He got out of the bed, and I lay there with my legs still spread, too weak and too dazed to close them. My chest rose and fell quickly, my body still buzzing from everything he had done to me. I should have looked away, should have turned my head, but I couldn’t. My eyes were glued to him, following his every move.
Emiliano stood tall at the side of the bed, his broad shoulders casting a shadow under the dim golden light of the bedroom lamps. For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just stared down at me, his dark eyes burning into me, and it made my skin prickle. The silence was thick, almost suffocating, and I knew he was doing it on purpose—making me wait, making me feel small under his gaze.
Then, finally, he moved. His fingers went to the first button of his shirt, and I felt my stoma
