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“Fuck,” he murmurs, pushing further inside me. His other hand grabs onto my thigh, lifting it up. He pushes his upper body onto mine.
He pushes another finger inside me while his thumb moves in circular motions on my clit. My chest feels tight, and my head falls back, welcoming everything he’ll give me.
“Not like this.” His voice sounds husky.
Not like what?“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I ask.
He lets me go, pulling my dress back down. His head is shaking back and forth as if he wants to go against his words.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I will talk to you how I want, Gio. That’s the greatest thing about having you wrapped around my finger.”
His jaw tightens as his hands roam over his jaw to hide his smile. “Careful what you say to me, little one.”
His words float in my head as I watch him walk back to the room full of my family. My hand rubs the spot on my neck where Giovanni’s lips were pressed to my skin. The spot is tender.
I know exactly what that means. There is no way in hell I will be able to walk out there now, and he made sure of it.
I pull my phone out of my purse.
Me: Bring me a jacket, or a dress. Maybe a scarf. I don’t know, just come to the bathroom please.
I hit send, and after a short minute, my sister walks in with a navy cardigan. I quickly grab it from her and put it on before she can ask any questions.
“Oh, you did not,” she says as her hand slaps against her running mouth.
“I did not!”
“You so did.”
“Ana, not right now.”
“Yes, right now! Did he dump that on you?” Her eyes crease from the smile on her face. “Nina, you’re going to be in the doghouse.”
“Yes,idiota, I know. Do you have concealer or anything?”
“I do.” She grabs a small tube out of her bag, and I snatch it from her.
“Was it the bartender?”
I freeze as I look up at her.How did they not see everything that happened? Do I tell her the truth?
I don’t say anything as I step toward the mirror, putting the makeup on my neck like a teenager hiding her mistakes from her parents.
I can still feel every touch of Gio’s on my skin. What did he mean by he would make sure of it?
“No.” I finally reply to my sister. “Ana?”
“What?” She looks scared by the sound of her name with a question attached.
I dab the red spot on my neck, trying to cover it up. “What do you do when . . .?” I pause mid-sentence, trying to figure out how to explain this in a way she won’t be able to trace it back to the man responsible for the mark on my neck. “When you want a piece of chocolate but you’re a diabetic?”
I want a man I can’t have. And now I sound freaking ridiculous trying to get an outsider’s opinion with a stupid analogy.What the hell am I even supposed to do now?
“But Nina, you’re not diabetic.”
“That’s not the point.” I huff. “Never mind.”
