Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Madelena.”
The way he says my name, voice ragged, I don’t know. It’s like right now we’re so close and everything is different with him. This secret he knows about me, it’s more intimate than anything else. Some part of me is relieved that he knows it. It wants him to know.
He cups the back of my head pulling me close, kisses the corner of my mouth, then he drops his forehead into the curve of my neck and mutters a curse as his rhythm changes, growing more frantic.
I wrap my legs tight around him, pressing myself against him as he takes me and the sensation of pain is edged by something else. I press my mouth to his shoulder and cling tight to him.
“Come with me,” he tells me, his hands on either side of my face lifting it, his body pressing mine to the wall. “Come, Madelena.” His face is so close, his eyes dark and burning, and all I can think of is the tension building inside me. It’s all I can feel, and I hear myself begin to moan.
His thrusts come harder, and in moments, I’m coming. My nails dug deep into his back, my face in his hands, our eyes locked, I am coming. The sounds I’m making are desperate gasps as he thrusts once more, twice, until, with a groan he buries his face in my neck and comes inside me, shuddering, saying my name, sinking his teeth into me. Literally.
When it’s over and we’re left panting, he draws backward, holding onto me as my legs slip from around his waist. Without once looking away, and without a word, he lifts me in his arms and carries me to the bed. He lays me down, looks me over, and I follow his gaze to the stain of blood and come on my thighs. When I look back up at him, he’s watching me. Then, a moment later, he walks away into the bathroom.
I touch the place on the curve of my neck. Feel the imprint of his teeth.
He returns, his slacks buttoned up. He’s holding a warm washcloth and when he touches my thigh, I draw away.
“Be still. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I’m not going to hurt you. Why do I believe him? Why do I so desperately want to believe him?
I remain still, and he places the warm cloth between my legs. He presses gently and I wince, sore. If I concentrate, I can still feel him inside me—feel his thickness, his hardness. I watch him as he gently cleans me then disappears into the bathroom.
Chilled, I draw the blanket over myself, trembling a little. What just happened between us? What did I think it would be like? A taking. Only that.
But it wasn’t only that.
Santos returns and looks at me. He has washed his face, pushed wet hands through his hair. He comes to the bed and draws the blanket higher.
“Okay?” he asks.
I shrug because I can’t really speak. I’m not sure what to say.
He nods once. Maybe he’s not sure either, and I don’t know what I want when he turns and walks toward the door. I don’t know why I feel an ache in the very center of myself as I watch his back.
Because I think some part of me wanted to be held, wanted to press my face to his chest and listen to his heart beat and feel his arms around, strong and warm and safe.
I don’t know. All I know is when that door closes behind him, I am alone. Again. Always.
15
Santos
“She stays inside,” I tell Val. “No one goes in. No one.”
Because I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother decided to pay a visit to my wife to be sure our marriage was consummated. That everything is wrapped up tight.
To be honest, I’m glad to leave Madelena there because this is fucking hard, harder than I expected. Not that I thought she’d be any different. She has claws—she always has—and bite. I wonder if she realizes that.
But what happened just then, the way she responded, the way she looked at me, clung to me, the way she came? It wasn’t what I expected or how I’d expected it to be. I took from her tonight, but she also gave to me, and I don’t understand.
I strip off the rest of my clothes in the room she’d stayed in last night. This will be her bedroom for the nights she’s not sleeping in mine. I walk into the bathroom and run the shower but turn to take in my reflection before stepping under the flow. She left rivulets of open skin down my back to match those on my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever forget her cry when I pushed into her. She’d tried to muffle the sound in my shoulder, but I heard it, felt it, and for one brief moment, it was her pain I felt.