The Spanish Love Deception Elena Armas (free ebook reader for ipad .TXT) 📖

That was exactly why when Aaron quietly reached for my hand, took it in his, and stood up, I followed. Every single thing that had stopped me in these past few days was obliterated in the chaos that had built around us. We had to cross the space, sidestepping people who now danced animatedly, eluding relatives with red cheeks and ruffled hair who lunged in our direction, ignoring the music filling the outdoorsy space that called everybody to the improvised dance floor. But what did I care? Nothing mattered, except following this man wherever he took me.

Like a glass, I had been filling up, droplet after droplet. Slowly packing all these things he had given me—the softest, most provoking touches; precious smiles that were just for me; his strength; his faith in me—to the brim and heaping with everything I had been feeling. I found myself on the verge of being toppled down. Of helplessly spilling and revealing everything I had worked so hard on bottling up.

We were somewhere outside still, perhaps on one of the sides of the patio of the restaurant. The music from the party reached my ears, muffled by the distance, and the only light illuminating this section of the garden came from a lonely lamp perched on the far edge of the building, leaving us almost in the dark.

Aaron came to a stop, finally turning around and facing me. His jaw was clenched again, the rest of his features screwed securely together so they gave nothing away.

But I knew. I knew.

My feet shuffled on the gravel beneath them, telling me this couldn’t be a frequented path for guests if my heels didn’t seem to stand still for more than a few seconds.

Or perhaps it was just me and the way my body shook, what stopped me from remaining upright.

Aaron took a step forward, his body angling toward mine. Deliciously crowding me and forcing my back to come against the coarse surface of the wall.

“Hi,” I croaked, as if we were just seeing each other after a long time. And, God, why did it feel so much like we were? Like I was finally here. Finally coming home.

I watched Aaron’s throat work, and then he took a deep breath through his nose. “Hey.” His palm came to rest on my jaw, cupping my face. “Ask me what I’m thinking.”

My heart raced with the prospect of doing so as I anticipated his answer with a trepidation I had never known. But it was better than him asking me to speak what was in mine.

“What are you thinking, Aaron?”

A hum rose in his throat, the sound deep and husky. It shot straight to my chest. “I’m thinking that you want me to kiss you.”

My blood swirled at his words, turning thicker. I do. I do.

“And I’m also thinking that if I don’t do it soon, I might lose my goddamn mind.”

The palm that was cupping my face fell, and a finger trailed down the skin of my arm.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t think I could.

His gaze traveled down my throat, leaving a path of shivers on my skin. “But I was serious when I said that when I finally took your lips, you’d know what it meant.”

He stepped closer, the tips of his shoes grazing mine, our bodies almost touching. I braced my hands on his arms, not trusting myself anymore, seeing as how I shook. How I trembled.

“Do you know now, Catalina?” His nose brushed my temple, making my breath hitch. “Do you know what this means?”

Aaron’s lips flicked along my cheekbone, making my back arch, my shoulders coming flush against the wall behind me. My lips parted, my answer stuck somewhere in my throat.

He released a shaky breath, his body tight with restraint. “Answer me, please.”

Aaron’s forehead came to rest against mine, and I watched his eyelashes hide that ocean I’d gladly drown in if he let me. Eyes closed, he inched closer, his lips almost coming against mine.

“Put me out of my misery, Catalina,” he gritted out, cupping the back of my head with trembling fingers.

My heart—my poor heart—lost it at the desperation in his voice. At the unfiltered need I heard.

“Real,” I finally breathed into his mouth. “This is real,” I repeated, needing to hear the words, feel the truth on my skin. “Kiss me, Aaron,” I told him breathlessly. “Prove to me that it is.”

A growl—a deliriously low growl—left Aaron’s mouth. And before I could even process how the sound had seeped deep, deep inside of me, right into the marrow of my bones, Aaron’s lips were on mine.

He kissed me—Aaron was kissing me—as if he had been starving for an eternity. Just like a beast meant to devour me. His hard body coming against mine, desperately seeking anything I’d give him.

Our lips opened, ravaging each other’s mouths, while his large palms roamed down my sides. Down, down, down they went, stopping below my waist. My hands flew to his chest, and I relished how hard it felt, how warm, how perfectly solid and just for me.

My heart drummed against the walls of my own chest, and a sound climbed up my throat when I felt Aaron’s heart do the same against my fingertips.

The noise only fueled Aaron to press into me with his hips. To reward me with a wild sound of his own. His hands gripped my waist, bringing me even closer to him, making me feel the heat of his hardness on my belly and punching another moan out of me.

Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, my mind seemed to chant as my body went on sensory overload.

His hands roamed over the fabric of my dress, coming around me, dragging down my back, all while his tongue danced against mine.

Another press of his hips against mine made my body spin out of control and sent more and more heat to pool between my thighs.

Aaron’s lips left mine, revealing he was breathing as violently as I was. Without