Page 35 of A Sinner's Truth

Shit, I need to stop him. He’s still asleep. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Santo.” I grab his hand, pausing his fingers from exploring me any further.

“Mhmm.”

“Wake up,” I tell him.

“I am awake.” He moves his fingers through my folds, despite me holding his arm.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Giving you what you need,” he says, shoving a finger into my opening.

Oh god, shit. That feels good.“We can’t do this,” I whisper.

“We’re not doing anything. Fuck, you’re wet.” Santo pumps in and out a few more times before sliding his hand up to my clit. “I want to help you,” he says while rubbing slow, languid circles.

It feels good, like really good. I’ve never had a guy give me an orgasm before. Like ever. I’m so close, and all he’s doing is rubbing my clit. How is this happening right now?

Oh god.A moan escapes my lips, and I swear I hear Santo growl against my shoulder. And then I explode. I see stars, my vision blurs, and I feel like I’m floating.

Santo lifts his arm off me, and I roll over and watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth before sucking them clean.

“Fucking delicious,” he says.

“Santo, what are we doing?” I ask him. We agreed to no sex.

He looks at me, and I see it. The moment it hits him. The reality of what he just did. “I gave you what you needed. It’s nothing,” he mumbles as he climbs off the bed.

It’s nothing.I try not to let those words stab me right through my chest. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“What the fuck are you sorry about?” he asks. I watch his retreating back disappear into the closet. He comes out a few minutes later, dressed in a black shirt and a pair of grey sweats.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to do that. You didn’t.You don’t.”

“I wanted to do it.” He shrugs.

“But we agreed…” I start to say, and he quickly cuts me off.

“That wasn’t sex, darling. If that’s what you think sex is, no wonder you don’t like it.” He smirks.

I have no words. We need to stay firmly in the friend zone. Although he was really good at what he just did. And I wouldn’t complain if I woke up like that every day.

“Don’t overthink it, Aria. We’re married, and you’re not seeing anyone else for the next twelve months. Which means, if you need a release, I’m going to give it to you and I can do that without fucking you.” He says this so casually.

“What about you?” Is he going to want me to return the favour? Do I want to?

Oh my god, I do.

“What about me?” he asks.

“Won’t you need… something? A year is a long time to go without sex for someone that actually likes it.”

“I don’t need anything from you, Aria, nor do I expect anything. I’m good. I’ve gone the last year and a half without sex. I think I can manage another twelve months,” he says. Then he walks out of the room. Just walks out.

He hasn’t slept with anyone since his fiancée died? No wonder he agreed to theno sexrule so easily. It’s a good thing this isn’t a real relationship, because I don’t think there is any competing for that man’s heart. He’s still grieving the loss of his fiancée, which is understandable. I’ve never been in love like that. I have no idea if people ever really get over that kind of loss.

I pull myself out of bed, walk into his closet, and grab a pair of sweats. I have to roll the waistband up a few times to get them to stay. I really need to go home. I need clothes. I need my own toiletries.

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