Page 42 of Faded Rhythm

He’s hard. Unmistakably. And it’s big. Thick. Mouthwatering. And pressed firmly against the back of my thigh.

My breath catches. “Sorry,” I huff, heat rising to my cheeks.

He chuckles, and the sound vibrates through me. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s just biology.”

I’m taken aback by his nonchalance, but I say nothing, and silence settles between us again. My eyes flutter shut as I imagine all the places that thing could go. All the pleasure it could bring. Or maybe pain. Probably both. I’m glad he’s behind me, so he doesn’t see me bite my lip. He can’t see my brows knit together as I picture him on top of me. He can’t tell my nipples are hard.

He breathes in deep and slow. “You didn’t move.”

But he did clockthat.

I turn my head, just enough to glance at him over my shoulder. “Do you want me to?”

He doesn’t answer. Not verbally, anyway. His eyes meet mine, and something flickers in them. It’s something I can’t name,hard as I try, but whatever it is, it’s intense. I’m already wet, but his stare opens the floodgates.

Then I feel it.

His dick pulses against me.

He looks away, moves back, and stands to his feet. “We should get up,” he says. “Start the day.”

Oxygen rushes out of me. I go limp for a second, disappointment coursing through me. I don’t understand this man. I can’t make sense of him, and I wonder if I should even try. Maybe I’m a fool for ever thinking this could or should go any further.

“Yes,” I say. “Let’s start the day.”

I shimmy into my robe and sit up, closing it quickly, not that it matters. He’s already in the bathroom relieving himself. With the door open. Is that where we are? I shake my head. At least he’s washing his hands.

He showers quickly, then brushes his teeth, also with the door open.

“Thank you,” I say softly as he reenters the room. “For last night. For holding me. Keeping me safe.”

He stops in front of me and nods, staring down at me. “You really feel safe with me?”

“I do,” I say. “I don’t know why. But I do.”

He doesn’t speak, but he does come closer. He reaches out, his fingers brushing gently against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

“Some of your hair came out of your scarf,” he says, low and rough. He tucks it back in, but his fingertips linger on my skin a moment longer than they should. Just long enough for my body to respond again.

Then he snatches his hand away and moves toward the desk, leaving me wanting yet again.

“You want breakfast?” he asks from in front of his computer. Just like that. Like nothing happened.

I stare at the back of his head, trapped somewhere between hating him and needing him inside me.

“I’m not hungry,” I mumble.

I slide my hand under the sheets and swipe a finger across my clit. Once. Twice. Three times. I fight to keep my eyes open. I shouldn’t be doing this, especially with him sitting five feet away. But I can’t help it.

I stifle a moan.

If he were to turn around right now…

I pull my hand away and stand, stomping off to the bathroom to start my fucking day.

Alejandro smiles as soon as the Facetime call connects.

I give him a tired smile back. He looks exactly the same. A little older, of course, with creases around the eyes and some gray in his hair, but he’s still The Texican. Still handsome with the deep brown skin of his beautiful black mother and the sleek, jet black curls from his Mexican father.

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