Chapter 1 #9
I swallow, lick my lips, look up at him. He’s flushed. But his grip in my hair doesn't loosen. Instead, he tugs me forward.
"You like that?" he rasps. "Watching me bite my tongue so I don't moan your name out loud?"
I nod, breathless. "So fucking much."
He tugs again, rougher. "You're sick."
I smile. "I know."
"Your head game is dangerous. I should report you."
My skin shivers. Then he kisses me. I can barely stand. My knees are numb. But we move, grinning, hands on each other until I’m leaning against the wall and he’s fixing his pants.
I reach up and start buttoning his shirt for him. He watches me with a lazy smirk. "You good?" he asks. I smirk right back. "I just got throat-fucked into another dimension. So yeah. I'm good."
He snorts, but there’s affection in it. He grabs a tissue, wipes the corner of my mouth gently. "Can’t let them see you like this," he mutters.
"Like what?"
"Like you just blew me so good I almost blacked out."
I laugh. I straighten my collar, brush invisible wrinkles off my shoulders, fingers lingering on my chest for just a second too long.
"Your glasses are fogged up," he laughs.
"Guess I was working hard." I finish the last button on his shirt. Let my fingers skim down his abs through the fabric. "You trying to start again?"
"Just admiring the view."
We both laugh quietly. I check the mirror. Run a hand through my hair. He stands behind me, watching me through the reflection. My throat still aches. His lips are a little too red.
"You ready?" he asks, already reaching for the door. I exhale. Grab the actual papers. "Yeah."
He glances at me one last time, slow drag of his eyes over my body. Then he opens the door. And we’re back in character.
Buttoned-up. Straight-faced. Like nothing happened.
…
My phone buzzes under the table. I glance around, everyone's focused on the numbers on the screen. I slide the phone into my lap and check the notification.
LORENZO:
-So?
-You gonna tell Daisy I'm reliable?
-Or should I just let her know I held your boyfriend's cum-stained documents while you got throatfucked behind a door?
I freeze. I can feel the color drain from my face, then rush right back in, burning hot across my cheeks.
Oh my fucking God. I type back quickly.
ME:
-Can you be normal for ONE minute?
LORENZO:
-You're welcome, btw.
-You should totally endorse me for "oral support logistics" on LinkedIn.
I press the bridge of my nose. I want to disappear. Literally melt into the floor and vanish. The guy across from me is talking about contract clauses and all I can hear is Lorenzo in my brain going "cum-stained documents."
Another buzz.
LORENZO:
-Soooo was it good?
-Like "moaning into the paperwork" good?
-Or "soul leaving your body through your dick" good?
Jesus fucking Christ.
ME:
-Lorenzo. Shut the fuck up.
-Please.
LORENZO:
-Was it on-your-knees-shaking good
-Or eyes-rolling-can't-walk-after good
-I need DATA
I bite the inside of my cheek. I can't look up. And here I am, getting grilled via iMessage by his damn cousin.
ME:
-I hate you.
LORENZO:
-No you don't.
-You just need electrolytes.
Gio shifts slightly in his seat. Leans closer.
"Everything good?" he murmurs under his breath. I don't look at him. "Your cousin's being disgusting."
"What'd he say?"
I pause. My mouth twitches.
"He wants credit for 'oral diplomacy.'" Gio exhales a laugh through his nose. "Reasonable."
I shake my head and lock my phone.
What the fuck is going on in my life.
7) Come to Italy
Rava - august 2nd
This past week was fucking insane.
We were careful. So careful.
Ducking into bathrooms, sneaking down hallways, texting in code like criminals. Every second we were together felt like we were walking a tightrope.
I still can't believe we didn't get caught. There were at least five moments I thought this is it.
Someone's gonna open the wrong door, glance over at the wrong time, or hear something they shouldn't. But somehow, we kept it together. Somehow, we got away with it.
At the meetings, it's our eyes that fight.
But in the dark…it's our tongues that do the battling.
And in between all that hiding? Yeah.
We devoured each other.
There's no other word. We fucked like we were starving. In the garage, in the shower, once behind his locked room door while his mom was downstairs.
She didn't even know I was in the house. I don't even know what day it is anymore. We've literally done it in every room that has a surface.
On tables, against walls. I think at one point I bent over the bathroom sink after showering, and he just went for it.
It's been nonstop. Like we've both been possessed.
Morning? Sex.
Midday? Yeah, sex.
Didn't matter where. Storage room. Hallway. If there was one hour and something to lean on, it was happening.
At night? Forget it. That's when it got feral. We tried every position. Every. Position. I didn't even know some of them were physically possible.
We went rough. We went slow. We edged each other so bad one night we both ended up panting on the floor, sweating and laughing, our whole bodies shaking.
There was choking, biting, spitting, crying.
Like, actual crying from overstimulation.
I don't think we ate real food. I think we survived off each other. I think I literally lived off his mouth and hands for seven days straight.
Every time I looked at him, I got hard.
Every time he touched me, I got desperate.
Every time he praised me, I came.
We almost didn't leave the house. The only reason we did was to fuck in other places. I'm talking "how are we still alive" kind of sex.
Now it makes sense.
Why Gio is so cocky and so full of himself. Because the way he fucks…holy shit.
He's fucking me so good I start thanking him, as if he's doing me a favor. He knows how to praise me and punish me in the same fucking breath.
Now I catch myself waiting for it. I used to be serious.
I had freaking dignity.
Now I'm the guy who begs. I literally beg him to touch me. I ask for his hands, his mouth, his dick, whatever he's willing to give.
Because yeah, Gio's good at sex. But…let's not get it twisted. I've had him on his knees too. I've made him shake and whimper. So, yeah. Maybe I'm down bad. But so is he.
We're basically soldiers at this point. Two insane, addicted soldiers, fully trained in the art of each other. He says "get over here," and I move. I say "don't stop," and he doesn't.
He drops to his knees, I spread my legs.
I drop to mine, he loses his fucking mind.
I've never done anything like it. Never felt anything like it. But then I'd lie in bed afterward, and feel something blooming in my chest that I shouldn't be feeling.
Because this wasn't part of the deal. We had rules. We made rules. If one of us caught feelings, we'd stop.
No drama. No heartbreak. No mess. I promised I wouldn't catch feelings. That we'd just fuck and that's it. Nothing serious. Nothing with a capital N.
But I keep catching myself doing things that scare the shit out of me. Yesterday we were walking down the street and my hand almost went to his on its own.
It was like his hand had a magnet and mine was stupid metal. I swear. Then at night, I caught myself hovering over my phone, ready to type: Hellooo Gio, can I come to your bed so we can just cuddle while I tell you about my family problems and how terrified I am of whatever this is?
And the worst thing now.
I almost told him I love him.
In the middle of sex…
I tried to gaslight myself afterward. Told myself it was just the heat of the moment, the adrenaline, it didn’t count. But I know me. I know my fucked up little heart. It wasn't just that. And now I'm…desperate, honestly.
Because I can't afford to be in love with him. I tried to ignore it. I swear I did. Every time I felt it creep in, I'd shove it back down. Because if I let myself say it out loud, then it becomes real. And if it's real, then I've already broken the agreement.
What if I tell him and he pulls away? What if it scares him?
He's not like me. He probably doesn't do love.
Especially with someone who has to be back in Canada by September 15th.
If I go too far, if I say the wrong thing, if I show too much…
he'll leave. And I can't have that. I'd rather pretend I don't feel anything than lose what little I have of him.
So I keep pretending it's just lust. That I don't care. That I can handle this.
That all these feelings building inside me will eventually go away if I just don't look at them too closely. But they won't.
And deep down, I know it.
I have to tell Noah about this. I completely forgot, oh my God. He is going to be so surprised. I close the door quietly, then double-check the lock. Everyone else is asleep, or pretending to be. I don't want to risk it.
I sit down by the window, pull my knees up, and stare out into the dark garden as I tap on Noah's contact. My finger hovers for a second before I hit "Call." He picks up immediately.
"Yoooo! You alive or did the mafia eat you?? What's up, Rome-o?"
I laugh. Fuck.
"Hey. Sorry I didn't call sooner."
"You're damn right you didn't. I've been dying over here. I thought I sent you off to flirt with him, not disappear into the witness protection program."
I exhale slowly, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Well yeah about that…you know that whole fake kiss idea you had?"
"…Yeah?"
"It didn't stay fake."
"…WHAT."
"Yeah." I smile, embarrassed. "We…kind of kept going. And then we didn't stop."
He goes silent again. Then comes the gasp. "Rava. RAVA. No way. No actual way. You—? With him? What the hell, are you serious? Like…doing stuff-stuff?"
"Yes. Everything." I bite my lip trying not to smile too hard. "Everything."
"EVERYTHING?! RAVA WHAT THE HELL, DUDE."
He's practically shouting. "I told you to fake kiss him to piss her off, not start an affair of the century!"
"It's not like I planned it—"
"Wait wait wait. First of all, is he hotter in person?"
"Oh, man…"
"Be honest, or I hang up right now."