Page 223 of Love Unwritten
“Again.”
I pull back only to slam into her. “I love you.”
A tear slips down the side of her face.
“I love every single thing about you.” I grind my hips, making her gasp. “Your mind. Your scars. But most of all, your heart.”
With a trembling hand, she cups my cheek and looks up at me with glistening eyes full of hope. “I love you too.”
With one last shove, she orgasms, squeezing my cock with a cry. I don’t stop moving, my pumps only growing more desperate as she rides the wave of pleasure.
Despite the urge to fuck her until the sun rises, I physically can’t hold back anymore, and my mind, body, and soul shatter as I come. My balls ache from the need to release, and it seems to last forever.
Eventually, once my cock is no longer jerking, I collapse on top of her with a sigh. Her shaky fingers brush through my hair, sending a zing of pleasure down my spine.
I could get used to this.
To her and the love she is so readily able to give.
And to the love I want to reciprocate because she is the one I can’t imagine life without.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Ellie
With Cole arriving tomorrow to play at a local London venue, Rafael and I spend his one and only day here exploring the city. We visit a few famous sites, explore Regent Street and the expensive stores, and hang out at a local pub before heading back to the hotel to get ready for dinner.
When we return to our room, I’m shocked to find three new packages from Liberty London set on a small table beside our bed.
I turn to face Rafael. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I’m going to take a quick shower and shave,” he says nonchalantly before heading to the bathroom.
Buzzing with anticipation, I unwrap the first box to reveal the exact dress I tried on at the store. I told Rafael it wasn’t worth the money, which I still stand by, but clearly, he didn’t agree. The luxurious dress came with a hefty price tag I associate with wedding dresses and ball gowns, and I’m tempted to ask him to return it before I have a chance to stain it, but I reconsider.
Rafael could see my request as a slight against him, and I don’t have the heart to ruin his grand gesture with my insecurity.
Even if it means wearing a glamorous dress worth two of my parents’ mortgage payments.
The next box has a pair of heels I gawked over—in my exact size too—while the final box has something I never laid eyes on today.
A golden hair pin in the shape of a shooting star that I am going to pretend is encrusted with fake stones rather than the expensive alternative.
Mi estrella, he called me.
I spend the next however many minutes gawking at the sparkling gems that glitter in the light, alternating between tucking the pin into my hair and pulling it out and placing it carefully back in the small box.
“Do you like it?” Rafael asks while catching me in the act of ripping a few hairs out in the process of removing it.
I love it, but I can’t say that when I don’t intend on keeping it.
“What store is it from?” I stroke the diamon—no, the fake gemstones. For all I know, the array of stones could be lab-created, which, while still expensive, isn’t the same as ones mined straight from the earth.
You keep telling yourself that.
“I found it in Lake Aurora, while Julian was ring shopping.”
My head snaps in the direction of the door, where Rafael is standing in nothing but a towel.