Page 81 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Then.

His hand slips from my shoulder to my collarbone, his thumb brushing lightly against the sensitive skin there. Unhurriedly—almost reverently—Gio’s fingers sweep upward, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

The motion is intimate, as if he’s memorizing the curve of my neck.

My pulse spikes, and I lean closer, drawn to him like a magnet. Every nerve in my body is tuned to the moment, the space between us shrinking with every passing second….

“Gio,” I whisper, unsure if it’s a warning or an invitation.

“Yeah?” His voice is low. Rough.

Hesitant.

So polite…

“I…” Whatever I was about to say vanishes as his lips meet mine.

The kiss is slow at first, teasing, as though he’s testing the waters.

My fingers curl against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath my palm. It’s grounding in a way, even as everything else—my thoughts, my breath, my sense of time—spirals completely out of control.

I want him so bad.

So sexy.

So masculine.

Gio’s hands find my waist, steadying me, pulling me closer, and it’s not enough. The angle feels all wrong, the space between us still too much despite the heat radiating off him.

Without a second thought, I shift. Moving onto my knees, I slide one leg over his lap, settling myself astride him. My dress rides higher with the motion, the fabric easing its way to my hips as I settle against him.

His hands instinctively move to my waist, gripping firmly, holding me there as his head tilts back to meet my gaze.

His eyes are dark, intense, the flicker of hesitation from earlier?

Gone.

Gio’s palm smacks my ass.

My fingers slide up, curling around the back of his neck as I lower myself against him, bringing our mouths back together.

This kiss is different.

It’s heated,desperate,our mouths colliding like we’re both racing to make up for lost time. His hands tighten on my hips, guiding me as I shift slightly, my thighs pressing against his, my body aligning with his in a way that makes me dizzy.

I shift against him again, and his grip tightens, a groan escaping his lips that makes my stomach flip.

“Keep doing that,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, the words almost lost against my skin. “Don’t fucking stop.”

I obey, moving against him with more urgency. Every brush, every shift of our bodies stokes the fire that’s burning betweenus, making it harder to focus on anything but the way he feels beneath me.

His hands slide up inside the fabric of my dress…

Palms skimming my bare skin.

Flirts with the clasp of my strapless bra.

Every movement, every slight shift in pressure, ignites a fire that has me leaning into him, desperate for more.

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