The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 146

Restless and flushed, I averted my gaze and leaned, reaching for my right foot. My fingers were clumsy

as they worked at the strap of the beautiful yet painful high-heeled shoe. Exhaling with frustration, I

fumbled with the thin band tied around my ankle for an embarrassing amount of time.

I sensed Aaron coming closer, right to where I was, sitting on the bed as I unsuccessfully tried to untie

the clasps of my right heel. If he found my predicament funny or ridiculous, he didn’t say. Instead, he

knelt on the floor in front of me and placed his palm over my hands, bringing my attempts to a halt.

“Let me,” he said. “Please.”

I did. I was beginning to understand that I’d let him do about anything if he asked.

Aaron’s strong fingers unclasped the fine straps and slowly slipped the shoe off. Killing me with a NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

tenderness I would never—not in a lifetime—have enough of. His hand captured my foot, placing it on

top of his thigh. Only that gesture, the contact of my sole on his leg, had the power to undo me.

And it did. It cracked me wide open as Aaron’s fingers slid to my ankle, kneading and easing the

tension away as they went, robbing me of my breath.

Those hands. What those hands could do to me if the simplicity of what he was doing sent bolts of

electricity up my legs, straight to that neglected point low in my belly.

The enemy that my own mind could sometimes be decided that this was a good moment to remind me

that it had been a long time since I had been intimate with someone. And Aaron … well, one just

needed to take a look at him to know that he probably had more experience than me. Anybody would. I

had barely dated after Daniel and—

“Relax.” A deep voice jerked me back to the moment. Aaron’s fingers were still delicately rubbing my

right ankle, softening the stiff muscles. “I don’t expect a single thing from you tonight, Catalina.” He

looked up at me, our gazes meeting. There was only earnestness in the blue of his eyes. “Earlier, when

I kissed you, I let myself get carried away. Came on a little too strong, and I apologize.”

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

“You have to say something, baby. You are very quiet, and that’s starting to freak me out.”

Baby. That baby did things to me. I liked it. Far too much.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I tried really hard to swallow all those stupid insecurities. “So, don’t

apologize, please.” I looked into his eyes. “You were perfect. You … really are.”

That last part left my lips as nothing more than a whisper.

The blue in Aaron’s eyes simmered, darkened with determination. It did for a moment that stretched

and stretched until he cleared his throat and resumed his work.

Turning to my other foot, he repeated the process, leaving the left stiletto where the other one rested

on the floor. He massaged my left heel, his fingertips making their way up my ankle too. And only after

he finished kneading the muscles and tendons there, he spoke, “All set. Let’s get you out of that dress,

and you’ll be ready for bed.”

And that was what did it.

His unassuming words, the tenderness with which he had bared my feet and the way he looked up at

me from his position on the floor, as if his only goal here was making sure I was cared for. All of it broke

something inside of me.

I swore I even heard the cracking sound, slicing the silence in the room in two.

“No.”

His back straightened, his gaze rising until eye-level with me.

“Then, tell me.” His jaw hardened. “Tell me what you want.”

Instead of voicing it, I reached out and placed my hand on the nape of his neck. I pulled, attempting to

bring him closer. And Aaron let me, allowing me to show him where I needed him. Our faces were mere

inches away. My memory of the taste of his lips was almost too powerful for me to resist him any

longer.

Still on his knees, Aaron inched closer. Placing his torso between my thighs and his hands on each of

my sides. Right next to my hips.

“What else?”

I could hear the need in his voice. I could almost taste it.

Unable to stop myself, my fingertips pulled at the strands of raven hair at his neck. You, I told him with

that tug, incapable to articulate a word.

“I need to hear you say it,” he breathed into my lips. Not closing the gap, still not sealing it.

My other hand landed on his upper arm, and I noticed immediately how those toned muscles bunched

beneath the fabric of his shirt, constrained. As if he was physically stopping himself from coming closer.

My gaze traveled down his arm, all the way to his hand, discovering he was fisting the comforter right

beside my hip.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated, his voice almost breaking.

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