BOOK II.
Four months have passed since Ashton and Ria's relationship fell into ruins. He's convinced that she hates him and she believes he never loved her. Giving up on each other, they attempt to mend their loneliness in the arms of their past; Ch...
❝Watching you tear yourself apart is literally killing me.❞
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SIGHS OF PLEASURE fall from Ria's lips as she hangs on to every touch and kiss Ashton leaves on her hot skin. She presses desperate fingers on the side of his sweat-stained face, ensnared in the allure of his ocean blue eyes.
"I love you, baby," he groans and presses his forehead against hers.
Ria smiles and slides her fingers across his familiar features, slowly losing them in his silky blond hair. She misses this. She misses being with him in the most intimate ways. Even if the connection is foreign and unfamiliar, she's back with the man she loves once again.
"Ria," Ashton groans, breath burning her ear, "tell me you love me."
Squeezing her eyes shut, she wraps her arms around Ashton's frame, striving to relish in the sensation of his body conquering hers. His searing skin creates sticky friction as sweat blankets their limbs.
Ashton.
Dragging her nails down his back only brings them that much closer to the end.
Ashton.
"Ria, I love you so much," he pants.
Ashton.
"I love you, baby."
"Ashton."
"What?" The fantasy shatters as Chris' shocked voice pants in her ear. "What did you just say?" he demands beneath desperate huffs.
Rigidness loops through Ria's tendons. Her gaze expands as Chris materializes over her. Thick brows scrunch as he slides a slick hand along the side of her face, trying to read the guilt residing in her gaze.
"I-I said I love you in Italian," she stutters. Panic rises with the heaving of her chest and knots coiling in her stomach.
Flecks of doubt flash in his murky eyes. He continues to stare, his body one with hers, holding her prisoner as her fantasy continues to crumble. The beauty of Ashton morphs into Chris and her arousal falls away, leaving discomfort to rise.
The musk of his sweat clings to his frame and mingling with hers. They lay tangled in her bed with his thin waist deep between her thighs. Ria swallows the vomit threatening to emerge from her throat and tells herself to enjoy this.
"Okay." Chris nods as if convincing himself and leans in to kiss her again. His tongue is bitter, pungent with remnants of cigarette smoke.
Ria cringes and breaks her lips from his. She turns her head to the side and buries his face in the crook of her neck.
The silhouette of New York dancing across her ceiling is far more alluring than this.
His searing breath burns her skin and he begins thrusting again, grunting in her ear. Her skin crawls from how stale and desperate he sounds; like he's struggling to maintain his stamina. Starving fingers dig into her lower back as he thrusts his body against hers over and over again; dull and one note.
