If I stay another second I’ll beg for more.
So Itake another retreating step, snatch my towel off the floor, and walk away.
Chapter
Eighteen
ISLA
I sink against the window,sliding until my ass hits the carpet, my robe gaping wide enough for the temperature-controlled draft to prickle over my skin.
In the bathroom, Raffael runs water, loud and unrelenting.
I picture him at the basin, scrubbing me from his hands, his mouth, his memory. Erasing the evidence of what just happened with the same ruthless efficiency he once used to erase our friendship.
Yet this is exactly what I asked for—proof he could walk away.
I cinch the robe tight until the belt digs into my waist, feeling more naked than a newborn.
The water stops.
Deafening silence follows.
I brace for the thud of his retreating footsteps. For the confirmation I mean nothing to him.
Instead, the padding of his feet draws near.
He pauses in the doorway, his silhouette cutting into my periphery.
I keep my gaze fixed on my ankles, well aware I’m the picture of defeat, my determination laying waste on the plush carpet.
He approaches and I drop my head lower, as if that could hide my humiliation.
“Isla.” He stops a foot in front of me.
I can’t bring myself to look up. Not when I’m the wreckage of my own doing.
“Isla.” This time the syllables scrape, frayed at the edges.
I drag in a strengthening breath and raise my chin.
His eyes are dark, almost unreadable, except for the guilt-ridden glint that punches straight through me.
“Here.” He extends something toward me. “I got you this.”
My throat tightens as a damp washcloth hangs between us, slowly dripping on the floor.
A peace offering?
The possibility wedges itself between the burn of shame and the fragile flicker of relief, choking me until I can barely swallow.
I take the cloth, unsure how to clean myself in front of him without increasing my humiliation. But before I can lower my hand, his fingers wrap around my wrist and he tugs me to my feet.
I tense as he lifts me into his arms. No warning. No chance to protest.
He carries me into my bathroom, sets me down in front of the shower, then reaches around me to turn on the spray.
I clutch my robe lapels in one hand, the damp cloth in the other, while he remains behind me, his heat seeping into my back.