Page 52 of Sweet Retribution

“Why are you here, Gia?” his question comes out in a soft whisper.

“It’s not because of the mediocre sex,” I respond with humor.

His fingers stop at my ear as he hears my response. I watch as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens his them again, they’re filled with something new. Laughter, maybe.

“If not for the mediocre sex, then why?”

“I mean, you did kind of drug me and lock me away in a gorgeous room with a stunning view, so I really didn’t have much choice.” I scoot closer to him and hook my ankle around his calf.

His shoulders stiffen, and a frown sets on his mouth.

Joking about kidnapping is a bad move. I reminded him last night what he did to me and what Antonio did could not be compared. I thought I’d made headway, but maybe not.

“But the sheets. I really, really like the sheets. I’m pretty sure that’s why I’m here.”

That brings a small smile again.

“Oh, and that smile.” I copy his movements and trace his lips with my fingers. He opens his mouth and playfully bites my fingertip. “I really, really,reallylike it when you smile.”

“You don’t really, really,reallylike it when I touch you?”

I like that he can be playful with me. He hides this side from the rest of the world, and before last night, from me as well.

“I mean, it goes along with the mediocre sex. So...” I shrug in nonchalance.

“You’re a brat.” He swoops in over me and takes my wrists, pinning them above my head.

Not a breath of air separates our bodies, and only a few inches separates our mouths. “You, Gia Smith Parlatore, are going to be the death of me.”

His gaze drops to my mouth before he does the unthinkable. He grazes his lips against mine. It’s soft and tender, completely incongruous to Stone. There’s nothing soft and tender about him.

I want to kiss him back, to open my mouth for him, but I let him take the lead. We’re both inexperienced when it comes to this kind of intimacy. He doesn’t look me in the eye, his focus is on my mouth.

I can read the uncertainty in him though. There’s a flash of guilt. He’s afraid. Afraid to kiss me. Afraid of what it could mean for him. For me. For us. I don’t push him. I want to hold him in my arms and tell him it will be okay.

He dips again, covering my mouth with his. He doesn’t open his mouth, doesn’t take the kiss deeper, doesn’t move a muscle in his body. I try to remain still and let him process all the emotions going through his mind right now, but my body has a mind of its own.

I let out a soft moan, and I feel him stiffen above me. He loosens his hold on my wrists and brings his hands down and cups my face. I open my mouth slightly, and he does the same. He sips at my lips gently, exploring them, tasting them, treating my mouth like an exquisite delicacy.

I’m more turned on right now than I’ve ever been, and Stone has turned me on in a million and one ways before. My hands now free, I bring them to the side of his head and run my fingers through his hair.

He lifts his head still keeping his focus locked on my mouth. I lick my lips and he curses, then plunges his tongue into my mouth, kissing me with the passion I’d expect from Stone Parlatore. I open wide for him and let him take control, let him explore, and lick, and bite until my entire body buzzes for attention.

“Stone,” I moan, locking my ankles around his waist and guiding his erection into my center. I’m so wet for him, he glides easily in. We stay locked in each others’ embrace, mouth to mouth, center to center and make love slowly until we bring each other to orgasm. It’s a long, passionate, gentle orgasm that doesn’t want to stop.

We both don’t want to stop because when we do, we don’t know if it will ever be the same.

***

Iwake to a cold, emptybed. My body hums with energy even though it’s sore from head to toe. I can still feel Stone’s kisses on my body, but mostly I can taste him. Things changed between us last night.

Not only because he let me into his room, not only because he kissed me, but because he let me into his heart. He may not realize it now, but he did. I got to him, like he got to me. I’m not afraid to admit it.

I can understand why a man like Stone would be afraid to admit his feelings. He still has a lot of anger and revenge built inside of him. Once Antonio is out of our lives, we can further explore if there’s anything genuine between us. In the meantime, I’m going to accept that it’s purely carnal.

I take my time getting out of his bed and check out my surroundings. Last night, it had been too dark, and I’d been too distracted by all things Stone to notice much in his room. It’s twice the size of mine.

The floors are a dark, cool slate, and the walls a creamy white. The almost black furniture is sleek and simple, with the giant bed as the centerpiece. Dark wood end tables on either side hold wrought iron lamps. Two brown leather chairs and a round coffee table sit in front of closed curtains.

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