Page 80 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

I’m past the point of pretending—or caring about my own make-believe dating rules so I can fake being a ‘Good Girl.’ I want more of what we had at the arena; more tension. More flirting. More touching.

I’m addicted to how much fun Gio is.

Le sigh…

The hallway opens into another room—this one darker, with floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side. A massive sectionalcouch dominates the center, piled high with plush throw pillows and blankets. They look so soft and beg to be touched.

“Okay, wow. This is spectacular,” I admit, my eyes scanning the room. “Is this your office?”

He walks to a sleek console table against the wall and picks up a small remote, pressing a button. Instantly, the far wall begins to move, a hidden panel sliding open to reveal a massive screen.

“Technically, yes. But no work gets done in here.” He tosses the remote to the couch. “I thought we could watch a movie.”

“You have a home theater.” I blink in disbelief. “Of course, you do.”

“Only for my favorite guests,” he teases, plopping down on the couch and patting the spot next to him.

Hesitating for a moment, I take in the cozy setup, imagining him here alone; the blankets draped across the back of the massive sectional, the soft lighting casting a warm glow, and the way the city skyline sparkles in the background through the windows.

It’s a space to be enjoyed with a partner.

“Come here,” he coaxes. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

I have no issues if he did.

Kicking off my heels, I join him on the couch, sinking into the plush cushions. He’s already reclined, one arm stretched across the back of the sectional like he owns the world—well, this world, at least.

In his free hand, he’s swirling a glass of wine, too, the deep red catching the soft light.

I tuck my feet under me and take a sip from my own glass, savoring the taste. It’s smooth, rich, and probably something I’d never buy for myself.

Figures.

“What are we watching?” I ask, setting my glass down on the side table.

“Whatever your little heart desires.”

After a bit of scrolling through the apps, we settle on an action movie; I’m only half paying attention, though.Like who cares about a movie when I’m warm and a little fuzzy and Gio’s arm slid from the back of the couch and is now resting on my shoulder?

Not me.

I melt as his fingers graze my skin, back and forth, in a slow caress.

“Comfy?” he murmurs, glancing down at me.

“Socomfy,” I breathe, unable to find my voice.

My body is hot.

“You’re not watching the movie,” he teases.

“Neither are you,” I shoot back, glass of wine all but forgotten on the side table, the room feeling impossibly hot.

Whew, baby it’s warm in here!

“Touché.”

For a moment, we say nothing at all, quietly acknowledging one another.

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