Chapter 14 Jane
JANE
Gio’s husky promise unleashes butterflies in my stomach.
The way his eyes seem to burn into my very soul lights my body on fire.
But God, when he kisses me, it feels as though the world explodes.
Admitting to my condition always makes me feel vulnerable.
It’s hard not having a past—no basic foundation of memories to relate to people with or share to convey who I am or why I am the way I am.
The few guys I’ve gone on dates with over the years seemed taken aback— even put off—by the complications amnesia could add to a relationship.
But not Gio.
He doesn’t seem intimidated at all, and when he kisses me, I’m rocked to my core to realize it’s even better than my subconscious could make up.
His lips are as soft and inviting as they look, but the strength behind them steals my breath away as he claims my lips like he owns them.
The hand cupping the side of my face slides slowly back to cradle my head, keeping us locked together, and when the tip of his tongue dances across the cushion of my lower lip, I part for him instinctively.
Our bodies press closer, our thighs meeting as I shift closer and Gio’s hand grips my hip to pull me closer.
The heat in my veins is molten, searing the common sense from my body as his tongue dips between my lips to taste me.
His moan sends a zing of electricity up my spine, my core tightening at the sinfully sensual sound.
And before I know what’s happening—if he moved me or if I climbed on top of him—I’m straddling his impressively muscular thighs.
My dress slides up, gathering around my hips as I settle on top of him.
And suddenly, I feel like a teenager again—or at least what I picture young, inexperienced attraction must be like.
Adrenaline pounds through my veins, my skin growing sensitive to the touch as Gio’s arms wrap around me, holding me close, molding me to the shape of his shockingly chiseled body.
I mean, I could tell he was fit beneath his stylish suits, but God, he feels rock solid and made of stone as my breasts press against his pecs, my hands roaming over his broad shoulders and thick neck.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” Gio breathes, his fingers pressing into my skin with a delicious intensity.
My lips curve against his as my heart flutters, and I kiss him more deeply, my tongue tangling with his as I reward him for the confession.
In truth, I’ve been thinking about kissing him from the moment I met him—dreaming about it.
And it feels so good, so right, so natural that it leaves me breathless.
Gio’s hands slowly roam down my body, lighting a blazing trail of anticipation in their path.
It almost feels like he’s trying to memorize me, each kneading touch tender yet desperate.
No man has touched me like this for as long as I can remember, and I hadn’t realized just how much I craved it until now.
When his palms find my knees beside him, and he slowly slides them up my thighs, creeping closer to the hem of my dress, a deep, insatiable ache builds in the depths of my stomach.
Pulsing arousal drives me to respond instinctively as his fingers slide beneath the fabric, splaying there as he grips me—as if trying to rein himself back in.
But I don’t want him to stop.
My hips roll, seeking something more, and Gio’s grip tightens, stopping the movement—before pulling me more savagely against him.
The hot, thick ridge of his excitement through his slacks, and I gasp as the pressure against the peak of my thighs lights my nerve endings on fire.
I can feel the shiver that ripples down his muscular back, and my core tightens at the thought that it might be because of me—because he feels this inexplicable, undeniable pull like I do.
The way he kisses me would indicate he does.
His lips refuse to part from mine, even when my lungs are burning with the need for oxygen and explosions of white dots burst behind my eyelids.
And still, it feels like he’s taking his time, savoring every last touch.
I couldn’t say how long we stay like that, tangled in each other’s arms, lips locked and tongues trapped in a sensual and intimate dance.
Time might be racing on—or could even have stopped—and I wouldn’t know.
I’m too captivated by his touch, consumed by the desire to never stop.
This is what I imagine the proverbial high school make-out session must be like—only I should be well beyond that period of my life.
But I can’t help myself.
It doesn’t matter that I only just met Gio—or that this is technically our first date.
I want more of him, and this throbbing ache between my thighs is going to drive me crazy unless I satiate it.
Then a creak near the stairs makes my heart stop.
Wrenching my lips from Gio’s, I sit straight, my head snapping in the direction of the noise as my pulse launches into a sprint.
I would be mortified if Jackson found me in this state, my dress riding up until Gio could practically see my panties, our bodies so thoroughly intertwined that I would have no reasonable explanation for what we’re doing.
Thankfully, Jackson’s not standing at the top of the stairs.
It must have been the house shifting because I don’t see a glimpse of my little boy.
But it makes me intensely aware of just how exposed Gio and I are.
“Should we stop?” Gio murmurs, his husky voice low, sending a shiver up my spine.
My heart sinks at the suggestion, and when I turn to meet his striking light hazel eyes, I can see the same disappointment reflected there—but no frustration, no resentment if I say yes.
“Maybe we could take this somewhere a bit more private?” I suggest, my pulse fluttering at the thought.
I don’t really know if I’m ready to do more than make out just yet, but I do know I don’t want to stop.
And I trust Gio to respect whatever line I draw.
I can only hope my instincts are correct.
“Lead the way,” he breathes, his lips brushing lightly across mine once more.
Then strong hands are bracing my hips, helping me up off his lap.
Standing, I take a deep, steadying breath, smoothing my dress back down before I find Gio’s hand.
Relishing the tingling sensation that ripples up my arm, I give a gentle tug as he rises.
As he stands to his full height, I’m not sure I’ve ever stood this close to him before, and my breath catches as my eyes follow him all the way up.
He’s not just fit.
He’s tall—six foot three, at least—and all powerful muscle that turns my mouth dry as he towers over me.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he could be formidable, but when he smiles at me, it disarms me completely.
Tongue darting out to wet my suddenly dry lips, I turn to guide him through the entry and up the stairs.
Gio follows silently, his fingers twining around mine.
And as we reach the upstairs hallway, his steps are surprisingly soft, even sneaky, for a man his size.
Jackson’s door is still shut tight as we tiptoe past, and he hasn’t made a sound by the time I reach my bedroom, confirming he’s asleep. Slowly, I push the door open.
My pulse quickens as I step inside, realizing I haven’t tidied up for a guest in this part of the house.
But Gio doesn’t seem to mind.
Closing the door behind us, he turns me, pulling me back into his arms.
My hands snake up his muscular chest, my fingers wrapping around the back of his neck as he steers me until my shoulder blades meet the solid wood of my door.
Breath rushes from my lungs as my temperature spikes, and I stare up into Gio’s ravenous gaze.
The soft click of a lock sounds beside me before I lose myself in his kiss once more.
I don’t know what’s come over me, but as he traps me against the solid surface, his body pressing into mine, I know that kissing isn’t going to be enough.
I want more.
I want all of him.
And I want him now.
“Please, Gio,” I breathe against his lips.
“Please what?” he rasps between kisses, his mouth leaving mine to trail sinfully along my jawline and down my throat.
“Take me to the bed.” My core throbs, my panties clinging to me wetly, and I arch into him as he stills.
But only for a moment before his hands are stroking purposefully down my curves.
Then sliding over my ass, between my thighs, and he hoists me effortlessly, sweeping my feet off the ground as he wraps my legs around his waist.
The move feels shockingly familiar—until I realize it’s exactly like I dreamed the other night.
Anticipation slams through my veins.
If he’s anything like the man in my dreams, I’m confident that I want this. I want him.
Who cares if we’re moving fast?
I’ve been celibate for eight long years, and if this is the only time I get a taste of what it feels like to be with a man, I’m not about to pass it up.
Gio’s arms are strong and sure as they carry me across the room.
Then he’s tilting me back onto the mattress, his movements tender and careful—like he thinks he might break me.
My clit throbs as his weight settles on top of me, his forearms framing my shoulders to avoid crushing me as he leans in to seal our lips once more.
Fingers tangling in his thick, dark locks, I arch into him, savoring the groan that rumbles from his chest as I grind against his swollen erection.
“God, you’re perfect,” he rasps, his tongue delving into my mouth as he trails one hand from my throat, down the curve of my breast to palm it. “So damn sexy.”
The need in his voice intensifies my own exponentially, and I whimper as the pulsing ache between my thighs intensifies. “I want you,” I whisper, my heart skipping a beat as soon as the words leave my lips.
“I want you so bad,” he growls, his hips pressing forward to show me just how badly he wants me.
My breaths quicken, my pulse roaring in my ears as the words slip past my lips before I know I’m going to say them out loud. “Fuck me,” I moan, the plea almost whiny I’m filled with such agonizing need.
Gio tenses, his hand pausing, though he doesn’t take it from my breast as he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Do you mean that?” he rasps huskily.
Biting my lip as a wave of shyness sweeps over me, I nod.
I’ve never been so forward with a man, but I feel safe with Gio.
Maybe it’s because I can’t stop dreaming about him.
Or maybe there’s just something about him that feels right.
But I’ve never felt like this about someone before.
And I don’t want to hold back just because I’m frightened that if I put myself out there, it will only end in my heart being broken.
“Christ,” Gio breathes, his lips crushing down on mine with renewed vigor, and his wandering hands find new purpose as he reaches beneath me for the zipper of my dress.
I lift off the bed, trying to make it easier for him, and he rolls, sitting up so I’m straddling him once more. Our kiss never breaks as he drags the zipper of my dress slowly down my back, and I shiver as cool air washes across my skin.
Then his fingers curl around the hem of my dress, and in one fluid move, he strips it off me like he’s done it a hundred times before.
The sudden exposure makes my nipples pucker against the fabric of my T-shirt bra, and I’m suddenly intensely aware of how entirely mediocre my undergarments are because I was not anticipating anything like this happening tonight when I got dressed this morning.
Gio pauses, his eyes sweeping down my body with a look that should make me feel self-conscious, but instead lights my soul on fire.
Then he wraps one arm around my waist, lifting me slightly and curling a finger around the top of one bra cup so he can bring my nipple into his mouth.
My core clenches, my breaths coming faster as a jolt of pleasure lances through me at the scintillating warmth of his lips wrapped around my pebbled flesh, his tongue swirling around it.
He reaches around me, and I feel my bra go slack as he unhooks it with one hand.
Then we’re shifting again as he turns to lay me on my back once more.
My breasts heave with each ragged breath as he strips me of my bra, his lips never pausing as he lavishes my skin with attention—first one nipple, then the other, before he draws a slow path down the center of my body to my navel.
Squirming with anticipation, I writhe beneath his touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of his soft lips and rough stubble.
It’s the perfect combination of pleasure and pain, and I can feel my anticipation starting to build, climbing to that ledge I might topple off of.
Gio’s fingers curl around the waistband of my panties, his eyes flicking up to my face—as if checking to see if I’m going to stop him—before he starts to drag them down my hips and thighs.
Air hisses through his teeth as I lay bare before him, my legs spread so he can see all of me in intimate detail.
“You’re so beautiful,” he groans, running his fingers between my breasts and down the length of my body.
I gasp as he brushes lightly across my clit, and his eyes darken with excitement.
“Your turn,” I say, sitting up as I reach for the buttons of his dress shirt.
He doesn’t argue as his hands go to his belt, working with me to remove his clothes. Then he hesitates.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my hands pausing as a look of stress flits across his face.
“I… didn’t expect…” He swallows hard, his gaze agonized as it meets mine. “I don’t have a condom with me.”
In truth, I hadn’t even thought that far ahead.
In my dreams, I usually wake before it gets that far, and warmth floods my cheeks as I realize how reckless I must seem.
But the thought of stopping now just might kill me. “Can you… pull out?” I suggest.
The look Gio gives me is molten, and my core clenches when, instead of answering, he cradles the back of my head and brings our lips together with burning intensity.
I’ll take that as a yes.
Thighs slick with anticipation, I return to unbuttoning his shirt, sharing the same oxygen with him as we breathe together, our lips never separating for more than a moment.
Giddy exhilaration comes to life in my stomach when I hear the heavy thud of his belt and pants hitting the floor.
Then he’s leaning into me, pressing me back onto the bed as his hips settle between my thighs.
I’ve never been this reckless about sex. In fact, it’s been so long since I’ve had it, I don’t even know when the last time was.
But with Gio, I just can’t seem to help myself.
My attraction to him eclipses my common sense, and all I know is that I want this with a burning passion.
My heart flutters nervously as I feel the silky steel of his swollen tip sliding between my folds, and clench deliciously as he releases a carnal groan.
“God, you’re so wet for me,” he growls, aligning himself with my throbbing entrance.
Then he presses inside me, each slow, glorious inch stretching me, filling me until stars explode behind my eyes.