Chapter 64

As soon as Picasso's lips found mine, I could feel any self-control of my body slowly ruining.

I didn't know if that emotion inside the chest, that tingling that started on the feet and flowed into the stomach in butterflies, would come according to how long I was away from a man, or if because I never wanted to admit that I felt more than just hatred for the owner of the favela.

But regardless of what the real answer was, I surrendered. It was the only way to release that feeling from the chest, as my hands went up to his soft hair.

My mouth opened at the first touch, as if waiting for all that moment or wanting to question if he could be having the same crazy effect that my body was trying to contain. Picasso's tongue found mine at the same moment, savoring me, tasting me, with a soft but provocative touch. His teeth lightly held my lower lip, but my mind focused on the hand he climbed to the back of my neck, clutching his fingers there.

Chil