Ginevra, refusing to show the hurt she felt, asked, “For what?”
“A mutual birthday party. For me, my twin, and my oldest brother, Marcus. Our birthday already happened, but Marcus’s is coming up. Our parents like to ... do a big thing for it.”
Oh.
“When was your birthday?”
Corrado looked at her, then, something unknown flashing across his face. “Huh.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I just ... wish you would quit doing that. Surprising me, I mean. You should tell me to fuck off right now, not ask when my birthday was. Don’t care about me, Ginny.”
“Why not? Is that such a bad thing?”
“Because I’m only going to hurt you.”
She shrugged.
“But will you really, though?”
Corrado’s jaw tensed, and he let out a hard breath that almost sounded like defeat. “Girl, you have no idea the mess you just walked into here. No fucking idea at all.”
Probably not.
A part of her still didn’t care, either.
“Now, go,” he uttered.
Ginevra did, but not because he told her to. No, she spun around and left the gym because the ache between her thighs was so deep now that if she didn’t do something, then there was no telling what might happen. She was positive Corrado had been able to see the heat climbing in her cheeks, and the way she clenched her legs together in an effort to soothe that ache.
She didn’t need to be more humiliated.
This was enough.
And yet, even as she put distance between her and Corrado—one step after another until she was inside her bedroom, and slamming the door behind her—it did nothing. Nothing to help the heat curling around her throat like it was his hand there, squeezing tight. Nothing to make the need coursing through her bloodstream go away. Nothing to help the clenching of her muscles, or the fact she couldn’t catch her breath. Nothing to make that fucking stupid ache better.
How did a kiss make her that crazy?
That stupid?
That high?
God.
It was unfair.
And she just needed to feel better.
Ginevra’s back hit the door, and she acted on her need, and nothing else. Slipping a hand under the waistband of her cotton sleep shorts, she found her pussy wet already. Not that she was surprised, she’d felt the fucking wetness back there with him. It’d been far too long since she’d had release, or even thought about it, really.
Life was more important.
Everything else came first.
She came last.
But not right now.
Ginevra’s fingers worked that wetness she found at her slit higher, rubbing it into her throbbing clit with small, tight circles that had her whining, and grinding into her own hand. More, that’s what she needed.
So much fucking more.
She thought about him, then, and the way he watched her when he thought she didn’t see. The way his mouth felt as it worked against hers. How his hands felt splayed along her skin, or grabbing tight like he didn’t want to let her go.
Those circles at her clit came faster.
Her noises became louder.
She could have tried to hide it ...
She should have tried to be quiet.
Ginevra couldn’t.
And when that orgasm finally came, it felt as punishing as it did good. Like ice water down her spine, numbing her entirely as a broken cry fell from her lips, and a heat shooting straight down to her pussy to remind her she was still empty.
It had been entirely hollow.
Fuck.
Ginevra stared at the bed, and the mussed sheets where she had been sleeping not too long ago. Or rather, the comforter that had been pulled back a bit because she tended to sleep on top of the blankets instead of underneath.
Beds were always cold with only one person.
Too cold, maybe.
This whole place felt cold right now.
She didn’t want to think about that, or what she had just done. Feeling sticky, and sweaty, she just wanted a shower, and to go back to bed.
Pushing away from the door, she turned to grab the handle, pulled it open, and froze right where she stood. Across the hall, leaning in the doorway of his master bedroom, was Corrado. He didn’t look up at her; he didn’t move at all.
But she could see it.
That tightness in his jaw, and the way his tongue peeked out to snake across his lips like he might still be tasting her there. The shadows on his face, and how his next exhale came out harder than the last. His eyes, lowered but dark, when he dared to look up just a bit, although still not enough to look her in the face.
And his erection, still straining against the line of his shorts.
He’d heard her.
He’d listened.
And she didn’t know how to feel about that at all.
What did this man want with her?
Ginevra slipped down the hall toward the main bathroom. Corrado turned, and went into his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Apparently, this was what they were going to do.
Say nothing, acknowledge nothing.
Perfect.
23.
Corrado
The sky, streaked with colors as it began to darken from the evening, was the backdrop to Corrado’s thoughts as he waited for Ginevra to meet him at the front of the penthouse. He didn’t quite know what to expect for her outfit, but for the fact he told the lady who sent it over from the private boutique what kind of party it would be.
A Guzzi event.
That meant something spectacular.
If he had needed Ginevra in a ballgown or something like that, then he would have let the woman know that, as well. Really, she just needed to look good, and as though she belonged on his arm for the evening. The rest, he was sure she could handle without help.
Still, as his thoughts drifted to Ginevra and the upcoming evening, he also thought about someone else. Or rather, the fact that his cell phone was quiet, and had been for several days. Other than calls from his family, and one to confirm yes, he wanted the white Maserati removed from storage for the night, his phone was silent.
Completely abnormal.
Alessio called often.
It could be possible that Alessio took on a last-minute assignment from The League that took him out of the country, or required him to drop off the radar for a while. Even then, though, he would always let Corrado know.
The silence bothered him.
Something felt wrong.
Corrado couldn’t think on it for long. The click of heels coming down the hallway toward the penthouse’s entrance had him turning his head away from the view at the window in just enough time to see Ginevra come around the corner.
And damn.
What a sight.
It would have been a shame to miss that.
The gray, silk dress with thin straps over her shoulders was tight around the bodice, and cut low. Showing off just a peek of the beige lace bra cups underneath that made her chest look fucking fantastic. His gaze traveled lower, taking in the tightly cinched waist of the dress, and the way it fell over her hips and came to a stop quite a few inches above the knees.
It was short as hell.
She showed off all kinds of leg, and he loved it. He really did. She held tight to a matching clutch in her hand. The strappy, five-inch heels put her at damn near eye-level with him, and every step she took showed off a little more of the olive-toned skin of her thighs. And apparently, a diamond garter around her right thigh that only peeked out when the slit in the skirt of the dress opened with her steps.