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Trembling and gasping for air.
What the fuck?
33
“Gigi.”
The familiar voice pulls me from my panic.
“Gigi.”
I gasp for desperate breaths, my fingers clawing at my throat like the grip of my sleep paralysis continues to restrain me.
“Are you okay?” The voice almost sounds like background static.
Calm down, Gigi.
Calm the fuck down.
“Gigi,” Antonio repeats, deeper this time.
I’m not sure how long it takes me to settle myself. I don’t open my eyes, but I sense him watching me. He’s running circles with his thumb over my hand, slowly easing my anxiety.
“Just a nightmare, is all,” I finally whisper while lying on my back.
“That wasn’tjust a nightmare.”
While his tone is soothing, I know he won’t let this go.
“Just go back to sleep,” I croak. “It doesn’t matter.”
I blink, the only light source from a crack underneath the door. My muscles tense as I remember where I am and how I got here.
I went to sleep alone.
When did Antonio join me?
“Come here.” Without giving me the chance to argue, he drags me into his arms.
I rest my cheek on his warm chest.
It’s a comfort I didn’t know I needed.
While it’s not exactly morning, this is our first time technically waking up together. In Italy, he always stayed just long enough for me to orgasm and then left.
“What was the nightmare about?” he asks.
“It wasn’t a nightmare.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “It was sleep paralysis.”
He’s officially the first person I’ve disclosed this to.
“Can you explain what that is to me?” He massages the bare skin of my shoulder.
“It’s more than a nightmare. I’m awake and conscious, but I have no power over my body. My mind plays tricks on me. I’m unable to move, speak, anything really. It feels so real and fucking terrifies me.”
It’s ironic.
Antonio’s hands have killed so many men that I’m surprised the metallic stench of blood isn’t on his skin. He took me against my will, yet I’ve never felt so comfortable with someone.
