Page 45 of Another Life

“Any other young woman would simply want to makemetheir future.”

I stare at him, watching the way he keeps his eyes on me. The thing about his stare is that I always try to avoid it. And in doing so, I miss seeing his eyes. The way they follow every slight movement I make, squinting for a moment when I say something as if he’s processing my words.

“I want my own future,” I reassure him. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried.” He sits up and leans into me, backing me into the corner and caging me with his body. His nimble fingers pull down my cardigan, baring my shoulders one at a time. The spaghetti straps do nothing to shield my skin from his touch.

When his fingers meet a ridge in my skin on my back, I try not to react, try not to flinch. My eyes flutter shut and withouta word, he pulls down my cardigan, turns me slightly, and presses a kiss to the scar.

My skin, that bears the marks of my harsh childhood, is falling more and more in love with his caresses.

“Where are we going?” I whisper the question, wondering where we’ll be when we have sex for the first time.

“Home,” he murmurs, kissing my scar again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP

PAST

We’re silent as we enter his home. Quiet as he turns a lamp on, just enough light to illuminate but dim enough that there are plenty of shadows to hide my anxiousness in.

He stands in front of me, pushing my hair to the side to kiss my neck. I try to train my face to remain emotionless, even though he can’t see me. If I start now, when it becomes too intense, I won’t fall apart. It won’t seem like I’m in too deep.

Maybe I already am and that’s why I try so hard to fight it in this moment.

And then we aren’t quiet anymore.

“Ever fucked a grown man, Sabrina?” He asks as he grips my upper arms and turns me to face him.

My jaw is clenched, rivaling the pressure I use to squeeze my thighs together.

He’s the antidote to my poker face. The only man in the world who’s ever been able to find the chink in my armor andmake a sport of widening it until he can reach inside me and rip my resolve to shreds.

“You don’t scare me,” I whisper, even as I taste the flavor of deceit.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes glittering with triumph.

“Fear is exhilarating, isn’t it?” He brings his palm up to my cheek. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,Stellina. But I’d be lying if I said you don’t scare me.”

I can’t handle his words, can’t bear to hear him tell me these things that make me feel like I’m as powerful as he makes me out to be. I can’t handle bringing a man like Abraham Pugliesi to his knees.

So I grab him by the lapels of his jacket and kiss him, determined to lose myself in this tryst, even if just for tonight.

With a moan, I start to tug at his jacket, wanting to finally see him. Feel him. It drops to the ground behind him, and he grabs my face with both hands, slowing the kiss down until it’s sweet like honey.

“I want to take my time with you,” he murmurs between kisses, soft little presses that he tickles with the tip of his tongue. This feels intimate, deep…meaningful.

“I don’t think I can,” I whisper, closing my eyes, letting my desire shine through in a way I haven’t fully been able to before.

I’ve never known sexual attraction like this. I’m used to a short-lived spark, typically ending in me pleasuring myself once they’ve gone. This is so far from that already.

Without another word, he lifts me in his arms, and I yelp, opening my eyes to stare down at him as I wrap my legs around him. I’ve never been handled like this. It makes me feel divinely feminine.

We head toward the hallway, an area I haven’t been in, and I’m torn between staring at him and wanting to bury myface in his neck. To smell him and forever remember the first time I’ve ever been swept off my feet.

“I told you I want to fuck you in my bed,” he tells me as he reaches one hand behind me to open the door we’ve stopped in front of.

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