Page 76

“Yes, Gio. Please, make me come,” I coo softly. “Oh God, yes,” I hiss as vibrations race through my body. “Right there.”

“Sophia,” he murmurs in a rumbling moan.

The building pleasure is so overwhelming, I cry out again. I can’t keep it in. It’s deep and husky. I open my legs wider and rock my hips faster.

“Goddamn, kitten.”

My dream is so real, I hear him say my nickname in a drawn-out, tortured manner. Dream Gio’s everywhere, touching me, breathing on me, devouring me. The pressure elevates and consumes me until, until, until⁠—

The buzzing stops.

The room falls dead silent, except for my heaving breaths. My muscles strain in a rigid stance like my body hangs in midair. It’s waiting for the release. I’m so desperate for it to happen, it takes a moment to comprehend what’s transpired.

I panic, trying to reactivate the toy. Click. Click. Click.

“Nooo!” I whine and frantically click the button again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I sit up in a wild, unsatisfied panic.

The tiny green light is now flashing red. With all my frustration, I throw the useless rod across the room. It lands near the window, leaving me coiled so tightly, I’m about to pop. I want to scream.

I flop back on my pillow and cross my arms. My fists ball near my chest, but tying up my limbs doesn’t help. I’m a volcano that needs to erupt, and I’m years overdue.

“You don’t need that thing,” a deep voice says.

My heart stops dead in my chest.

A million questions populate in my mind.

I checked to make sure I was alone, didn’t I? Was I being so loud that Gio heard me? Did he return while I was too busy to notice? Did he slip into bed while I was in the bathroom? And the worst one, when I heard my name earlier and thought it was inside my head, was it really him?

Yes, I think it was, and I kept going. Both times.

I smack a hand over my face and groan. Oh. My. God.

My lust plummets, drowned by a waterfall of embarrassment. I pivot, smash my face into the pillow, and release an unfettered scream. I don’t care who hears.

“Please don’t stop,” Gio says, sounding deadly serious.

I pause and lift my head. “What?”

“Come for me. I want to hear you come with my name on your beautiful fucking lips.” His words are intense and growly.

My waterfall surges again but in a new way. This time, it’s biblical.

It’s the wrong response, of course. I should be mortified and thrashing him with a pillow until he’s down the stairs, back on a plane, and standing in New York, but that’s my mortification talking. He’s not my enemy anymore. He’s one step below.

Regardless of what I call him, we are tumbling into new territory so fast, I forgot I told him I wanted to be his pineapple. That was only a few hours ago. I’m not even sure where my bravery to comment on his post came from. Would he notice it in the middle of the night?

I try to swallow, but a painful knot lodges in my throat. I glance toward the sheet wall, where he’s on the other side.

“Sophia?”

Gio calling my name in this new heartbreaking voice cuts through my internal meltdown. He made a request. He wants me to come and say his name, and he’s waiting for my response.

I want to, so badly. But, but . . .

I hold my breath and consider sharing something private, something I’ve never told anyone—not my friends, and certainly not an almost-enemy. The only exception is someone I refuse to think about right now.

I’m not sure why, but my long-held secret falls out before I have time to consider whether it’s a good idea to share something so intimate.