Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
JC
Everything feels more vivid and fragile at the same time. Hazy details sharpen into hyper-real focus: crumpled sheets, our mingled scents, liquid fire rippling through my veins. I’m still hard, buried inside Gia, paralyzed from the chaos of release.
A million emotions ball in my throat.
“Hey,” I manage with great difficulty. “You okay?” I brush hair from her forehead, scanning her face for signals. “Nothing hurts?”
Gia blinks up at me, eyes deep-sea dark. Swallowing air in deep, earthy gulps. Her entire body, all the precious inches of her skin connected with mine, trembles. “Everything hurts. But in a good way.” Then, in a tentative voice, she asks, “Was it okay for you?”
My abs feel shredded. A slow, burning coil of an orgasm snaked through every muscle as I clawed back my instinct to plunder and fuck her.
Despite my need, I rode her steadily but also carefully, until her intense arousal caught me off guard.
Whimpers funneling into wide-eyed gasps of her own building pleasure. How wildly she came.
No wonder my entire body is a mass of tingling sensations.
I feel this quiet amazement, to be her first.
My heart brims with so many things.
I brush a kiss onto her forehead. “You were perfect.” And because Gia seems to be cataloging every micro-expression with a look I can’t decode, I ask, “Did you like it?”
A laugh spills from her lips. “It was so fast. But it felt good. You feel good.”
She molds her hands over my backside, and I shiver, my body a live wire of sensitivity. Her touch feels different now, more tender, more significant. Suddenly nothing feels simple.
And Gia would surely deny needing the surge of protectiveness that rumbles through me, but she has to realize continuing forward now carries completely different stakes.
I should say something. Anything that marks this as a significant moment. But words feel too small, and my throat is tight with things I don’t know how to name. I don’t want to move yet, but I can feel her ribs expanding beneath me, working for each breath beneath my weight.
I slowly pull out and roll off her, dropping onto my back beside her. I feel slow and delirious, like medication slowly fizzing through my bloodstream, all the unknown emotions I fought free to roam.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
Gia’s soft voice has an undercurrent that sounds a little soul-baring. Her lashes flicker self-consciously, and my gaze follows hers south, onto the condom streaked with red.
The weight of the silence shifts.
I’m now part of her story in a way that can’t be undone. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but it kind of is. Despite the intense desire to keep her close, a little privacy goes a long way.
“Take your time.” My voice is low and thick. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
Not one sound in particular makes my heart surge—it’s the combination of the soft rustle of the sheets as Gia untangles herself, the patter of her feet across the floor, water running in the shower.
My worldview before narrowed to one possibility: living every day as the guy who takes her to wild, dirty heights.
How catastrophically short-sighted.
Because that wasn’t just sex; it was ceremonial. Bigger than the act itself. Nothing in my life has ever compared to this moment. Sated and deliciously at peace, my body still trembles with little aftershocks.
Of course, this bliss couldn’t last.
My phone pings, and I stare up at the lace curtains, giving my head a little shake.
Really?
Now, of all times?
I debate not answering, but it might be Sawyer or one of the boys. I roll over, reach for my jeans, and tug my phone out of the front pocket. A cold shot of panic zips through me as I stare at the message from Amber glowing in the dark. Is this some cosmic joke?
AD: Can you meet tomorrow night after the show?
The silence stretches, spreading out until it covers the entire room. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the roller coaster in my stomach keeps churning. Part of me is relieved to face this, to put to bed what’s been running amok in my mind for years.
The other part is pure resentment.
For an entire year, I waited for Amber to come back to me.
To call, email, or send one lousy text to ease my anxiety.
I got sweet fuck all. Now she shows up, intruding at the worst possible time.
Cold resolve settles over me, and I power off the phone, dropping it on the floor.
Amber can wait, wonder, and worry—experience the same shit I did on all those sleepless nights.
I yank the sheet across my torso and try to relax.
My thoughts race and scatter. It’s a lie to say I genuinely have no idea why she wants to get together.
We both made mistakes—painful, misinformed ones.
Yes, I’d like to take back everything I said or didn’t say, but I’ve spent too many years excusing her.
And now, what I thought might never be with Gia suddenly feels possible.
And Amber’s not stealing that from me.
To regain my bearings before Gia returns, I dispose of the condom, tidy myself up with Kleenex from the box on the nightstand, and double-check my phone is off.
By the time she emerges from the bathroom, my breathing has steadied.
The sky outside glows from the light of the moon, and she’s like a shadow crossing the room, quietly crawling into bed to snuggle up to me.
“That was so good,” she whispers. “Thank you.”
I stroke her still-damp hair, no longer loose-limbed because Amber robbed me of this moment. “I...” Air, breathing—somehow, it’s all eluding me. “I booked you a massage tomorrow after lunch.”
She shifts to meet my eyes, smiling at me in a way that hurts because she’s where I want to be: lost in the high of us. “Really? You make me feel like a queen. Next time will be even better. I promise.”
I barely hear her words, my mind spinning to tomorrow night. Seconds tick by before I find my voice, trying to joke my way out of self-preservation mode. “I might need some time.”
Gia murmurs, “I’m in no rush,” and then we’re kissing—deep ones and soft ones, reckless tongue-probing ones. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced anything so chaotically powerful. But it’s also confusing. I see Amber in my head but feel Gia.
I pull back, lost in a hundred jumbled memories, leaving Gia staring up at me, expectantly waiting for me to say something.
When I don’t, she asks, “Are you okay?”
Jesus. This can’t be happening.
“Yeah, sorry. I just ... it’s all a little overwhelming.”
With the softest of touches, Gia palms my cheek. I desperately want to fess up and not be that person skulking behind her back with secrets and drama. Safety and comfort are within my reach, but I’m not sure I can reach for them.
“That’s so sweet,” she says. “You handled it perfectly. Handled me in all the right ways.”
“Good.” I mean it with all my heart. “C’mere.” I shift slightly so her head rests on my chest then kiss the crown of her hair. Breathe slow and deep to quiet my thumping heart. She snugs closer, spooning her warm body against mine.
For a long minute, we’re quiet, two lovers in the dark.
“Hey.” She traces the length of my arm with her finger.
“Hi. All good?”
She sighs, and it sounds fatigued but content. “I think I’m going to fall asleep.”
I turn my head to press one final kiss on her soft lips. “Sweet dreams, my queen. See you in the morning. And thank you for trusting me.”
Gia’s sweet face hovers, her eyes blinking up at me. It looks like she’s waiting for me to say more. To say what she said to me the other night. But I can’t. Not yet.
Soon, though.
Once I clear my heart and my conscience.
We meet Sawyer for lunch at the hotel in a bright, obsessively tidy restaurant called Saltz. The view is almost worth the overblown prices. Lake Zurich gleams like a postcard through the wall of windows facing east—pale yellow sun on calm water, mountains soaring over a bright green band of trees.
We’re already seated with coffees and laughing at a Mr. Beast video on YouTube when Sawyer strolls in at eleven on the dot.
“Great spot.” He takes in the pristine eliteness with a nod of approval. Give him super fussy over frumpy any day. “A little out of the way, but worth it. We could’ve hopped in the same taxi.”
I said nothing about us staying the night. One less thing for him to pounce all over.
“Hi,” he says to Gia, who looks improbably beautiful with cheeks flushed a gorgeous shade of orgasms-still-hitting-hard pink.
We slept in hard, and she was still sore upon waking, so I let my tongue guide her over the edge while she fisted my hair.
Every shift of her body beside mine reminds me of all the good things to come.
“And congratulations,” he adds. “The buzz is fantastic.”
“Thanks,” she says, her grin wide and unabashed. “It’s been wild so far. Sooo good.”
There’s a moment of silence as Sawyer digests this version of Gia. A current of sensuality that’s unmistakable. Her incendiary personality sanded down into this human-shaped container of demure sweetness.
He knows you have to be important to have enemies.
She’d checked that box, and staying in it was what Sawyer expected.
Before he can say anything, the waiter with hair as orderly as the row of chairs spanning the room marches over to drop my breakfast and asks Sawyer what he’d like.
“You already ordered?” Sawyer frowns. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d say he sounded hurt.
Gia checks her chiming phone. “Time to hit the spa for my massage. FYI, they gave us a late check-out.” She bumps my shoulder. Winks. “I texted the boys for a dinner hook-up.”
“Cool,” I say. “Meet you upstairs when you’re done. Have fun.”
She moves forward as if she’s about to kiss me, then hesitates, gets up and wraps her arms around a startled Sawyer instead. “Thanks for coming. Appreciate it. Tonight will be a ripper.”