Page 119 of Corrado

Corrado looked at her, then, something unknown flashing across his face. “Huh.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I just … wish you would quit doing that. Surprising me, I mean. You should tell me to fuck off right now, not ask when my birthday was. Don’t care about me, Ginny.”

“Why not? Is that such a bad thing?”

“Because I’m only going to hurt you.”

She shrugged.

“But will you really, though?”

Corrado’s jaw tensed, and he let out a hard breath that almost sounded like defeat. “Girl, you have no idea the mess you just walked into here. No fucking idea at all.”

Probably not.

A part of her still didn’t care, either.

“Now, go,” he uttered.

Ginevra did, but not because he told her to. No, she spun around and left the gym because the ache between her thighs was so deep now that if she didn’t do something, then there was no telling what might happen. She was positive Corrado had been able to see the heat climbing in her cheeks, and the way she clenched her legs together in an effort to soothe that ache.

She didn’t need to be more humiliated.

This was enough.

And yet, even as she put distance between her and Corrado—one step after another until she was inside her bedroom, and slamming the door behind her—it did nothing. Nothing to help the heat curling around her throat like it was his hand there, squeezing tight. Nothing to make the need coursing through her bloodstream go away. Nothing to help the clenching of her muscles, or the fact she couldn’t catch her breath. Nothing to make that fucking stupid ache better.

How did a kiss make her that crazy?

That stupid?

That high?

God.

It was unfair.

And she just needed to feel better.

Ginevra’s back hit the door, and she acted on her need, and nothing else. Slipping a hand under the waistband of her cotton sleep shorts, she found her pussy wet already. Not that she was surprised, she’d felt the fucking wetness back there with him. It’d been far too long since she’d had release, or even thought about it, really.

Life was more important.

Everything else came first.

She came last.

But not right now.

Ginevra’s fingers worked that wetness she found at her slit higher, rubbing it into her throbbing clit with small, tight circles that had her whining, and grinding into her own hand. More, that’s what she needed.

So much fucking more.

She thought about him, then, and the way he watched her when he thought she didn’t see. The way his mouth felt as it worked against hers. How his hands felt splayed along her skin, or grabbing tight like he didn’t want to let her go.

Those circles at her clit came faster.