“Go ahead, Gio,” I whisper, answering the unspoken question lingering between us. “Kiss me.”
His eyes widen, and it takes him only one second to thread his hand through my hair and lean in.
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for a quick, uncomplicated peck.
Nothing happens.
The drop of gelato slides down my chin to my neck, and I open my eyes to find Giovanni’s lips still hovering over my skin.
When his mouth finally presses against the bottom of my chin, he simply breathes. After a few moments, his tongue darts out to swipe at the melted ice cream, and I suck in a shaky breath.
My eyes flutter close as soon as his lips pucker into a soft kiss, followed by a gentle drag of his mouth down my neck, tracing the trail of dripping gelato.
It’s a kiss in theory, but a serenade in practice. It’s like every press of his lips leaves intimate lyrics behind.
I’ve wanted you, the first kiss sings.
You’ve wanted me, too, the second kiss echoes.
Each kiss becomes clumsier in an effortless way, like he’s not aiming for perfection. Like his only goal is to taste my skin. My head gently lolls back at his tenderness, and I wonder what it would feel like if his lips brushed up against mine. If I could kiss him back.
“That’s really great,” Enzo praises. “I think I got it!”
Giovanni leans all the way back, yet his fingers remain threaded through my hair. His arm now awkwardly extends all the way, because he still hasn’t removed his hand. I don’t think he’s remotely aware of his body. It’s as if we’re stuck in a mutual trance.
“Gio, you can relax your pose now, we’re done,” Enzo tells him absentmindedly, attention fixed on his viewfinder.
Gio breaks eye contact with me and finally notices his frozen placement. He yanks his arm back so quickly that my hair swooshes to the front as if there was a gust of wind pushing it forward.
I reflexively bring my fingers to the spot where he kissed me, like it’s an area that needs to be soothed, and for a moment, I wonder if it was all in my head. But then I behold Giovanni’s intense gaze fixed on my chin.
And I watch him lick the corner of his mouth, where a single drop of strawberry gelato remains.
Chapter 23
Giovanni
The taste of Tessa’s skin still lingers on my lips as we pull in front of my parents house after a long, silent drive. Gliding my tongue behind my teeth, I taste the saltiness ofhermixed with strawberry gelato.Was it strawberry? Or was it cinnamon? Peach, maybe?Truthfully, it could’ve been kerosene. I’ve had tunnel vision from the moment we arrived two days ago. The scent of her pear shampoo perfumes the car, and I breathe it in, hoping it might stick to my clothes.
Opening my mouth to say something, anything, I immediately shut it, which is something I’vebeendoing since the moment we climbed into the car. All the gaping is making my throat dry, but I avoid swallowing out of fear I’ll forget what happened today.
Go ahead, Gio. Kiss me.
I confirm with myself once again that yes, shedidsay that. She wanted this… wantedme.After everything we’ve gone through in New York, it’s nearly impossible to believe kissing her happened somewhere outside of my head.
I take a deep breath as I park the car. I hedge a quick glance at Tessa, who’s staring straight out of the windshield. We start talking at the same time.
“Hey, so?—”
“I wanted to?—”
Silence, then:
“You go?—”
“Go ahead?—”
This is fucking painful. I can’t help but laugh, and a slow grin spreads across Tessa’s face, too.
