One moment, Giana was laughing, the taste of Rodrigo's surprise still warm on her lips. Next, his hand was tangled in her hair, tilting her head back, and his mouth was on hers.
Rodrigo kissed her with the desperation of a man who had teetered on the edge of losing everything and now found solid ground beneath his feet.
Giana's hands went under the soft wool of his sweater, needing to feel his skin.
This heat and the raw, consuming connection were the only things that shut out the world that wouldn't stop trying to kick her. It was a middle finger to her past, to the ghosts whisperingdutyin her ear.
She bit Rodrigo's lower lip, a sharp nip of retaliation for the way he had made her watch him unravel hours before.
He growled into her mouth, the vibration humming through her bones. His other arm banded around her waist, crushing her against the unyielding plane of his chest. The scent and heat of him flooded her senses, dizzying and dangerously familiar.
Rodrigo walked her backward until her back hit the cool, smooth plaster of the studio wall. The impact jarred her, a gasp escaping into the heated space between their mouths.
Rodrigo didn't relent. His kiss deepened, and one large hand slid down from Giana's waist, over the curve of her hip, gripping her thigh just below her ass. He hauled her up and wrapped her leg around him.
The hard ridge of Rodrigo's dick pressed insistently against the seam of her leggings, against her core, drawing a ragged moan from her throat. The sound only ignited him further. His hips rocked forward, a slow grind that sent sparks skittering up her spine.
His lips left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, teeth scraping lightly over her pulse point.
Giana leaned into him, her head thudding back against the wall, exposing more of her neck. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped her, making his breath hitch against her skin.
"Giana." Her name was a ragged rasp against her collarbone.
Rodrigo lifted his head, his pupils blown wide and fixed on her. The passion in them was staggering. It wasn't just lust. It hadneverbeen just lust between them. His thumb brushed over her kiss-swollen bottom lip.
"Can I touch you?" The question was low, gravelly, layered with a tension that vibrated between them. It wasn't a command. It was a request, so raw and vulnerable that it barely sounded like him.
Giana's mind screamed a thousand warnings. Her body, craving the release only his touch could bring, overruled the fear and the voices telling her how bad an idea it was. She wanted him, and she didn't care if it was right or wrong anymore.
"Yes," she whispered.
The single word shattered Rodrigo's remaining restraint. His free hand slid from her waist, slipping beneath the loose hemof her T-shirt. Calloused fingertips traced a burning path up her ribcage, skimming the sensitive skin just below the swell of her breast.
Giana shivered, her nails digging into his shoulders through the sweater. His palm flattened against her stomach, warm and possessive, before sliding lower, over the soft cotton of her leggings, pressing firmly against the heat building between her legs.
"Fuck," she gasped and moved against the pressure. She needed more. So much more.
Rodrigo watched her, his gaze locked on her face, cataloging every flicker of sensation that crossed her features. His thumb found the center of the pressure, rubbing in slow circles through the fabric.
She whimpered, her leg tightening around his waist, pulling him closer, grinding herself against the hard ridge of him, the friction maddening and not enough.
"Rodrigo..." His name was a plea, torn from her lips.
He didn't speak. His eyes held hers, dark and fathomless, as his fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings and the thin cotton of her underwear beneath and pushed them down.
Cool air chilled Giana's exposed skin for a fleeting second before the heat of his touch replaced it. His fingers slid through her slick folds, finding her clit with unerring accuracy.
A ragged cry escaped her, and her head slammed back against the wall again, making stars burst behind her eyelids. His touch wasn't a tentative exploration. It was confident, demanding. He knew her body and what it wanted without her saying a thing.
Rodrigo's thumb circled her clit, applying perfect, torturous pressure, while two fingers slid deep inside her, curling upward in a motion that had her crying out, her pussy clenching desperately around the intrusion.
"Kiss me," she breathed. Her hands scrambled for purchase on his shoulders, then tangled in his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers. It was messy and desperate as he worked her.
Rodrigo set a brutal rhythm, fingers plunging deep, thumb pressing and circling, igniting a firestorm within her. The sensations were overwhelming, obliterating the past few hours.
There was only the hard wall at her back, the solid strength of him pinning her, the exquisite torture of his fingers moving inside her, the perfume of paint and wood andhimfilling the air.
Giana was hurtling toward the edge, fast and terrifyingly out of control. Her breathing came in sharp, shallow gasps against his mouth. A low, animal sound vibrated in his chest, echoing the frantic pulse thundering in her own.
