Catarina
I’m too stunned to move. I don’t want him to regret what we just did, and that’s what this sounds like. Red-hot regret. “Please—”
“Go.” His voice is strained, drenched in darkness. Before I can beg him to turn around and help me understand what is happening, he gives me a warning glare. “Don’t talk. I didn’t ask you to speak,” he growls, his face twisted in a mask of rage so unlike his lustful expression from a minute ago.
Fear, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, makes me lock up.
What happened? I have no time to think it over. I need to get out of here before he loses what’s left of his withering control. Hopping off the desk, my legs are weak. I almost trip over my own feet while I hastily pull on my clothing. I’d sprint out of here stark-ass naked, but I’m not taking the risk I’ll run into someone.
I’m still putting on my shoes when I reach the hallway, and once they’re on, I race over the shining floors all the way to the other side of the house.
When I’m alone, I blink back tears again. I doubt I could run fast enough or far enough to outrun my shame. I don’t know what hurts worse: the way I gave in so easily or the way he turned against me. He regrets what we did. His arousal was there, the lust. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him, so why did he push me away?
Now there is this darkness between us, the unknown. How am I supposed to forget how good it felt and how much I wish he’d do it again? What a foolish mistake on my part. I wasn’t good enough for Luciano, and I’m not good enough for Gianni either.
Which makes me wonder… am I good enough for anyone?