He licks.
I bite back a cry and weave my fingers into his dark hair. I know it hurts him when I pull, but he only groans, dips his tongue inside me before finding my clit and sucking, and only when I’m panting, when I’m moments away from coming, does he stop. Does he climb back over my body to settle between my legs, that wicked grin on his face as he keeps his cock just out of reach.
“That’s your punishment for eavesdropping,” he says. “You don’t get to come this morning.”
“I told you I wasn’t eavesdropping,” I say as he straightens and gets off the bed. I see the length of his erection. I know what it’s taking for him to walk away. “Come back to bed, Santiago.” He turns to me. “Finish what you started.” I open my legs and watch his gaze dip down.
I slip my fingers down, and he lets out a low growl.
“Finish what you started, or I will,” I add.
He drags his gaze back to mine and considers, then sets one knee on the bed. “Turn over.”
I look from his eyes down to his hand, which is fisting his cock. He wants there to be no doubt that he is in control. That he’ll have the last word. But he can’t resist. So, I turn over, get up on my knees, and keeping my head between my forearms, I offer myself to him.
“Fuck, Ivy,” he says, voice thick with arousal.
I have just enough time for a victory grin he doesn’t see before he’s got my hips and is sinking himself into me. Within moments, we’re panting, the sounds of sex filling the room as he leans over me. When I turn my cheek into the bed, he pushes the hair from my face. Sweat drops from his temple onto my forehead as my knees give out, and he’s on top of me, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows, and I watch him as I feel him push deeper inside me, feel us together, feel us so close.
“I love you,” I blurt out, not even aware I’m doing it until it’s too late, until I hear the words myself.
Santiago falters, losing his rhythm. He looks at me, and I stare back at him. Is that shock on his face? Is he truly shocked?
The furrow between his eyebrows deepens, and he puts a hand over my face, my eyes, and his thrusts come harder, just once, twice, the third time he comes. I feel him shudder, feel him pulse and throb inside me. Feel him empty, and when he stands, I turn to look at him, and I feel my chest tighten at the grim expression on his face.
“Guard your heart, Ivy,” he says, jaw tense. “I will do what I must.” He pauses, and I swear I see the battle playing out inside his head. I swear it. “I am bound, don’t you see?”
I sit up, drag my knees to my chest and hold onto the blanket to cover myself. There’s a weight inside my chest and something I can’t quite swallow in my throat.
“You can choose.” I remember my words to him about Mercedes. About it always being a choice. About how one day he may choose differently. I had no idea how much those words meant. How true they were when I said them.
I dip my head to wipe a tear on my knee.
He reaches to take my hand, and I realize it’s the bloody one, although it’s not bleeding anymore. His fingers trace the line of dried blood.
“No, Ivy. I can only hurt you. No matter how much I don’t want to.”
21 Ivy
The rest of the week somehow passes. Santiago is absent from the house. I don’t know where he is. Not in his office. Not home for dinner. And definitely not sleeping in our bed. Eva has noticed his absence too but is careful what she says. I get the feeling she can see I’m upset. But today is the day Santiago or Marco take me to see my father. It’s always either one of them, never anyone else.
Eva is at school and I am dressed and waiting and both relieved and disappointed when Marco comes around the corner at exactly ten o’clock, keys in hand.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, my heart in my throat. I was hoping it would be Santiago. But this is okay, isn’t it? Because after the other morning, a part of me thought he’d maybe go through with it after all. Kill my father. What does that say about how well I know my husband? I’ve never pretended to know him though, have I? Maybe a little. I was wrong mostly. No, that’s not it. I wasn’t wrong exactly.
I just fell in love with him. He’s not to blame for that. And he’s told me he can’t love me even if it wasn’t in so many words. Even if he could never bring himself to say those words.
It's not anyone's fault how I feel about him and how he doesn’t feel about me. If anything, I should have kept my mouth shut. We were in a good place. Now, he’s absent again.
“Mrs. De La Rosa?”
I shake my head to find Marco staring at me, eyebrows raised. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“It’s a bit cooler out today, and a rainstorm is expected. You might want to grab a jacket.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks. And can you please just call me Ivy?”
He nods but I’ve asked him before, and I have a feeling to him it’s a show of respect for Santiago.
“Is Santiago at the hospital?” I ask when we get into the car.
“No, ma’am.”
I bite the inside of my lip and turn to look out the window as we drive in silence. I wonder what Marco thinks. What he knows.
When we get to the hospital, Marco takes me up
