Submission

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I lean forward on my hands

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I lean forward on my hands. Tilting my back to allow for a sensual curve, I seductively move toward him, my eyes framed by loose, wavy hair. I crawl only a few feet, but by the time I reach his legs, I'm breathing heavily from excitement and my knees burn from contact with the carpet.

There's no warmth or affection in his eyes. My stomach twitches with anxiety.

I run my fingers up his shins and over the tops of his thighs. Rafa seems vaguely disgusted, and a bolt of fear goes through me. What am I doing wrong? What's happening?

Running my hands to the junction of his thighs, I'm satisfied that at least one part of him is aroused and happy. I rub my palm up his erection. My fingers itch to undress him, and my hands go to his fly.

I've decided to ignore his mood and skip right to sex when he leans forward. In a flash, he gathers a fistful of hair at the back of my head and pulls enough so I feel a sting. I gasp and grin, because he knows I'm turned on by rough play.

But my surge of desire quickly evaporates when I see him sneer.

"Why do you not want to honor the details of our agreement?" He releases his hand from my head and sits back. I rest on my heels, stunned.

Furious, I stand, placing a bare knee on his thigh and my hands on the chair's arms. I lean toward him, ready for confrontation. Our faces are only inches apart as we glare at each other. He's never raised a hand to me or tried to touch me in anger, and I'm not about to be intimidated by him now.

My voice drips with fury. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought I asked you to decline invitations from other men during our month together." Red tinges the tops of Rafael's sharp cheekbones.

"I've had no invit—" I stop. "Oh. Shit. Mark from the café? Is that what this is about?" I sigh and roll my eyes. He can't be serious. "Oh, Rafa. Come on. Mark?"

He snorts. "Oh. Are there others? Are you lining up dates for when I leave?"

"Dammit, Rafael, no. I stopped for tea while you were in Miami, and Mark asked me to dinner."

"And? What did you say? He's definitely counting the days until he can see you. That's what he told me. And I didn't realize you were so eager to go out with him. Please, don't let me stop you."

Through gritted teeth, I respond in a clipped tone. "I told him I was busy. I didn't say yes or set a date. I'm not interested, I told you that. Don't be jealous. It's not attractive."

Rafa's eyes narrow into slits, and he squirms away from me, setting his glass on a nearby end table. His indifferent demeanor makes my nostrils flare. I notice that his eyes keep drifting back to my exposed nipples, which are tight and hard.

"Don't you think I would have already gone out with him if I was interested? I've known him for two years."

Rafa meets my gaze with a vengeful glare. "I don't know what to think about you. Or whether I can trust you. But I'm sure Mark would love to see you in that expensive lingerie. It's gorgeous on you. Don't tell him what you had to do to get it."

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