From my ribs... to my collarbone.
From my collarbone... to my neck.
The higher his hand goes, the faster my pulse climbs.
He moves closer, when I already thought there was no space left between us.
It's dangerously close now. He moves in this slow, hypnotic way.
He doesn't give me time to feel awkward. He just slides us straight past this is weird intooh, I'm melting, okay.
He tilts his head, and his fingers slide up, landing right on my throat, right over my Adam's apple. He moves them slowly, up and down, using barely any pressure.
I force myself to look at him. He's already watching me, with the hungriest, sluttiest look I've ever seen, while still tracing those slow lines up and down my throat.
"And what if I say I want you to make that sound again?" he whispers.
"The one you make when I grabbed your beautiful hair..."
No. No, no, Gio, please.
Don't throw compliments at me like that.
That's torture. For my body and my brain. I try not to show it, I keep looking at him, pretending I'm fine.
I fail. I turn my head away, because it's too much. He brushes his nose along my jaw. "You want me to stop?"
No, I don't.
God, I really,reallydon't.
And that's exactly why you need to stop, Fontana.
Because I don't want you to. I'm not strong enough for this.
His hand moves again.
It starts at my neck, then lower. Across my chest. Down my sternum. Further, over my stomach.
He stops right above my waistband. "You'd let me," he says, lips brushing mine now.
"You'd let me do it right here, wouldn't you? If I told you to. If I pushed you down and—"
I choke out a breath. My hands dig into the stone beside me.
My dick is throbbing.
For him.
Again.
He is so close I can taste him.
"I'd let them cut my fucking legs off just to do it," he says softly.
I make a sound. I don't even recognize myself anymore. I turn my head, just enough.
Our lips brush.
