Anthonio didn’t pull away slowly or gently. He snapped back as if burned, the warmth and hunger vanishing from his face in less than a second, replaced instantly by that familiar, impenetrable mask of ice and stone.
He straightened up, stepping back far enough that the air rushed back in between us, cold and empty. His hands moved quickly, one hand yanking my shorts back into place, smoothing the fabric down over my hips like he hadn’t just had his fingers inches away from my most sensitive skin. The other hand brushed down my sweater, tugging it straight, fixing every wrinkle, every shift, every trace of how he’d manhandled me onto his desk.
He looked at me. No trace of the man who had been about to kiss me senseless just seconds ago. Just cold, blue eyes that saw everything and gave aw
