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His body, hot and large, covers me completely as he nuzzles my neck.
“That’s what you get for sneaking to work and leaving me alone in your enormous bed.” Not that he was the only one getting some.
“If this is the result, I might just work a bit more.” He bites my shoulder.
I groan. “You missed your presentation.”
“And I don’t regret it, Princess. You might fuck me out of my workaholic ways.”
I laugh, and it earns me another slap on my ass. Gio pulls out, cleans me with tissues, spins me and sits me at his desk.
“Thank you for sneaking in,” he whispers, swiping my hair from my forehead. “You’re beautiful at any given moment, but I adore this just-fucked softness.” He kisses my forehead and butterflies flutter in my stomach.
How did we get this far, this fast? The intimacy of this moment is equal parts comfortable and scary. Is he feeling it as well?
There is still the problem of us working together, and the cloud of him footing the bill for Annie’s nurse, but this thing between us is growing. For me, certainly.
He stayed with me in St. Martin. He’s been working from home more and he’s been taking time off—an hour here and there—from his busy schedule. We go for strolls, which I usually spend trying to spot his security service. We go to bookstores, and for dinners in small hole-in-the-wall diners.
We also go to upscale restaurants, and we flew to two benefits together out of town. We mix my normal with his normal and enjoy it. But can I hope for more, or for longer?
“Let’s play hooky today.” I wrap my legs around his waist.
A shadow passes across his face, but then he smiles, the dimples and all. “Okay.”
He laughs when my jaw drops.
“Am I really changing your workaholic ways?” I snake my arms around his neck.
He kisses me, leaving his forehead against mine. “You’re certainly impeding my productivity.”
We grin at each other, completely engulfed by the closeness we’ve discovered. I never expected this when I signed the damn contract, and while I hate how this whole relationship started, I don’t regret any minute of it.
Uncovering the layers of this complex man who shows the world only his composed, carefully tailored public side has been wonderful. With every new discovery, my defenses weaken. I’m falling. Hard.
Gio tugs a strand behind my ear, caressing my cheek. “Marry me.”
I throw my head back, laughing.
“Why is that funny?” he growls, squeezing my hips tighter.
I snap my eyes to him, meeting with his grave expression. Jesus. Is he serious? I hoped for more and longer, but this makes little sense. Too much. Too soon. “I’m sorry, I guess the grand romantic proposal threw me off. We’ve been dating for two weeks, Gio, don’t be ridiculous.”
His face hardens, his eyes edge with annoyance, and my laughter dies.
I shiver, and the pleasant atmosphere of the morning dissipates under his stare and his words.
“You’re serious?” My heart pulses in my temples, the deafening pound drowning me. Gio says something. Or I think he does because his lips are moving.
He cups my face, the caress fogging my mind even further. Lowering his mouth to mine, he gives me a kiss. It’s a chaste peck, barely brushing my lips, but it’s more intimate than a wild, hungry make-out session. What is happening right now?
“I wanted to talk to you about it tonight, but we may as well discuss it now.” He opens the drawer and hands me a folder. A bright yellow folder just like the one his lawyer pushed across the table to me after Christmas.
I should move my hand and take it from him, but I’m frozen.
Exposed.
And not only because he’s standing between my legs and I’m practically naked. I look at the folder, and then up at him.
