Giovanni settles the recently clasped thin necklace on my neck and lifts the locket to his eyeful gaze. I stare at him, reeling, lips still tingling from the forceful kiss he landed upon me just moments ago.

When I agreed to marry him.

There was no smile of reply, no questioning.

He just kissed me so hard it hurt.

I truly have no fucking clue what I'm doing.

Apprehensively, I look from the locket in his hand to his face. His eyes seem oil-slick black, the same color as his hair, which shines in perfect waves of curls, much longer than he usually allows it to get.

"Is there a preference on a ring?"

"No."

"None?"

I shake my head. It's too jumbled in there to think clearly, and yet, my head tilts. "I guess something unique, simple."

"Simple. That's not particularly my forte," he grins anyway, "but I'll think of something."

I smile as he smooths my hair back, covering the entire length in one fair swoop. "I need to cut it," I whisper, insecurity seeping in my voice. I don't know how I'm not crying, or panicking, or running.

"I like it long."

It's not what he's saying that raises our intimate levels to a thousand. It's the way he's leaning towards me, his eyes promising wanton pleasures that aren't suitable to speak of in public.

"You do?"

He smirks, twisting his fingers into the golden mess of waves. "I like having something to grab on to."

He pulls his fingers into a fist and I gasp, lifting onto my tiptoes, my hands instinctively going to his chest. He guides me back to his mouth, easing his tongue through my lips, which are open because I'm panting– loudly.

"Gi-Giovanni," I breathe against him.

"What?"

"I'm... I'm dizzy."

He pulls back, his fingers loosening. At the sight of his dilated pupils, I lay my head on his chest with a heavy sigh.

"You're making me dizzy."

It's been his intent this entire time, I'm sure of it. In fact, I'm sure that he came to this store, knowing he was going to twist me around his finger so much that he'd obliterate anything I said last night, showing me how powerful he can truly be.

For now, he removes his hand with a contented sigh.

"Come. Let's go."

...

"Hey, Gio, you've made the news."

Marco points the slim controller to the television. We're the headline, courtesy of someone that saw us in the jewelry shop. Speculations on what Giovanni and I were doing there are naturally creating heat. Turns out, rightly so.

Giovanni sits up straight, and his eyes meet mine. "Damn."

"Seems like you're going to have to go through them at the airport then." Maria grabs my hand, seated beside me on the bench. Giovanni has already risen to his feet.

"We're going to have to go sooner than we'd thought, Zia."

My eyes drift over to my bags, then to the scattered pieces of Giovanni's family lounging on the terrace, ending on the small stilted apartment Giovanni and I have spent most of our nights in. I stand, grabbing my purse.

Zia wraps a warm arm around my waist as we walk through the villa for the door. Marco and Luca pass us to start the car. I'm surprised Giovanni walks a step behind us, keeping his distance, giving me ample time to say goodbye.

We all stop by the doorway, silent.

She turns, grabbing a gift wrapped in parchment paper, stiff string tied into a perfect bow. She hands it to me. I stare down at the item, stunned. Why I'm not exactly sure.

"Open it later. It's nothing big, but I thought you'd like it."

"I didn't get you anything. I'm sorry."

"Darling, there was no need. Just tell me you'll be back here soon, and I'll be glad."

I glance up at Giovanni, who smiles like he's concealing the biggest secret in the world. And he is. "We'll be back soon, Zia."

She nods once and steps closer to me, wrapping her arms around my back. I feel her squeeze tight, her hand drifting up and down my back comfortingly, and embarrassingly, I try to keep myself together.

"What you think are your weaknesses, dear girl, are actually your strengths." She grabs onto my arms, pulling back enough to find my eyes. "Remember you have family here, with us. You have made our Giovanni very happy, and for that, I am grateful."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Maria," I speak through the lump in my throat, "I... I can't think of a time when I've been as happy as I have been here with all of you. I'm sorry for any hassle I may have caused."

"Tell this girl to stop apologizing so much, won't you?" she says to Giovanni, pointing at me. I blush when he rubs a hand over my back.

"I'm trying."

"Oh, I love you, sweet girl." She leans in again, kissing both my cheeks.

Giving them their privacy to say goodbye, I escape through the door with my gift, knowing one more second and I'll make even more of a fool of myself than I already have this week. When I hop into the convertible, hearing Luca and Marco arguing in the front over whether to put the top up or down, my gaze immediately turns to the doorway, where Gio is hugging his aunt.

She is holding his face between her hands, whispering to him closely. He nods, and I notice something in his hands as well.

"He's going to propose to you, you know."

I smile softly to myself, meeting Marco's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Oh? And how do you know?"

"Because he already asked his mother if he could come by and get his grandmother's ring."

"When was this?"

"Marco, shut up."

"When you got here."

Days ago?

He's been planning this. Maybe that is why Maria pressured me so hard on the subject, because he'd already told her his intention...

"Although he's been talking about it since last year. The guy has been cracked for you from the beginning. So, don't hurt him, alright? I didn't think he'd let anyone in after what Lola did to him."

"I'll do my best."

"You fuck up everything; you know that, right?" Luca snaps accusingly to his brother.

"What did I do?"

"What if that was supposed to be a surprise? You know, maybe it would have been sweeter for her to have heard it from him, first?"

"I'm well aware he wants to marry me, Luca. Don't worry."

"See? Jerk."

"Both of you, leave her alone," Giovanni says, handing me a rectangular gift. I take it so he can jump into the backseat.

"I'm sorry, Giovanni. Someone needs to tape this guy's mouth shut."

I'm not sure why we don't tell them that he's already asked me or that I've said yes. I'm strangely relieved when he doesn't answer Luca and grabs my hand.

...

"We'll see you guys soon, right?"

My eyes are already on the swarm of paparazzi huddled around the doorways to the airport.

"Yeah, cugino." Giovanni leans forward, squeezing their shoulders. "You both take care of yourselves."

"Yeah, yeah. You take care of her, come back soon. Alright?"

"Thank you for everything," I whisper, unable to feel emotional at the thought of leaving. I'm too nervous.

"Keep close to me," Giovanni demands as soon as we pull up to the curb. Within seconds, Giovanni's opening the door. Luca and Marco are jumping out to open the trunk.

"Are you getting married?"

"Was it a ring?"

"Giovanni! Did you propose? Did you ask your publicist to marry you? Is it because you knocked her up?"

Marco and Luca hand Giovanni our bags, and he rests both straps onto one shoulder, reaching for me. I stumble into his arms as we begin to shuffle towards the doors. The security has a hard time keeping them at bay. Randomly, some escape, leaning over the bars, microphone extended out toward us.

"Does Lola know?"

"What about Dixon Routh? He said there was hope for you just a few days ago? What are your comments on that, Scarlett?"

Hope?

"Where's the ring, Giovanni? Did you propose?"

I shut out their incessant drones with difficulty, looking down at my feet.

It's amazing how fast it happens. In just seconds, we're thrust back into reality, and our own sweet version of Italy already seems very far away.

...

"Want a drink?" Giovanni asks, taking off his seatbelt as soon as we're in the air. We're thousands of feet in the sky, and my heart still hasn't slowed. I shake my head, wringing my hands, massaging my stiff fingers.

"Did you hear what they said about Dixon?"

"The guy is soaking up his one week of fame, that's for sure."

My eyes scan over the waves of clouds we're traveling above with a melancholy sadness. New York seems like hell on earth, holding all the demons I have to confront when I get back.

"I think it's best we keep the engagement to ourselves for a bit. With the press so hot, it will be less of a hassle for us when the chaos of getting back together goes away."

"Do you think it's going to go away?"

He smirks, unscrewing the cap of a water bottle. "We're interesting, but not that interesting."

"Speak for yourself."

He laughs, taking a long gulp of water before he points to the gift beside me.

"Have you checked what she gave you yet?"

I reach down, having forgotten it was there. I nearly bring the gift to my nose, knowing it must smell of her home. But I resist, undoing the knot of the string. I unravel the paper and read the note:

The Martinelli family. That now includes you, sweetheart.

Framed in a gold antique frame is a picture of Giovanni and me on the night of the party. The night of my nightmare. We're stuck between the crowds of his family and friends, but whoever captured this found us in a moment of intimacy. Giovanni's holding a wine glass in one hand; his other is holding the back of my head. We're clearly talking, nose to nose, and Giovanni is smiling. His aunt is near us, clearly pointing our way, smiling too. I'm shocked by how happy everyone looked... even me. In the turmoil of that night, I still was happy to be near him.

"What is it?"

"Us." I hold it up to him. His expression mirrors mine.

"Who the hell took that?"

"Beats me." I bring it back to my gaze, wanting to study it. "We can put it next to our bed. Our first picture together."

He smiles slowly, staring at me.

"What?"

"Nothing... You said our bed. I like that."

"I still think all of this is bat-shit crazy."

"Without a doubt."

"And you're willing, really? We move in, and the press will go crazier."

"I want you with me, Scarlett. All the time."

I nod, pushing my hair back. I hate this constant push and pull I make myself go through, never able to just feel content with our decisions. There is always this voice in my head telling me that it will all fail. A voice telling me that he is riding on a high right now and that it's inevitable for the hype of this to fade.

I sit forward. "Just promise me something, okay? I will do this, but promise me that if you ever want out, you will tell me. You won't feel obligated to stay because of everything that happened with Norman... I don't want you to ever feel you have to stay with me because you don't want me to be alone."

"You're not the only one with that fear. What if one day you want to go? I think of that possibility all the time."

"That won't happen."

"Why can you say it, and I can't?"

"Because it's different."

"It really isn't. This is a commitment, one I have made abundantly clear to you. I had planned to make the moment more formal, maybe I should have, if only to demonstrate to you that I want everything for us. I just... needed to ask you then. I don't know why."

He sighs and takes a seat beside me. I smile softly when he grabs my hand, bringing it onto his lap.

"I'm going to California to get my grandmother's ring. I'd like you to come, meet my mother. I think the sooner you have a ring on you, the sooner you'll realize what I'm offering."

His mother, damn. More family.

"What you're offering?"

"The rest of my life, whatever that's worth."

Melting at his effortless attempt to shock me, I press my forehead into his arm, groaning in defeat. "When are you going to see her?"

"In a few days. I have to be getting back to my studio. I thought it would be nice for you to be there as well, maybe speak with Connor."

I nod, breathing in. Norman comes to mind, unwillingly.

"He said he'd back me if I wanted to start my own firm. But I don't know if now is the best time to start anything."

"Why not?"

"The publicity would be horrendous. I'd have to wait months to announce anything, and who knows if anyone would even want to take me on after everything that came out about me six months ago."

"You don't think your clients will follow you? I find that hard to believe."

"I may loathe Norman right now, but I... I can do that to him. Not that. His company is everything to him."

"Well, having Connor is a start."

"I know... I'll figure it out."

He squeezes my hand. "We'll figure it out."

...

The blaring sound of angry horns fills the air, forcing me to feel the chaotic awareness this city never fails to deliver on. My eyes scan over Norman's name in bold, illuminated letters.

I had thought coming back to retrieve my things and officially put in my resignation would have me up in arms. But truly, I feel nothing. I'm numb, only ready to get this over with.

My phone still rests dead in my bag, despite having been back in the city for the night. I haven't brought myself to turn it back on yet. I walk into the building, concealing my face with my hair, hoping no one will stop me.

I'm successful all the way to the elevators. When they close, and I'm the only passenger, I breathe a sigh of relief. I watch the numbers ascend with disinterest, wondering what the hell I'm going to tell Rebecca because I know sure as hell Norman hasn't told her I quit.

I exit onto the main floor, immediately subject to stares.

"Good morning, Ms. Bardot," a few of them say collectively.

"Good morning," I respond, not interested in stirring gossip. I need to clear out my office, and then I'm gone. I round the corner, and Rebecca stands from her desk, glaring.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, immediately walking into her. She hugs me back tightly.

"What the hell is going on? One day you're not showing up, not answering our calls? You're flying across the world with Giovanni Martinelli, the guy who broke your heart?"

"I have a lot to fill you in on."

Her hands rest against her hips. "Okay. So start."

I decide to start with the news I know she'll chew me out about the most.

"I quit... I'm only here to collect my things."

Her sweetly naïve face pales. "What?"

With one uncertain glance at the empty hallway, I urge her into my office and shut the door behind me.

"What do you mean you quit? Scarlett, are you insane? No! You need to go to Norman right now. He will take you back, I'm sure of it."

"Rebecca..."

"Scarlett, you are VP. Vice freaking President! Do you know how huge that is? I know it's been a fucked year, but–"

"Norman's my father, Rebecca." I exhale when the words are out and watch her features slacken in disbelief. "Norman is my biological father, who gave me up when I was born. He told me last week. It's the reason he's done all of this. It's the reason why he was so adamant about Giovanni... he blackmailed him to stay away from me."

She blinks for quite some time, processing my information before she bends, grabbing a cardboard box holding printing paper. She dumps the contents.

"You talk, I'll box."

...

I pull the folder holding my resignation out of my bag, stopping near the door. For so many months now, this place has felt like a prison. But it wasn't always that for me.

For years, this was my sanctuary, a place I could hide and be my true self in. I loved this office. I loved my job, the authority and prestige that came along with it. After a life of nearly nothing to call my own, this job changed everything for me.

I flick off the light for good and exit, holding my box of items. The frame of Dixon and I that I'd stuffed in my desk rests on top, making me physically nauseous. Rebecca holds out her hands.

"Let me have someone take this to your place. I don't want the paps to get a photo of you and claim you were fired."

"You never stop looking out for me, do you?"

She smiles, looking down at her heels, breathing in. "I can't believe we're not going to work together anymore. I mean, you brought me up to this job. I can't imagine it without you."

"I can't stay here anymore."

"No, I know. It's just going to suck, you being in California, so far away."

I lean against her desk, crossing my arms. "Well... are you looking for a change of scenery?"

"Why? Is there another option?"

I smile softly. "I'm actually contemplating opening my own firm in Los Angeles."

"About time." She gapes. "And you want me to be your assistant?"

I shake my head. "Not as my assistant. As my head agent."

I hold my hands out cautiously as she begins to sputter incoherently.

"What do you think?" I whisper.

"I think hell yes. Hell yes! When do we start?"

"I still have to project this. Go over the fine print, so keep it to yourself, alright? No one can know about this. Most of all, Norman."

"No, of course not. I've got you."

I lean forward and wrap my arm around her shoulder.

"I'll be in touch," I pull back, holding out the folder containing my resignation. "Will you make sure Norman gets this?"

She takes it. "I'll send it up to him right now."

"Thanks."

I leave her and walk down the hallway for the last time, remembering a thousand memories, the most important ones containing Giovanni. I don't say goodbye to anyone, wanting to just get out of here unscathed.

I should have known that wouldn't happen.

I stop in my tracks when Norman suddenly exits the elevator, glancing both ways, clearly searching for something until his eyes land on my own. Seeing his face, my body goes rigid. I step forward with a deep inhale of courage.

"Hold the door, will you?"

He does, and as I slip past him, I think maybe he won't stop me. He steps into the space instead. I look at him, full of rage, as the doors close.

"Scarlett."

"I just handed Rebecca my resignation. She will get it to you."

"You're supposed to have a final exit interview with me."

"Yes, I saved us both the trouble."

"That's not how this works."

"Well, forgive me when I tell you that I don't give a fuck."

He looks down, and despite myself, I regard him closely, trying to find bits of myself in him. Instead, I find he's visibly worn and in clear pain. My heart twists with both resentment and concern, but I refuse to voice my worry for him.

"I am so sorry, Scarlett. If I could change everything I've done–"

"You can't." My body instinctively presses to the elevator's hard wall, wishing there was a way to speed this box car up. "I've said my peace, Norman."

"There is so much I want to say, to tell you. I want you to know your mother, who she really was."

"I don't want to know that. I had a mother, who I loved."

"She let you endure a childhood of horror instead of calling me to help. She was a selfish woman who didn't love you enough to leave an abusive man." At my horrified silence, his breath shakes. "I don't mean to be unkind–"

"You're coming after her, trying to make me hate her so that I'll accept you. Now, don't forget this. You gave me up. You were the first person who was supposed to love me, to want me, and you gave me up. You think telling me that you're my father instead of him makes me feel any better?"

"I'm not a drunk. I'm not abusive. I've loved you and cared for you for years."

"Because it's convenient for you."

"No!"

"Yes! The second I made a move that you hadn't dealt me with, you threatened me," he doesn't deny my accusations, so I continue, "You made Giovanni go. You did everything you could to keep your control over me." I shake my head. "You can't control this. You won't. I won't let you!"

"I don't have a lot of time to make up for what I've done, and I know there's a chance you'll never forgive me, but I just want you to give me the opportunity to explain myself, to tell you about your mother, to apologize!"

The bell rings, indicating we've reached the lower level. I pull my bag closer to me, the blood flowing through me in a scalding fury. The doors open, and I quickly exit them.

"I know forcing Giovanni to leave was horrible. I know what it did to you, and the fact that I didn't repair it has definitely become a low moment for me." He somehow keeps up with my cat-like stride toward the entrance. "Please, Scarlett."

I turn to him, wide-eyed. A lump in my throat makes speaking to him very difficult. "To think that you are sick hurts because despite what you've done, I still care for you. I am sorry this is happening, but I don't want you in my life, not now. I have enough memories to last me a goddamn lifetime. Whatever you have to say will throw me over the edge, and I'd really like to remain sane."

"So, if what you want is forgiveness, fuck it, I forgive you. Clear your conscience." I look down at my feet, unable to stand the look of shock on his face at my anger. "Take care of yourself."

I spin, nearly leaping for the doors, even in heels.

"Scarlett!"

I push on the revolving doors, the glass spinning as fast as my head.

...

I'm stuffing my clothing into my luggage when I hear the door open, keys jingling loudly.

"Scar?"

"In here."

Giovanni is in the doorway in just a few moments, a leather bag hanging off his shoulder. My eyes appraise his crisp suit, so used to his casual attire from Italy. I'm reminded now how dauntingly sexy he looks in a handmade, Italian-cut suit.

"I tried calling... your phone is off?"

"I haven't turned it on yet."

"Still?"

"Yeah. How was everything?" I ask as he leans against the door frame, sticking his hands into his pockets. He smiles softly.

"Alright. Yours? You look like you got out unscathed."

I don't correct him, not wanting to weigh our night down with Norman. "It was fine. I handed in my resignation and got out of there."

"You didn't see Norman?"

"No."

He nods slowly. "Good."

"I want to get your mom a gift before we arrive."

"A gift? Why?"

"I'm not sure." I shrug, zipping up the bag with a hard tug. "I just want to make a good impression."

"Just be yourself." I look pointedly at him beneath my lashes, and his mouth creeps into a smile. "Maybe don't mention Tony."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I mutter, placing the strap of my bag onto my shoulder.

In fact, I'll do all I possibly can to get her to forget that I even know Tony.

As I approach him, he straightens and reaches his arm out, grabbing my bag from my shoulder.

"I should make you aware that she is not Maria. My mother is kind and reserved, but I told you before, she's still hindered by the loss of my dad. It is something she struggles with, takes medication for."

"Got it."

He looks down at me, breathing in. "I'm sick of planes."

I smile. "We could just hitchhike."

"Sure, I'll just carve a month out of my schedule."

"I don't hate that idea."

He shakes his head, clasping the nape of my neck. I stare up into his features, finding it hard to fathom how just the sight of him can dull any ache or pain within me. He's my light in the darkness.

"Are you going to kiss me yet?"

"No." He slides his thumb over my furrowed brow with amusement.

"Why not?"

"Because we're in your bedroom. And there are many things I'd prefer to be doing rather than getting on another fucking plane."

I lift onto my tiptoes, startling him with a swift attack on his mouth. In only a few beats, he's responding, coming at me in full force, pushing his lips into my own hard enough that I wince.

He stops himself, exhaling against my cheek. "I hated today without you."

"Me too," I whisper, my hands moving underneath his suit jacket to his tight shirt, enjoying the hard muscle I feel. He sucks in a breath and then releases it, almost laughing.

"Christ, we need to get out of here."

He reaches down, takes my hand, and practically drags me towards the door.

...

Giovanni's home is exactly as I remembered. And somehow, completely different. As he takes my bag to the bedroom, I walk into the living room, remembering my times here. It feels so long ago, back when Dixon still held so much power over my life. Back when Giovanni was still trying to convince me to love him.

So much has changed.

I stop at the French doors that lead to the patio. A gleaming pool of light shines aqua blue in the dark night.

He doesn't make his re-entrance known. It's only when I catch him in the reflection of the glass that my mouth begins to curve.

"Do you have any scotch here, by chance?"

He walks to the kitchen, and I turn to watch him pour the drinks, soaking in the sight of him. His eyes constantly find mine, a small smile gracing his lips. When he finally hands me the drink, he clinks them together, bringing the rim of the glass to his mouth.

I take a long, hard gulp, enjoying the burn that promises a dull to tense nerves. Tonight, I don't want to dwell on what happened with Norman. I want to be reckless. I want to let go of who I am for just a night.

Drink. Fuck. Laugh.

I down the small bit left in the glass, and Giovanni's brows soar upward.

"Oh?"

I grin, flicking my chin towards the doors. "Can I take a dip in your pool?"

"By all means. I put your bag in your room."

I set down the glass on his coffee table and turn, my blood flowing with a quickness, the liquor setting in. With a hard push to the glass, I feel the Californian heat against my face.

God, yes, I'm not in New York.

I enjoy a deep exhale, eyes closed. When I reopen them, I turn, finding Giovanni regarding me with his drink in hand, his expression curiously amused. His grin is infectious when I begin to remove my jacket.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

"Getting naked. You're welcome to join me."

"I'm having fun watching," he replies as I unbuckle my jeans, pushing them down until I'm only left in my undergarments. "You know, I used to be the exhibitionist here."

I laugh, unhooking the back of my bra. "Are you getting in with me or not?"

He doesn't answer. I'm surprisingly unashamed to be removing all articles of clothing on my body in front of him. The second I'm completely bare, I turn and jump into the water, submerging into the cool water.

When I resurface, his smile isn't a grin anymore. It's smaller, far more intimidating. I love that smile. It promises fire.

"Come here," I croon bravely, pushing my hair back into a sleek coat of locks.

He straightens off the glass and, like me, downs the rest of his drink in one gulp. I take the time to appreciate him as he strips down without one word of resistance, despite the fact that we're outside and he's had a history of paparazzi sneaking through the gates before.

He's all muscle and legs, thick in all the right places. He joins me in the water after a far more graceful jump. When he comes back to the surface, standing up, I struggle to inhale and exhale, stunned by what the sight of him, nude, illuminated in the crystal clear water, does to me. Beads of water coarse down his gleaming chest in true Harlequin fashion.

When he catches me staring, he pulls his inky hair back with a sniffle. "What?"

"I think this is the part where you get out and let me watch you come back in, right? That's how it goes in the movies?"

"Oh, shut up," he growls, shoving a wave of water my way. With a gasp, I save myself from it, jumping back. I settle into the side of the pool, my back against the rough cemented wall.

The water sings in small, gentle noises as he moves to the other side, opposite me. He extends his arms over the edge casually, breathing in. His muscles are stretched taut, his abdomen decorated in hard, tan ridges.

"You're too far," I complain, knowing I'm definitely pouting.

"Well, get over here."

My stomach flips, suddenly realizing that he's taking over from here.

"Over there?"

His mouth twists wryly. "I'm in control tonight."

I stare at him, my throat tight, my body on fucking fire. I want him. And the fact that he's watching me as if he can read my goddamn thoughts only increases my need for him.

I begin to move to him slowly.

His gaze is frighteningly still, unwilling to leave my own.

"That is what you want, right?"

I nod, heart racing as I swim up to him. He grabs hold of my arms to pull me the rest of the way before one leaves to grip my hip as I press up against him. He looks down at me, completely at ease in this place of power. I remember his words in the New York apartment when he told me he felt like the man I knew him to be before was a sham. In many ways, he is different. But this is constant.

With one look, he's easily the most powerful, dominating man I've ever encountered.

His hand greedily grabs a healthy amount of my ass, urging me into his erection. "Wrap your legs around me."

My grip around his neck tightens as I comply, gasping when the rubbing motion sends tingling shocks to my tensed nerves. His mouth is so close to mine, but he doesn't kiss me.

His eyes, an infinite darkness, bore into my own. His index finger lightly circles my nipple. "I love how you respond to me."

His smile widens at the sight of me completely consumed in his touch, squirming against him as he tugs on the sensitive peak.

"You're trembling." His gaze drifts over the thin hairs raised on my arms as his hand drifts down into the water between us, and two of his fingers press into my clit, which is pulsing to the sound of my racing heart. He eases a finger into me and then another, stretching the tissues. "And hungry."

One move, and his lips would be on mine. His gaze is set down between us, but I can't tear them from his face, studying the smooth lines and dips. The full shape of his dark lips, wanting to suck them into my mouth, pull and tease him.

"Fuck, you're clenching my fingers."

I can't help it. I press my mouth to his throat, the dip between his collarbone, before jumping to his stubbly jaw, the corner of his mouth. He smiles, clearly enjoying my need.

"Oh, God, Giovanni," I breathe, my eyes squeezed tight.

He turns his head to mine, lips against lips. I feel his breath against my mouth and wait in anticipation when he removes his fingers gently. "Tell me, baby."

"Please. Fuck me," I whisper to him, safe in the private force field we've built around one another.

"With pleasure." He guides me onto his cock in one swift move, and his lips crash upon my own as he too loses any and all restraint.