[Fontaines 01.0] The Sweet Taste of Sin by Ember Casey

Author:Ember Casey [Casey, Ember]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781518793257
Amazon: 1518793258
Barnesnoble: 1518793258
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Published: 2015-10-26T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

He moves first, rolling off of me and onto his side. But he keeps one of his arms around me, letting his fingers trail across the skin of my belly. Part of me longs to lean into him, to keep the connection between us, and the other part wants to get far away from this—from him—as fast as possible.

I sit up.

“Not yet,” Dante says, his arm sliding around my waist. “I’m not done with you.”

He pulls me back down, right against his chest. I sink back, melting against the familiar, heady scent of his skin. God help me.

His lips are at my neck. His fingers drift down between my legs, down to where I’m still wet with the evidence of our ecstasy.

My stomach clenches.

“This is wrong,” I say, jerking out of his grip and sitting up again. This time, I manage to avoid his arm as I slip off the table and grab desperately for my clothes.

Dante sits up behind me. “This isn’t wrong, Ash.”

“We shouldn’t have done it.” I find my shirt and tug it over my head. Now that I’ve managed to find a little strength, a little bit of self-control, I refuse to look at him. If I do, I’m afraid I’ll fall right back into his arms.

“What are you talking about?” He’s right behind me, his breath on my neck. A quiver moves down my spine, and it takes all of my effort to ignore the fresh wave of desire that sweeps through me.

I grab my jeans, still refusing to face him. “This. We shouldn’t have let it go so far.”

“On the contrary. I think we’re just getting started.” His fingers brush my lower back. “I told you, Ash—this time I’m not letting you go.”

“You have to!” I snap, spinning on him. “You have to let me go.”

One look in his eyes gives me the answer, but I cut him off before he can say a word.

“We didn’t use protection,” I say.

“Is that what this is about?” His jaw is tight, but his eyes still shine with something that makes my insides go weak. “Ash, I’m clean. And I always use a condom. Always before now, I mean.”

Considering our past, I resign myself to believing him—we always used condoms when we dated before.

“You used to be on the pill,” he continues. “Has that changed?” Suddenly his fingers are against my cheek, his touch as light as air. “If something happens, you can rest assured that I’ll—”

“It’s not just that,” I say. “And yes, I’m on the pill.” How do I put what I’m feeling into words? How do I explain this to him in a way he’ll understand?

He’s still naked. That and the way he’s touching me make it hard to concentrate, make it hard to push down my body’s reaction and focus on the uncertainty in my heart.

“I can’t do this again,” I say. “Any of this.” My jeans are buttoned, so I pull away from him and reach down for my apron. “I need to get back to work.

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