Page 33 of Out of Control

“Says the man standing before you. You know, the man you decided to go slumming with when you asked him into your bed.”

She gasps as her eyes widen and expression falls. She shakes her head, rejecting the words she now knows I heard.

Something I had no intention of telling her. Guess that cat’s out of the bag.

“Rossi.” I stare at her stone-faced. “Ollie. I didn’t—”

“You won’t be the first to think it. You won’t be the last. No skin off my back,” I lie and shrug to sell it. Because she’s not the only one being hurt by words here. “You’re the one selling yourself short.”

“I have to go.”

“The carriage turns into a pumpkin at midnight?” I ask, so very perplexed over how I’m feeling.

I want her. Plain. Simple. Have I had multiple women since Blair broke off our relationship last year? Yes, and I’m not ashamed of it. But no one has tempted me for a repeat. With Blair, it was just . . . easy. Comfortable. We grew up together, then we grew apart. I took advantage of that history for some time. I’m not proud of it, but it is what it is, and we’ve both moved on.

But Sofia is right in a sense. I didn’t have it in me to stick to Blair. I’d be gone in a heartbeat. Not like I’m going to fucking tell her that, but there is something about Sofia Navarro that has taken hold and that I can’t seem to shake loose no matter how hard I try.

Call it lust. Call it infatuation. Call it magnetism.

Maybe it’s that I can relate to the need to be someone else for a while. The want to hide behind something else instead of face some harsh truths.

And maybe it’s because a part of me needs her to understand just how free she’ll feel when she finally does something for herself. Hell, if she thought a weekend at a music festival was enlightening then a lifetime of it would be liberating.

She’s struggling with whatever she’s wrestling against. I can assume, but that’s not my place. I’ve been conflicted like she is. I had to learn that my duty and time had been served and that I was only truly happy when I lived for myself.

“No,” she finally says, referring to my carriage question. But I can see the confusion in her eyes. The conflict in her posture.

“Then why are you running if there’s nothing here worth running away from?” I ask as she purses her lips and shifts on her feet. “But you’re not leaving, are you? There’s all this space around us and yet you’re standing right here in front of me.” My tone is gentle, understanding.

“I can’t . . .”

Slumming? She’s full of shit. She doesn’t believe it either. The waver in her voice and the sincerity in her eyes tell me. Besides, if she did believe it—the word I’m more certain than ever she used to shut her brother’s bullshit down—she’d be long gone by now.

I can’t . . . but her presence here? It’s a testament to how she sure as hell wants to.

Maybe I can help her along with that. Call me a selfish bastard since I’ll most definitely benefit from it. I’ll wear the label as proudly as I’ll wear her kiss on my skin.

“What you need to figure out, Sofia, is whether you’re going to live for you or live for them. It’s a fucking hard, terrifying leap, but one you need to take or you’ll never truly be happy.”

“You’re telling me you’re happy? That you’re thrilled with being at Gravitas with a teammate you don’t particularly seem to like?”

Even footing.

That’s what she’s doing. Barking back to find the shaky ground beneath her feet. But this time, I’m going to rock it a bit more.

“I’m me, Bellissima. The good. The bad. The arrogant. The no fucks to give. And I think that scares you when it comes to me. That I don’t care what people think or what they say. That includes your family, your brother, the press . . . anyone. I make my own bed. I lie in it. And I sleep just fucking fine.”

God. She’s gorgeous. Even with her eyebrows narrowed and her eyes willing for me to walk away. To be who she needs me to be. To not be who she wants. She’s exquisite, and that pulls on parts of me I wasn’t aware could be pulled on.

But I did try to walk away. I did try to respect her. She’s the one who pulled me back. She’s the one who pursued when she said she wasn’t pursuing.

I step forward, fill the space between us so she’s forced to look at me, to meet my eyes. “When’s the last time you felt alive, Sofia? Be honest with yourself.” She opens her mouth and then closes it, struggling to speak the truth. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t have to.” The words are whispered, and I know the answer she’s refusing to acknowledge.

I chuckle and watch the goosebumps chase over her skin despite the warm night air. “You’re right. You don’t have to, but we both know the answer. We both know it was with me.” I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and then rest my hand on the curve of her shoulder. Her pulse beats erratically beneath the pad of my thumb as I lean in and put my lips near her ear. “You can discount me, Bellissima. You can believe whatever it is, whoever it is that’s telling you things about me. You can hold tight to those family rules you think you need to hold tight to in order to be loved by them. You can write me off and ignore the sense I’m making all you want. But you know when you lie in your bed at night, when you cup those gorgeous tits of yours, and when you slide your fingers down and part that pretty little cunt of yours, that you’re thinking of me. Of how I felt buried in you. Of how I tasted. Of how fucking alive I made you feel.” I take a step back, teeth sunk into my bottom lip, and just hold her eyes. “You deserve to feel that way all the time. The question is, Simply Sofia, how long are you going to deprive yourself from feeling it again?”

Her breath is shaky and the darkening of her pupils turns me on. “You’re full of shit.”