing has changed about who I am between this morning and now,” he told her softly. “I am still the man you blackmailed into being here with you. Although you never had to resort to that because I was always yours for the asking.”
Her nostrils flared.
“I am still the man you hate to want. And I am still the man who had his face buried in your juicy cunt just this morning.” He leaned forward, nose brushing her ear. “Don’t forget that while you’re busyhaving your moment.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she swam away from him. He didn’t watch, but he heard the splashes as she got out and left him behind in waist-deep water.
Drowning.
13
Seraphina spentthe rest of the day working—taking meetings virtually, making phone calls. She kept busy, barely taking time to eat whatever it was the chef shoved in front of her whenever dinnertime rolled around.
She kept occupied, but she wasn’t truly focused. She was back in that pool with Toro, listening to his story, staring into his eyes. She had a million questions but felt she wasn’t entitled to the answers. Not after the way she’d left things. She avoided leaving her office because then she’d have to see him and apologize.
When was the last time she’d done that? Apologize?
Toro’s revelation shocked her. There’d been no hint of him being Trans. No whispers of it in the world they both inhabited. A surprise for sure, but that wasn’t the cause of her swift retreat. It was all becoming so real. His revelation meant that he saw her beyond whatever it was they were doing now. He trusted her. He’d revealed this big secret, essentially baring himself to her, and what was she supposed to do with that?
One fucking month. That was all she had to give him.
She tossed her pen aside and slumped in her chair, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
She’d warned him already; she wasn’t gonna tell him again. She would break his heart. That was all she kept thinking as they stood in the middle of the pool. His eyes were so haunted as he recounted his story, and she’d wanted to hear more just as badly as she’d wanted to cover up her ears.
How was she supposed to keep him at arms’ length when he revealed such things? When he put his strength and fortitude on display like that? They were so different, weren’t they? And she wasn’t talking ages.
He was a good guy.
Sure, he worked with his uncle doing God knew what, but Toro was a good guy. His eyes asked her to take chances she’d long stopped taking. They asked her to reach for things she’d given up on having. So why was this man suddenly there, in her life? Was she such a glutton for punishment that she’d ignored all the warnings her head had given and invited him in?
She feared now that he would never leave. That she wouldn’t ask him to.
She should go out there and tell him she didn’t care what gender they’d assigned him at birth. He was Toro.
Julián.
And he would leave her after a month since that was what they’d agreed on.
But in the meantime, she could do with some more of his kisses because they were fucking fine.
No more hiding.
She dealt with one last piece of business, checking in with her guy in New York, then left the office, expecting to find Toro out there waiting. But he wasn’t. She frowned as she made her way through the house and upstairs to her bedroom.
He was in her bed. Propped up against the pillows, upper half bare, lower half covered up by the blanket. Their eyes met briefly, but he held her hostage—just like always—until she managed to wrench her gaze away. She should say something, but she couldn’t find her voice.
Seemed the sight of him turned her speechless.
His body—she loved his body.
