Page 63 of Salvatore

“You can stay here if you want,” I tell her. “But I’m walking you to your door.”

She strolls ahead as if I didn’t just growl at her. “Suit yourself.”

I storm forward, following her as she hops up the steps. Any other day, I’d have my arm around her and she’d be glued to my side. I force myself to keep my stride relaxed, even though by now I’m ready to rip someone’s throat out.

With her carefree pace, and the way she neglects her environment, anyone could attack her. Safe neighborhood or not, she needs to be careful.

“You need to watch your surroundings. Anyone can come up and grab you,” I snarl, angry that this is what she does when I’m not around and even more furious that I won’t be at her side anymore to protect her.

She glances over her shoulder as she reaches her apartment, her gaze indifferent as it passes along my form. “Oh, I doubt that,” she says, turning back to unlock the deadbolt.

“I mean if I weren’t here,” I say, trying to keep from yelling. “Decent area or not, we’re a short drive from a city infected with pervs and maniacs waiting for the opportunity to assault you.”

“Mmm,” she says, nodding.

It’s as if what I’m saying isn’t important. I follow her inside, throwing the door closed behind me and flicking the lock. “Look, Adrianna. You can be mad at me all you want for speaking the truth. That doesn’t mean you get to be careless, or that I want anything to happen to you.”

She places her keys and purse on the counter and shrugs out of her coat, hanging it on the hook by the door in this tiny-ass apartment. “Is that what you were doing?” she asks, slipping out of her boots, and socks. “Speaking the truth? Like you always do, right?”

My muscles tense as she throws what I said in my face. I don’t know if she’s seen through all the lies I’ve told her about Vin, or the lies I told her today about how I feel. But when she pulls her sweater over her head, I still for different reasons. Her dark hair brushes against her shoulders as she wiggles out of her jeans and her hips swing as she strolls into the bathroom.

She’s wearing those shiny brown panties she just bought, the ones that are nothing more but a strip of cloth across her ass. They give a glimpse of her sweet body, especially when she bends?shit?like she’s doing now as she flips on the water to her shower.

“What are you doing?” I rumble, feeling myself get hard.

She keeps her back to me as she unsnaps her bra. “Getting a shower,” she explains, like I’m a moron.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and scrunch my eyes closed. I all but shoved her away today?gave her every reason to walk away when she told me she loved me and I didn’t say shit back?rejected her as if she hasn’t been good to me?as if she didn’t turn my world upside down?or become the woman I’d cut my own heart out to protect.

My hand falls away in time to see her panties drop to her ankles. She pauses as she pulls aside the transparent curtain. “If you want to leave, leave,” she says, her voice tight. “Lock the door behind you and toss your key in my mail slot. I won’t make you stay if you don’t want me.”

She steps into the tub, the cascade of water soaking her naked form as steam rises to the ceiling. I stand there, taking in what she tells me and mesmerized by the way she passes her hands along the skin that felt like silk beneath my touch.

I did this to her. I denied everything she offered, including her love. This is what I told her I wanted, right?

I replay every damn detail of our time together, knowing that life without her is the last thing I want. She’s telling me to walk, giving me an out, because this is the hand I forced her to play. But as much as I think I should, I can’t leave her.

Just like I can’t keep my hands off her.

She steps out of the shower like I’m not there and no longer exist, passing a thick white towel along her face, hair, and curves before wrapping it around her body and edging toward the sink. She pauses in front of the mirror. At first, I think she’s going to say something, but instead she reaches for a comb to pass through her thick hair.

Like I said, I don’t know what she’s up to. All I know, is that I’m done watching.

She finishes combing her hair. I march forward and lift the bottle of lotion she reaches for out of her hands. The hitch of her breath when I nip her neck is her only acknowledgment of me, that and the way her eyelids lower as I glide the lotion across her skin.

My hands . . . they’re not as fast as I want to be. They pass along her shoulders and arms like a slow dance between my palms and her skin. I fall to my knees, feeling the muscles of her toned legs tense as I massage up, and down, and further up until my spread fingers cup her ass.

Part of me thinks I should stop, that she may not want what I’m doing to her. But the soft moan she releases as I slip my hands beneath the towel and knead her ass tells me that at least for now, she doesn’t want me to leave. I yank the towel off her in one hard tug. It falls in front of me as she grips the edges of her sink, her body shuddering as I pry her legs apart and take my first lick.

My face buries deep and my tongue probes, thickening my staff so it bulges painfully against my jeans. She gasps with each flick I give her throbbing center, each pull of her sweet flesh, her hips circling as I spread her thighs further.

Her increasing moans and the way her thighs tremble tell me she’s peaking, she’s almost there. I go faster, needing to hear her release. I expect her to come in that way she always does for me, with her back and neck arching, and her screams of pleasure releasing through clenched teeth. Just as she starts, she stumbles away from me and into the hall.

I clasp the edge of the sink, gliding my tongue over my lips. “Where are you going?” I ask, my voice as rough as crushing stone.

Aedry’s eyes glaze with lust. She clutches the counter behind her, appearing to struggle to keep her balance. Her breath releases in short bursts and her skin is flushed. “What are you trying to do to me?” she asks.

I rise arduously, my erection stabbing and clenching my pelvis. But I don’t answer.

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