The End of Tomorrow by Tara Brown Read Free Book Online

down on the table in the middle of the room that still held my awestruck attention. It was fabulous. I parted my lips to say so, but he held a finger up, pausing me as if I were a remote-controlled device.
    He flashed a bright light from the object and then turned to face me, undoing his pants. “Let’s finish.”
    I stepped back. “What was that?”
    “A device I got from someone you don't know, and the technical language it would require to describe it to you would be wasted air on my part.”
    “Wait.” I paused, translating it all. “Did you just call me stupid?” He did. I rehashed it twice before his answer came with a smile and the dropping of his pants. “No.”
    He held a hand out to me.
    “No,” I said again as I stepped back. “You just called me dumb and you expect me to rush over and let you fuck me?”
    He nodded, continuing to hold his hand out.
    I scoffed, turning and walking into the bathroom and locking the door. “Asshole!” I muttered, leaning against the counter. I stripped down, suddenly needing to be clean from the feeling of him. I dragged the lashes off, wincing in the mirror as I tried to avoid eye contact with myself. I needed a refresher course on why my vagina wasn’t in charge of decision making, especially where Servario was concerned.
    I stepped into the huge marble shower that could have been a sizeable walk-in closet and cranked the hot water. I sat on the bench and let the ceiling rain down on me. The water smelled like roses had been soaking in it all day long, as if the hotel had prepared the water just for my shower.
    I closed my eyes, letting makeup run down my cheeks. The water felt like tears, but I didn't have any. I didn't feel guilty about Coop, which was insane. I didn't feel guilty that I was living a giant lie. Somewhere inside me I believed Servario and I were meant to be together. I loved him more than I had ever loved a person, except for my children. For me that was enough of an excuse to tolerate his bullshit.
    But I had a feeling that deep inside me there had been a line drawn in the sand, or rather the bathroom floor. I was no longer willing to play that we weren’t more than this—me pretending to be his whore and him taking advantage of the timing and my heart.
    If he could be greedy with his heart I could be so with mine. A loud blast interrupted my pep talk. I glanced up to see he’d kicked the door in. I sighed, hating that we were this couple, the one everyone else in the hotel suffered through the noise of.
    “Not right now, Servario. I’m not in the mood.”
    He didn't strip down. He stepped into the shower—pants, shirt, socks, and all. He lifted me from the seat with a rough tug, jerking me into his arms. I tried to knee him in the balls, but he blocked it, kissing me at the same time. He pinned me, holding me tightly as he tore down his pants. His tongue explored my reluctant mouth, stroking and caressing with the hot water pouring down on us, flooding our faces.
    He sat down on the bench where I had been, dragging me into his lap again. I wrestled, resisting his grip but it was futile. He pulled me down on top of him, his erection resting between the swollen lips of my pussy. He didn't say much; he just kissed, not entering me.
    We held each other in the rain, tempted by every movement but not daring enough to take the final plunge. I wanted him to do it, and I assumed he wanted me to be the one. Finally, he whispered, “Ask me to fuck you.”
    “No.” I shook my head, sliding along his rough cheek to bite his ear.
    “Beg me, Evie. Beg me to fuck you.”
    I shook my head again, whispering in his ear as I dragged my teeth down the lobe, “No.” I climbed off, grabbing the soap from the decorative shelf where they had folded all the shower essentials so neatly. I washed as he sat getting soaked in his expensive Italian pants and dress shirt. His hazel eyes watched me, watched every move like a tiger hunting a gazelle.
    I took long,