Page 76 of The Wrong Move

“What do you mean?”

“The ladies at the next table can’t take their eyes off you, and it’s not about your status as an elite athlete. You’re a sexy man. You’d probably be treated like a god. I’m glad you’re wearing a shirt.”

A smirk grows on his lips. “Thank fuck I can’t read their thoughts.”

“If you knew what I’m thinking right now…”

Byron stands and takes my hand. “It’s time for us to go. I want to knowexactlywhat you’re thinking.”

19

BYRON

So many cats.

Some sit beside doors and others on chairs, watching us with beady eyes. A gray one rubs against Giana’s leg.

She leans down to rub its head. “Hey, Gray, you’re still here.”

I don’t ask. She hums a tune as we take the steps to the back entrance. The heat hasn’t affected her mood. Meanwhile, my shirt is stuck to my back in the ninety-degree heat with humidity that feels different from home. I wasn’t planning on sleeping, but fuck me.

She opens the door and hesitates. “Thank you for coming and sharing this night with me. It means a lot.”

“I wish I got to do it sooner.” I lean in to kiss her, twirling with her in my arms as the weathered wooden door closes behind us, blocking out the light from the full moon.

Hot, moist air on musky, ancient limestone walls fills my senses. Kissing a trail along her neck, I inhale her perfume and scent until only Giana is imprinted on my brain.

“You’re hot,” she whispers in the dark.

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

She giggles. “This heat is a lot. I think we could both do with a shower.”

“If it means getting wet with you, then count me in.”

She takes my hand and leads me through the dark as though she has done this a million times. I walk with a hand raised in case something smacks me in the face.

“Your cell, Byron.” I pull out my phone and turn on its flashlight.

We enter a bathroom that’s all terracotta and white tiles. She places two towels on a ledge.

“Can you help me with the zipper?”

I undo her dress and kiss her shoulders as the fabric pools at her ankles. Her skin is hot beneath my lips. I continue to caress her neck, her cheeks, back to her lips. “Get naked with me, Byron.”

Through the small bathroom window, light reflects from the street. I pull my shirt over my shoulders, watching her face as I do. Animal instinct takes over as she helps divest me of the rest of my clothes, ungraceful and desperate. We turn under the water spray, and I imagine the sizzle of steam as it hits my heated skin. My attempts to be tender are lost in my desire, a yearning to have wanted this moment for what seems like a lifetime. Dark shadows fall over her face and tanned body, accentuating her curves and breasts. The whites of her eyes fail to hide the longing, and a deep ache settles in the pit of my stomach. I crave Giana like nothing else.

“I need younow,” she whispers. She jumps into my arms, and her legs wrap around my waist. As I push her up against the cool tiles, she lifts her rear enough for me to slide inside her. Slowly, I rock into her, wanting to draw out the moment and be with her gently. Her hands run through my hair, over my face,and claw at my back. Every moan goads me to go faster until I’m thrusting desperately, ignoring my tight chest and racing heart. Our harsh pants sound out in the small room. She reaches out and hits the tap, and we lose water.

“Sorry,” she moans. “We have a shortage.”

What?

With water or without, I’m at the point of no return. Giana fists my hair, using it as leverage to ride me harder. I pound into her, desperate for release, and then it comes. I shudder, and she moans.

“Byron,” she says breathily. She doesn’t say anything else, and I’m perfectly happy hearing my name on her lips, knowing I’m the one who gave her the climax.

We slip down the tiles to the floor and lie there for a moment, our wet bodies sliding together as our legs untangle.

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