Through My Window (Hidalgos #1)(21)
I swallow thickly, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, pulling me to him.
Well, I’m a virgin and I panicked because I felt your big friend against me, I think, and I’m immediately thankful I didn’t say that out loud.
“Mmm, I . . . I don’t want . . .” I swallow and feel my throat dry up. Where the hell did all my saliva go?
You lost it when you were moaning like crazy in Ares’s arms, my mind answers me.
Ares raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to fuck you?”
How direct. “I . . .”
“Raquel, we both know how wet and ready you are for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ares wraps his hand around himself, stroking. “Leaving me like this is beyond cruelty, Raquel.”
Should I return the favor? Is that what he’s implying? And why does that turn me on so much? Is it the idea of touching him? Feeling him? I’ve never touched a boy in my life, though.
I act on instinct and nervously bring my hand toward him. Ares watches me like a predator, playing with the piercing in his red, provocative lips. Having him so close and naked after I let him give me the best orgasm of my life gives me some confidence; the intimacy barrier has already been crossed between us.
The moment my hand makes contact with his hardness, Ares closes his eyes and sinks his teeth into his lower lip, ripping any doubts out of my head. Seeing him shudder like that, tensing his stomach muscles as I move my hand, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Shit . . .” he mumbles, putting his hand on mine and speeding up the movement. “You know what I’m imagining, Raquel?”
I move my legs together, the rubbing between them making me want to feel his fingers there again. “No, what?”
He opens his eyes, and I can see they are filled with desire. “How good it must feel to be inside you. I imagine you under me with your legs around my hips, making you mine as you scream my name.”
Oh my goodness, I never thought words could turn me on so much.
He removes his hand and I continue the fast rhythm he showed me. He massages my breasts wildly and after a few seconds, he closes his eyes, muttering profanities. His abdomen contracts as do the muscles in his arms and then Ares lets out a grunt mixed with a moan and comes in my hand.
We are both breathing rapidly, our chests rising and falling together.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say, hiding my hand.
I run for my life and lock myself in the bathroom. I wash my hands and look at my reflection in the mirror. “What in the world just happened?” I ask myself in a whisper.
Part of me can’t believe it. Ares and I just gave each other some pretty good orgasms right next to his sleeping brother. I’m thankful my bed is large enough that there was considerable distance between us and Apolo while it was all happening. Poor Apolo!
I point to my reflection in the mirror. “Who are you, and what did you do with my innocent self?”
Perhaps there never was an innocent self.
Regaining my composure and my missing morals, I decide to go out and face the Greek god.
TWELVE
The Conversation
I realize that the Greek God nickname fits Ares perfectly, especially after seeing him naked.
I saw Ares naked. I touched him. I saw him come. Am I dreaming? Maybe I got too drunk and it’s one of those crazy, vivid, drunken dreams.
As I walk out of the bathroom, I mentally thank Ares for getting dressed, but I find it strange that he has put everything on. His shirt, his pants, his shoes. Is he leaving? My heart twists a little when he doesn’t even turn to look at me. He’s too busy typing on his phone, sitting in my desk chair.
“Who are you texting at this hour?”
“That’s not your problem, Raquel.”
And there I stand, feeling superuncomfortable. What should I do? Or say? After a few seconds, Ares lifts his eyes from his phone and glances at me. I swallow, fiddling with my hands in front of me.
Really, Raquel? After you’ve done all that with him, you’re this nervous?
My conscience is an idiot.
“I’m leaving.” Ares stands up, sticking his phone into the back pocket of his pants. My heart sinks in my chest. “When Apolo wakes up, tell him to jump the fence and enter through the back door, I’ll leave it open for him.”
“I thought it wasn’t appropriate to sleep with a man alone,” I joke, but Ares doesn’t smile.
“It’s not, but it’s your room, your life. It has nothing to do with me.”
Okay, this guy is moody. He arrived annoyed, then he was tender, then sexual, and now he’s back to being cold.
“Is something wrong?”
Ares walks to the window. “No.”
Oh no, you won’t leave. You won’t leave here with that attitude without explaining what’s wrong with you. You won’t leave me with a feeling of having been used that is eating away at my heart.
I catch up to him and stand in front of him, blocking the window. “What’s wrong with you now, Ares?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Yes, something is wrong with you. Your sudden mood swings are giving me a headache.”
“And your drama is bothering me. That’s why I’m leaving.”