I silenced her with a kiss until she relaxed in my embrace. “I don’t care if you’re a bald, toothless, sack of bones or Abella Danger. I want you, Gabriella. Just you. In each and every state of your life.”
“Who’s Abella Danger?”
I chuckled. Of course, she wouldn’t know who that was. “She’s a…an actress.” Porn star.
“You can’t want me after all the things I’ve told you.”
“I do. I want you, Gabi.” I held her chin and tasted her lips again. Then I got out my phone and playedI Wanna Be Loved by You.
She blinked in surprise, but when I started dancing, putting on my best Marilyn performance, her whole body was trembling with laughter.
“What, you don’t like this song? I have another one I know you like.” I switched toAdore You. She loved it yesterday when I was making her breakfast.
I put my hands behind my head and thrust my hips back and forth. She put her hand on her mouth, her eyes wide, getting all red.
Walk through fire for you
Just let me adore you
I set my palms on the window on either side of her and swayed, going up and down. Then I spun and shook my ass in a circular movement an inch away from her pussy. “Grab it, babe.”
“Oh my God. No.”
I upped my game and twerked. “How about now?”
She screamed, laughing. “How do you do that?!”
I spun again and pushed into her, holding her tight. “Now if my twerking doesn’t convince you to move in with me, I don’t know what else can.” I turned off the music and summoned all the courage I’d left in me. “So would you be my Gabriella? My realmy Gabriella?”
CHAPTER43
Gabrielle
Three Months Later
I didn’t move in with Fabio. That was crazy. His apartment was tiny, and despite how small Tiara was, she managed to own and occupy the whole place. However, in May, I gradually let him stay at my place more often and got used to sleeping with earplugs because anybody that looked like him had to come with serious flaws, such as a deviated septum that made him snore like a fifty-year-old truck.
Two weeks later, he asked if he had a septoplasty, would I finally let him move in?
Guess what? I said yes.
I didn’t really care about the snoring, and I was going to let him move in either way. Even if he owned more thongs than I did and needed twice as much space as Jack’s side of the wardrobe to fit his costumes and props. But he didn’t have to know that. If a guy offered to fix his snoring, you never said no.
Except in my case, maybe I should have.
Because after we ate popcorn, watching a cheesy movie, had an ambitious lovemaking session that kept me up until three in the morning, and snuggled earplug free, he must have thought I fell asleep before he did and went ahead and whispered a secret.
“Ti amo, Gabi.”
What in the actual fuck? Did he just say he loved me? No, I must have been dreaming.
“Ti amo tanto, cuore mio.”
I froze in place, compulsively pretending I was asleep until his breath gained a steady rhythm and I was sure he was sleeping. Then I locked myself in the bathroom, wrestling a panic attack.
I rummaged through my medicine cabinet and took something for the anxiety. It managed to stop the panic attack but not the rumblings in my head.
How? When? Why?How?
