[Anglais] À travers ma fenêtre

11

I'm going to have a heart attack.

I can feel my poor heart beating desperately in my chest, and I'm sure Ares feels it too. He's still pressed against me, and the heat emanating from his body warms my back. His hand is on my hip, and my nerves make my muscles tense and my breathing quicken.

You owe me one . . .

Ares's words echo in my head.

His breath caresses the side of my neck, giving me goose bumps. Slowly, Ares's hand moves up over my dress until he reaches my ribs. I stop breathing as his hand stops just below my left breast and remains there.

"Your heart is going to burst," he whispers in my ear.

I lick my lips. "It must be the alcohol."

Ares's lips brush my ear. "No, it's not."

He begins to leave wet kisses on my neck, moving up to lick my earlobe. I feel my legs weaken at the sensation of his lips on that sensitive part of my body. "Did you enjoy it?"

His question confuses me. "What?"

"Leaving me horny?"

I gasp at his raw words. As if to emphasize his point, his hand moves down from my chest to my hip and presses me even closer to him. That's when I feel how hard he is. I know I should pull away from him, but his tongue licks, his lips suck, and his teeth bite into the skin of my neck, driving me crazy.

Don't fall into his game, Raquel.

"I know you just want revenge," I whisper, thinking that maybe this will make him give up.

"Revenge?" He smiles into my skin and his hand moves up to my breasts once more, but this time he massages them shamelessly. I shiver in his arms. It's the first time a boy has touched me like that.

"I know that's what you want," I say, biting my lip to hold back a moan.

"That's not what I want."

"So, what do you want?"

His hand leaves my breasts, and his fingers trace a line down my stomach. I jump when his hand touches between my legs. "This is what I want."

Okay, that's very clear.

Ares takes the edge of my dress and slides it up painfully slowly. My heart has already suffered through two heart attacks and survived. I have no idea why I'm letting him touch me like this again. Or maybe I do, because I've always been drawn to him in an inexplicable way. Ever since I saw him playing soccer in his backyard when we were kids, his stoic expression and cold eyes caught my attention. He was just a kid and there was already something mysterious about him that made me want to know more, made me want to find a way to make him smile and abandon that bitter expression. To this day, I still want to see more of him. I want all of him.

A slight murmur of denial leaves my lips as Ares slips his hand under my dress, his fingers moving up and down over my underwear. His slow torture continues as I unconsciously begin to move my hips back toward him, wanting all of him pressed against me. Ares growls softly, and it's the sexiest sound I've ever heard in my life.

"Raquel, I can feel how wet you are through your panties."

The way he says my name makes the pressure in my belly grow. I'm nibbling on my lower lip so hard to keep myself from moaning that I'm afraid I'll bleed. His torture continues, slow, up and down, circles . . . I need more. I want more.

"Ares . . ."

"Yes?" His voice is no longer that robotic, cold voice I'm used to. It's guttural and his breathing is inconsistent. "Do you want me to touch you there?"