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The relaxed features are more breathtaking than the scowling or glowering ones. His jaw is loose, and I wonder if he ever drools. He must, otherwise life is not fair.
I sit on the sofa across from him and pull out my phone to check the media coverage and start on a final report from this round of events. I’m returning to California on Tuesday, so I might as well get started on it now.
Gio startles and sits up. “Oh, you’re up.” He picks up his tablet and runs his hand down his face before he stands up and heads toward the bathroom.
As I watch his retreating ass, I can’t help but admire the firm muscles. He enters the bathroom, and my beat of voyeurism reminds me of last night again. I groan.
“Did you get some shuteye?” He returns and sits opposite me.
“Hm.” I pretend to be working, but I can feel his gaze.
“Do you feel better?”
What the hell is he asking? I snap my eyes at him. “Yes,” I spit. I guess the shuteye didn’t improve my mood either. God, I just want to be home.
“Mila.” It’s a demand, and I find myself immediately drowning in his gaze.
He opens his mouth and then closes it. He adjusts his cuffs. Here we go, he is bracing for… what?
I don’t want to rehash last night.
I don’t want to think about the connection I felt with him.
How his kiss made me feel cherished. How his urgent hands on me felt deliriously amazing. Him losing control, even for a moment, made me feel like a goddess, gave me a needed jolt of self-confidence.
Then he stomped all over it.
I don’t want to talk about misinterpreting the whole thing, because clearly for him it was a moment of insanity he quickly corrected. And now he’s probably worried about legal consequences.
He suggested he would figure this out. And used that stupid Princess name, so I just assumed we wanted the same thing.
There is a reason I stay away from relationships and focus on occasional hot hookups. I don’t understand men. And Brian left me so wounded, I misread the signs.
I might be attracted to Gio Cassinetti, my boss, but he’s pulled back several times, and stupid me, I haven’t gotten the message. I chose to ignore it each time.
And yet, there is a distinct predatory look in his dark eyes, drowning me in a pool of self-doubt and confusion.
Gio clears his throat. “Winesty moment, Princess.”
His voice is darker than his stare, and I realize I’m too weak to survive this man. I’m already too deep in this need to unravel the mystery of him. The weird curiosity to find all his hidden parts, parts he almost allowed me to see but still hides really well.
I exhale. “I would rather not.” My voice is an octave higher, floating through the cabin on a breeze.
“Too bad, because I need to explain,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, but the urgency of the delivery is unmistakable.
“I don’t want to hear it, Gio. Can you spare me?” I should have stayed in that stupid bedroom.
“Winesty, please.” He uses please, but it’s a demand, not a plea.
Clearly he’s worried about last night, but fuck if I didn’t have enough humiliation to last me a lifetime. It’s not like he has to see me ever again. Why does he need to discuss this?
“Mila,” he urges.
“Okay. Say what you need to say and let’s get it over with.” I fold my arms across my chest and raise my chin. I can pretend.
“I didn’t want to take advantage of you last night, after the accident and the nightmare.”
Wait? What?
