Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I bite down on my lower lip, bending to scoop the little pain in the ass up off the floor, carrying him to the other room so I can bond with Gio in peace and quiet without this tiny terror ruining the evening.
He whines for a second, but I give him a firm look. “Don’t even start. You’ll survive.”
He is so spoiled and it’s not even my fault.
Gio gloats as I close the laundry room door and turn back toward him. “I feel like I should be flattered that you’re locking your guard dog away for me.”
Ha ha.
“Don’t be. If I thought he’d actually go for your throat, he’d still be out here,” I tease, crossing my arms. “Honestly, he’s more likely to annoy you to death than to try to eat you.”
Gio snaps his jaw like a shark, wanting to take a bite of my arm.
“I can handle him. The jury is still out on you though.”
I roll my eyes, heading to the living room. “Big talk for someone who hasn’t proven themselves worthy of the remote yet.”
While I wouldn’t call my living room impressive, it’s comfortable, and the big windows offer a decent view of the rooftops of my neighbors and twinkling lights shining in the distance.
I love city living.
“Oh, I’m worthy,” he replies, dropping onto the cushion next to me. His knee is plastered against mine and he takes my hand, kissing my palm. “I just haven’t gotten the chance to prove it.”
“Well, here’s your chance.” I toss the remote onto his lap. “Pick something. But if it’s boring or another action movie, you lose serious brownie points—and don’t even think about putting on a documentary.”
“Who hurt you?” He holds a hand to his chest as if he’s been hurt. “Documentaries are great.” Gio hums as he channel and app surfs, finally stopping on a movie. “Horror okay with you?”
Not my first choice, but I put him in charge and thus cannot complain.
“Sure, this works.” I cozy up next to him, sinking into his side and the cushions.
“You sure you won’t chicken out halfway through?”
“Not a chance.”
He glances at me, a playful glint in his eyes. “If you get scared, feel free to grab my arm. Or climb on top. Whatever.”
I giggle.
The opening credits roll, and for the first fifteen minutes, we actually watch. Well, mostly.
Gio spends them sneaking sidelong glances at me whenever a tense moment builds, clearly waiting for me to flinch or react. I refuse to give him the satisfaction, keeping my expression neutral even when a jump scare is on screen.
He shakes his head. “Remind me not to put on another scary movie during movie night. You’re no fun.”
That makes me laugh. “Not screaming is a skill.”
His grin widens, and before I can process what’s happening, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Thanks for having me over. I was excited.”
He was excited.
Awww, I love that.
Tilt my chin up so he can kiss me on the mouth in a proper hello, now that we’re settled in.
The kiss is soft, tentative at first, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. His hand moves to gently stroke the side of my face, thumb brushing against my cheek as he deepens the kiss. The warmth of his lips, the way he tastes faintly of mint from gum—it’s enough to make the rest of the world fade away.
He’s smiling, and it’s not the cocky grin I’ve gotten used to—it’s softer, genuine, and it sends a warmth straight to my chest.
“How was your day?” he asks, his voice low, like he’s afraid to break the moment.
I let out a small laugh, the kind that escapes when you’re caught off guard.
“It was fine—nothing exciting, which is always good. What about yours?”
He shrugs, pulling back and leaning into the couch cushions, taking my hand along with him and pressing his thumb into my palm, massaging it.
“Worked out. Had practice.” He pauses. “Went down to Nova’s after you left my place—she won’t be walking in on us any time soon. For the record, she thought it was hilarious.”
Great. At least one of us did.
My face immediately flushes at the memory of his sister seeing us having sex.
And before I can reply, Gio’s gaze flicks to my coffee table.
“Hold on—is that Connect Four?”
You bet your sweet ass it is.
I follow his line of sight to the game sitting neatly on the table, the red and yellow pieces already half-filled from my last game against myself a while back.
“It is.” It’s a classic.
Gio untangles himself from me and leans forward to sort the pieces, sliding the tiny blue bar at the bottom, allowing all the chips to land on the table.
“Dude, I haven’t played this game in ages.”
Same. I like it because it looks cute on the table.
A fun talking point that no one actually plays; not that anyone besides Dolly and my other friends come over.