Page 75 of The Sexy Billionaire

“I think you’re the prettiest girl here.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“You’re just trying to be kind, Gio, I appreciate it. But don’t you have to get back to Chiara? She’s been eyeballing you all night.”

“And yet here I am with you.”

“Because you’re a good friend.”

“Should a friend think about what it would be like to kiss another friend?” I confess to her.

“Gio.”

It’s a smell I can still remember now. It lingers in the air in my memory as if I can smell it here and now. My legs were shaking with nervousness, and I could feel my dick twitching to life, wanting to harden thanks to my uncontrollable hormones at the time, and I remember trying to tell myself to calm the hell down, to not embarrass myself with a hard-on as I kissed the girl. After what felt like an eternity, our lips met, and a gasp fell from hers at the connection, and I shoved my tongue in there thinking that is what you were supposed to do. Then our teeth gnashed together, saliva swapped, and tongues dueled; it was not the greatest of first kisses, but I remember as the summer continued, we got better at it.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I shake my head, forcing the memory back. “Just remembered something.”

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing.” It’s the last thing I want to tell her, especially after the moment we just had.

“Come on, tell me,” she pushes, stepping out of my embrace.No, that’s not what I wanted. I like having her in my arms.

Do I tell her?

“Was it bad?”

“No, just an old memory,” I tell her.

“Which one?” she questions.

“Your perfume, it reminded me of our first kiss.”

“Oh,” she answers, surprised.

“See, that’s why I didn’t want to say anything, now it’s awkward,” I tell her.

“Well, especially after I nearly ran out the door because we were talking about stuff from the past.” She chuckles.

“There’s that,” I agree.

“Wasn’t the greatest first kiss, was it?” She grins.

“Hey, you were as bad as I was,” I tease.

This makes her giggle, and the sound is one of the best sounds in the world.

“True, but I remember we got better as the summer progressed,” she says.

“We did.”

We both stare at each other, remembering our old make-out sessions, and all I want to do is show her how much I’ve improved, but thankfully, I’m saved from my inner thoughts by the house phone. I walk over to it in the foyer and pick it up.

“Mr. Fiorenzo, we have a pizza down here for you,” the bellman tells me.

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