8. Lazaro

8

LAZARO

M y breath stalls as I wait, wondering if my confession will scare her away. I’m equally hopeful that it will and it won’t. I don’t trust myself not to hurt her and yet, I need her as much as I need my next breath.

“I want you too.”

Disbelief floods my mind. How can this beautiful, full of life woman want someone like me? Someone dangerous and broken?

And yet, there's no mistaking the desire in her eyes. My body moves of its own accord, closing the distance between us. One hand finds her waist while the other cups her cheek. Her skin is impossibly soft beneath my callused palm.

Time seems to slow as I lean in, giving her a chance to push me away. But she doesn't. Instead, her eyes flutter closed, and she tilts her chin up in silent invitation. Still unsure, I lean in, my lips touching hers. Her lips part, and it hits me that she’s kissing me. Really kissing me. Her mouth is warm and pliant against mine. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as if she can't get enough.

A groan escapes me as desire courses through my veins, hot and demanding. I press her more firmly against the wall, deepening the kiss. She tastes sweet, like those delicious cookies she makes.

For the first time since waking up with no memory, I feel alive. The constant tension in my body melts away, replaced by a different kind of urgency. One that has me trailing kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat.

Diana whimpers, arching into me. The sound sets my blood on fire. I want to hear it again and again.

I pin her against the wall, my body pressing flush against hers. Her tits mold against my chest. My cock nestles against her belly, igniting a fire in my veins. My hands roam her curves, eager to touch every delectable inch of her.

A low growl rumbles in my chest as Diana grinds against me, making my dick scream with need. A tether breaks. I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I’ll fucking die if I can’t have this woman.

But even as passion consumes me, fear creeps in. What if I lose control? What if the violence that lurks deep inside me bursts forth? I could hurt her without meaning to.

I rein in the need, breaking the kiss. "Diana, I?—"

She silences me with another searing kiss. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, anchoring me to her.

"I trust you,” she murmurs against my lips.

Trust. How can she trust me when I don’t trust myself? But looking into her eyes, I see no fear. Only desire and something deeper, something that makes my chest ache with longing.

I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. My body trembles with the effort of holding back, of keeping the beast within me caged.

Diana runs her fingers through my hair, her touch soothing yet electric. "Let go, Lazaro."

Those simple words shatter my restraint. With a groan, I capture her lips again, pouring all my conflicting emotions into the kiss. Fear, desire, gratitude, and something that feels dangerous… not physically, but emotionally.

But I give in, sliding her shirt up and off. She doesn’t have a bra on and her tits sway from the movement. They’re so fucking beautiful, full and round, her nipples pink and hard. My mouth waters to suck them. Cupping one, I bend over, swirling my tongue around the hard nub before sucking it into my mouth.

“Oh!” she gasps, her fingers gripping my head as I suckle. I wish I had two mouths so I could suck them both at the same time. I move to her other breast, and it’s as delicious as the other.

“Lazaro.” Her hands tug at my shirt, sliding along my skin, making me shudder. I reach over my head, gripping my collar and tugging it up and off.

Her breath catches as stunned horror flashes across her face. Only then do I remember the scars that mar my body. A map of all the violence of a past that I don’t remember. My instinct is to cover up the proof of my monstrous past, to leave, not just Diana, but Chicago, and go back to the ignorant bliss I lived in Lafayette.

“So much pain and suffering,” she breathes, like it’s breaking her heart. Her fingers hover just above a particularly nasty scar on my chest. I flinch away before she can touch me.

"Don't," I growl, harsher than I intend. "Just… don't."

The hurt that flashes across her face makes me hate myself even more. I want to explain, again, that I’m not a good person. But the words won't come. Instead, I stand there, frozen.

Then she looks at me with those warm, understanding eyes that seem to see right through me. “These scars are part of you, but they don't define you."

As much as I’m glad the sight of me doesn’t disgust her, I’m not particularly happy with the pity.

Her gaze flicks up to my face. “Can I touch them?”

Her request to touch my scars catches me off guard. I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I can't remember ever feeling before. But something in her eyes, in the gentle way she asks, makes me nod.

Her fingers hover just above the scar on my chest. I brace myself, expecting her touch to burn, to bring back the phantom pain of old wounds. Instead, as her fingertips make contact with my skin, an unexpected warmth spreads through me.

"Each of these tells a story. They're proof that you've survived, that you're strong."

I want to believe her. God, how I want to believe her. But the fear still gnaws at me, the uncertainty of who I am and what I'm capable of.

"You don't know what I've done," I say hoarsely. "What if I'm the monster everyone says I am?"

She traces each scar with a reverence that leaves me breathless. Her touch is feather-light, almost reverent, as if she's reading a story written on my skin. "The man I've gotten to know these past few days isn't a monster. Maybe he’s a little lost and confused, but he’s loyal and protective of his family. Whatever you've done in the past, whatever these scars represent, that's not who you are now. You get to choose who you want to be."

As Diana's fingers ghost over a particularly nasty scar on my ribs, I shiver. Not from revulsion or fear, but from the tenderness of her touch. It's been so long since anyone has touched me like this—like I'm something precious rather than something dangerous.

Diana's hand comes to rest over my heart, and I realize it's beating faster than normal. But it's not from fear or anger, nor simply a base need to fuck—it's from something else entirely. Something that fills me with a strange mix of terror and exhilaration.

I capture her lips again, feeling grateful that she sees me in a way I can’t even see myself. The kiss deepens, her tongue sliding against mine, and I groan into her mouth. Her hands are in my hair, pulling me closer, until I can feel her heart pounding against my chest.

I give in again to the clawing need, picking her up and carrying her to the too-small bed in the corner. I finish undressing her, taking in her beautiful body illuminated by the moon filtering through the window.

I lower her onto the bed, her gaze never leaving mine. I cover her body with mine and kiss her again, feeling like no matter how long we kissed, it would never be enough. She reaches for me, but I push her hands away.

“This will be easier if you take your pants off,” she says with a lightness in her voice.

“This will be over too fast if I take my pants off.” I wish I could have amusement in my tone, but I can’t because the need to fuck her hard and fast is difficult to control. I move down her body, my hands and lips taking in every inch of her, every smooth inch of skin. I push her thighs apart, opening her pussy to me. It glistens with her essence. The scent of her sex fills my nostrils. I dive in, needing to taste her. She’s delicious. Warm. Sweet. It’s an intoxicating elixir.

“Oh…” Her hips raise. Her fingers grip my head as I eat her out. I slip my hands under her ass, holding her to me as I lick and suck and thrust my tongue inside her body. I push her up, fast and furious, until she cries out and her juices flood my mouth.

Need roars through me as I lap up her essence. More. More. More , is all I think. So I start over. I push her thighs open wider, my mouth drinking her in.

“Oh, God… Lazaro…”

Her words drive me on, pushing me to give her orgasms she’ll never forget. No matter what happens between us, when she moves on to wherever she goes news, she’ll remember me. Remember that I made her feel good.

Soon, she’s coming again, and I want to keep eating her, but my cock is nearing the edge. I’m about to come in my pants.

With a frustrated growl, I leave her pussy, unhooking my pants and shoving them down as I move up her body. Driven with an unspeakable need, I plunge inside her body, feeling her wrap around my dick, tight, wet, hot. The sensation is so much, almost too much. But I’m too lost in the moment to do anything but drive in and out like a feral beast.

I’m vaguely aware of her fingers gripping my shoulders. Her hips rock with me. Her legs wrap around my waist, driving me in deeper.

“Yes!” She cries out again, and her pussy tightens around me like a vise.

Stars blast behind my eyes as my orgasm rockets through me, stealing my breath. “Fuck… yes…” My hips piston wildly as my pleasure floods through me like a tsunami.