Page 94 of Falling for Mr. October

And I’ll be damned. There never was a stronger motivation for doing a workout. Every man alive would have abs of steel if they had Bianca as their trainer, although the thought of another man touching her makes me want to breathe fire.

It doesn’t take either of us long to get close. I can feel Bianca clenching around me, and the sensation makes me wild with need.

“Please,” I groan against her lips the next time I rise to kiss her—and she lowers to grind her hips against me, taking me in deep. “Please let me wrap my arms around you. Let me touch you.”

It feels important for her to say yes. She holds my gaze, her eyes softening, and nods.

“Thank God,” I say, wrapping my arms around her as I lift my hips to get even more of her. I want to worship her, to make her feel, to make her smile. I want so badly to make it good for her.

I use one hand to cup the base of her neck, and with the other I reach around to pull her close as I thrust into her, wild now, and she makes a wanton sound I will remember forever.

I feel her come apart, squeezing me so tight I’m surprised my dick doesn’t snap off, and then releasing, the sensation so intense my own orgasm is seconds after hers. And still I rock into her, taking more. Wanting it all.

When I finally pull out and look at her, stunned, unmoored, she’s staring back at me with the same emotions in her gaze.

She smiles. “Well, that was some day.”

Dio mio, was it ever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

BIANCA

I lie on my bed the next morning, my eyes wide open, not even doomscrolling on my phone, although I did glance at the screen when I first woke up and saw I have a horrific number of notifications.

If I go down to the kitchen, I know Giovanni will be there. I already smell something delicious coming to life downstairs—apples and cinnamon and butter.

Maybe he’s practicing for our pie, already.

It would be simple enough to find out. I could go down there and ask to sample whatever genius creation he’s making.

But I’m not so sure I know how to act around Giovanni anymore. Fucking your fake boyfriend once can be written off as an understandable mistake. Twice on the same day? Still very understandable if you’re fake dating Giovanni Cafiero, but it has all the hallmarks of a pattern.

What’s more, the nonnas arrived home soon after we got dressed last night, and Giovanni came downstairs to greet them—Mr. Geniality—and suggested a game of pinochle.

I’d be lying if I said pinochle is just an old-lady game and that I don’t know how to play. After all, I’ve spent my whole career working primarily with the elderly. But I was surprised he knew how to play.

Turns out it’s a game he used to play with his nonno, which touched my heart. Obviously, I had to agree to a round or two. My willpower is only so strong.

Giovanni made us all spiced cider and thoughtfully spiked mine with the old whiskey, clearly intuiting that I needed it after the day I’d had.

Not that it was a bad day.

Yes, I almost burned down my place of employment, and I am now hated by several strangers on the internet, but it was a good day. Maybe even a really good day.

I couldn’t seem to stop smiling as we played the game with the nonnas, even though my grandmother kept asking pointed questions about the fire and if I was going to get fired for almost burning down the building.

Nonna Francesca, it must be said, didn’t seem to give a shit about the fire. She kept giving Giovanni and me satisfied glances, as if she knew we’d spent half the day fornicating. Admittedly, that knowledge wouldn’t please her unless she thought we were also picking out names for her future great-grandchildren or selecting colors for our wedding.

So, yeah, it was a great night. And once I was tucked into my bed, I pressed my hand to the wall, thinking of Giovanni there on the other side, lying with his head cradled by a pillow. Thinking of him lying underneath me, letting me take control.

Before I closed my eyes, I sent him a text:

Read the book.

Immediately, three dots appeared, and I smiled as I waited for them to become words.

Are you that eager to get to the book club book?