Page 16 of Hold Me

“You’re going to kill me, woman.” He removes my other hand from the back of his neck and pins it to the wall with the first, trapping both wrists in one hand before he sets me on my feet. He towers over me, effortlessly restraining me against the tile. I swallow heavily, and my gaze follows his free hand over each defined bump of his abs—lower, lower until he’s wrapping his tattooed fingers around himself. A little silver piercing catches under the bright lights of the bathroom. The water continues to pour over the both of us, and I lick a drop from my bottom lip. Rafe hisses out a breath through his teeth, his movements speeding up a little. As I watch him, I forget all about my fear. I forget why I came in here.

His chest seems to grow, his abs popping and flexing violently. Our eyes lock, and I slowly lean in, brushing my lips over his jaw. The corded muscles of his throat pop as he tips his head back, rivulets of water cascading over his skin. I swipe my tongue up the length of his throat, licking the hot water from him. Piece by piece, Rafael comes undone. Every touch, every kiss, he becomes a little wilder, a little more unhinged, and I find that I want it. I want to be in control of a man like him. Pushing up on tiptoes, I place my lips against his. I can feel the tight restraint in every inch of his body, his hand pumping against my stomach as the distance between us closes. I want him to come undone for me because this thing that has always made me so powerless is empowering right now.

A feral growl works up his throat, and for the briefest moment, my mind wavers—my grip on reality slipping ever so slightly. I get this sick feeling in my stomach. This is wrong and dirty.

“God, you ruin me, Anna.” Anna. I have a name here. I’m a person, not a thing. I focus on Rafael, on the way his body bucks and tenses, on the glazed, needy look in his eyes. He releases me and slams his hand against the tile over my head, his shoulders slumping forward as he loses the battle with himself. “Anna…fuck.”

He’s cracking wide open, breaking and shattering before my eyes. It’s vulnerable and pure, untainted. A string of groans leave him between hard breaths, his body going tense before his head falls forward against my chest. For a moment, neither of us says anything.

“You always surprise me, avecita.”

The reality of what just happened crashes in on me like a wave breaking against the rocky shore. My thoughts becoming nothing more than scattered white foam, bubbling to the surface in a messy rush.

“I’m…uh, I’m s—”

His hand lands over my mouth. “I swear, if you apologize right now…” I try to move, to shift away from him, but he uses the weight of his body to trap me. “Oh no. You stay here until that look disappears from your face.” He drops his hand.

“What look?”

“Like you just did something wrong, something you’re ashamed of.” I tilt my head back and close my eyes. He sees too much. I don’t like it. His lips brush my cheek, stopping by my ear. “This isn’t wrong.” That’s it though, how can something feel right when it’s been your own personal nightmare for so long? I’m warring with myself, torn in two between this engrained disgust and this longing to be something other than what I am. I open my eyes to find him watching me.

“Why did you stop me?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“Why did you come in here?” I say nothing. “You’re not ready.”

I close my eyes. “If you wait for me to ‘be ready’, you might be waiting forever.”

“Then I’ll wait forever.” I open my eyes and meet his steely gaze.

He says that now. I try to duck around him, but of course, he blocks me. Standing there wordlessly like an impenetrable wall. “Let me go.”

“No. Talk.”

My frustration and self-loathing swirl together into a toxic concoction that has everything bubbling to the surface uncontrollably. “You won’t though!” I shout.

“I won’t what?”

“You won’t wait forever.” Tears prickle my eyes and fall down my cheeks, disguised by the water of the shower.

He closes the space between us, pressing me against the wall once more. His fingertips gently trace over my cheek. “You underestimate how much I want you. Not your body—you. One day you will come to me, and you will ask me to give you something that no one else can.”

“What—”

“Do you trust me?”

I hesitate for a second. “Yes.”

“Then trust me to know what you need.”

What about what he needs? I suck in a deep breath and silence permeates the space between us.

“I think… I think you should fuck someone else.” I can barely force the words past my lips, and as I picture him with another girl, kissing another girl, my heart splinters just a little more.

Rafael goes very still, and when I look up at him, he looks pissed. He takes a slow step back, and then another, cutting the water. Wordlessly, he turns his back and steps out of the shower, picking up a towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he walks straight out of the room without a backward glance.

My legs give out, and I slide down the wall to the shower floor, pulling my knees to my chest. What did I just do? Did I upset him? Or did I set him free the same way he set me free? Rafael is not a man to be caged or limited. This is the right thing to do. I know it. So why do I feel like I just tore off a part of my soul and cast it to the flames?

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