Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(111)

Sadness, since being in his presence reminds me of his betrayal.

Love, because no matter how many times I lie to myself, I know it won’t go away overnight, and maybe it never will.

But most of all, I am fearful, knowing that if I accept his actions as honest ones, then I’ll run out of reasons to be mad at him. And if I’m no longer angry at him, then I have no reason to stay away.

Not a single one, other than the fear of him hurting me again.

I try to hold on to that thought, but once his lips meet mine, I forget all about my anger. My fears. Everything fades into the background, my worries becoming white noise as he kisses me.

Against all my instincts, I shut my eyes and allow myself to enjoy the moment. Sparks scatter down my spine as he slides his hands through my hair and holds me in place, his lips a soft cushion for mine.

He takes his time, and he intentionally drags out our kiss, forcing me to catalogue every single way my body responds to his.

My stomach flips. My breath stalls. My heart stops before finding its rhythm again. All from a stupid, simple peck.

To keep him from gloating, I deepen the kiss, my arms circling around his neck so I can pull him closer. He follows my lead, and I hate him for it.

I don’t want to be in charge. I want my brain to shut off for a few minutes and allow him to take control so I don’t blame myself when all this comes crashing down around me.

The next few minutes play out like snapshots in a movie, almost like an out-of-body experience.

Me climbing onto Lorenzo’s lap so I can comfortably kiss him without hurting my neck.

Him standing with my legs wrapped around his waist, only breaking our kiss so he can safely walk up the stairs.

Us kissing against his bedroom door with Daisy whining on the other side, her high-pitched sound making Lorenzo pull away from the door and toss me onto the bed.

I don’t recognize myself as I get rid of Lorenzo’s shirt and pants before yanking his boxers down. His erection slaps against his toned stomach, and my mouth waters with anticipation.

When I reach for him, he seems to snap out of his lust-induced daze and takes a step back.

“What are you doing?” I hiss.

He stands at the foot of the bed and presses his clenched fists into the mattress. “I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”

“I won’t.” Or will I?

I can’t think straight with the way he looks at me, his eyes a window to his beautifully broken soul. “This isn’t only sex for me,” he says softly, as if I didn’t feel his words down to the marrow of my bones.

“What else could it be?”

“You know.”

My chin lifts defiantly. “I’m getting tired of you saying that.”

“I’d love to say something else, but I’m waiting on you.”

“Why?”

“Because you have all the control here.”

Do I? Because I feel like a prisoner in a cage of my own making, and Lorenzo is my warden. I’ll spend forever tied to him, whether it be due to the strings of fate or by shackles of lust.

He climbs onto the bed and crawls slowly toward me, his hands brushing up the length of my calves, then my thighs, before they land on my hips.

His smile is arrogant as he lifts my dress high enough to reveal the wet spot on my underwear.

“Tell me what else this could be, baby.”

First amore mio, then baby? I’m a goner in two different languages—that much becomes clear from the way my stomach clenches.

“I’m not your baby.” My voice trembles, whether it be from adrenaline coursing through my veins or anger at him for dragging out this process after being the one to initiate it.

“Do you prefer amore mio?” He slips his hand under the band of my panties and pulls them slowly down my thighs.

“I prefer that you put your mouth to better use.”

“How quickly that happens depends on you.”

I spread my legs wider and tilt my hips in a universal sign to say Put your mouth on my pussy, please. He moves forward, close enough for the tip of his nose to trace my soaked slit, and goose bumps explode across my body.

He reaches over and nips me in the thigh. “You’re so damn hard-headed.”

“Why does it matter if this means anything to me?”

“Everything about you matters to me.”

My scoff comes out forced.

Lorenzo takes a deep breath and groans against my center, and I swear, I nearly give in. I’m not the stronger Mu?oz sister, and I don’t want to be if it means denying myself what I want.

“Is it so hard to believe?”

Yes, I want to say.

“You’re my fiancée, Lily,” he replies, as if that’s supposed to answer any lingering doubts.

“None of this is real.”

He drags two fingers through my wetness before bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them. “Tastes pretty fucking real to me.” His tongue darts out to lick them clean, and my lower half throbs as I picture him doing the same to me.

He then yanks my thighs wide open as far as they’ll go, making me gasp when he shoves his face against my core. His possessive hold on my thighs tightens as he inhales.

“Smells that way too.” The tip of his nose presses into me, and my eyes flutter closed before they snap open again when he sinks two fingers inside me. He unleashes a low laugh that rolls through me.