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He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me as he breathed me in. “Plus, I want you all to myself, girlfriend.”

I closed my eyes, going through my memorized lecture about who I was and what I was here for. “Let’s go, boyfriend.”

He kissed me before taking my hand and leading us out to the valet, where his car was already waiting.

By the time we got through his front door, his shirt was off, my heels were still in the car, his belt was gone, and his pants opened to reveal the black briefs beneath.

My dress came off in the living room.

His shoes kicked off in the hall.

We stripped each other until we were naked, never breaking our kiss, in a frenzy to make it to the bed.

He lowered me down slowly before crawling over me, taking me in with a look of pure adoration.

Alessio took his time, never rushing because to him we had all the time in the world. He worshiped every inch of my body like he was claiming it all as his own. Gently caressing my breasts, my stomach, my thighs with his fingers and lips.

Whispering how beautiful I was. How special I was. How happy he was to have me in his life. To call me his.

This was making love.

It was everything my fucking spree with Javi was not.

The first time I slept with him, I allowed myself to enjoy it. To treat it for exactly what it was: two people attracted to each other and making the other feel good. Now, it felt different.

Wrong.

I was a liar.

He didn’t know.

But it felt so good.

He had an instinct for what I liked, for what turned me on, and got me off. He knew where to kiss me, what to say, how to touch me just right.

We shouldn’t fit like this.

Being in his arms, feeling him inside my body, shouldn’t feel like home.

It shouldn’t be so easy.

He made sure I came over and over before he even entered me. He watched my face with each thrust, making sure I was comfortable.

He never wanted to hurt me.

He only ever wanted to bring me pleasure and peace, and God, did he do both.

When we finished, he slipped from the bed and returned with a warm washcloth. He cleaned me with the tenderness reversed for a man in love.

He held me, wrapping me in his strong arms, and whispered in Spanish words he didn’t think I knew.

I was his angel. A gift sent from heaven. A blessing in his life he didn’t deserve. He was darkness, but I was his light. He promised to treasure me, protect me, and cherish me. He’d never take for granted what he knew he could never deserve, yet somehow found.

My bottom lip was swollen and sore from biting down to keep any tears from escaping.

When his breathing slowed and I knew he was asleep, I rolled away so he wouldn’t see me cry.

Being alone with my thoughts was the most dangerous place for me. Not in the literal bed of my enemy; Alessio made sure I felt perfectly safe there.