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)
Piece by piece, he’s shown me the parts of himself that don’t fit that narrative.
The way he talks about his sister and his teammates is with so much care and affection—and the effort he’s making to show me he’s interested in me as a person, and not just a casual bang…
Gio is the guy willing to admit when he’s scared, who wants to know what makes me tick—not just on the surface, but the things that make me me.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft in the dark. “Are you falling asleep on me?”
“Not yet,” I whisper. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
I hesitate, wondering how much I should share.
“About you,” I admit. “How you’re not what I expected.”
“Good different or bad different?” he asks, his tone teasing but with curiosity.
“Good different,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks warm even though he can’t see me. “You’re more than what I expected.”
“More, huh?” I can hear him grinning. “I like the sound of that.”
I laugh, nudging him with my shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“No promises,” he says, chuckling. “My head is already super big.”
I get the innuendo about his dick and ignore it.
“I noticed,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it.
“It must be exhausting carrying all that ego around.”
“It’s a burden,” he agrees, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “But someone’s gotta do it.” Gio pauses a beat. “On a scale of one to ten, how into me are you?”
Whoa. “Where did that question come from?”
“Just asking,” he says casually, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s science based.”
“Science based?” I repeat, laughing softly.
“Yep. Completely unbiased research,” he says. “So? One to ten.”
“Hmm—probably a solid six?” I tease.
“A six?” he exclaims loudly, voice filling the room. He is so offended. “That’s barely above average!”
I try not to laugh. “What’s my score?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he says without missing a beat. “A twelve.”
Somehow I knew he was going to say that.
I squeeze his hand. “I was messing with you.” Obviously. “I’d give you an eleven.”
He is the most loveable, sweetest guy I've ever dated and it's only been two weeks.
“An eleven? Not even a twelve, like you?”
I laugh softly, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “You have to leave room for improvement.”
“Oh, so this is a motivational thing? Got it.”
“Exactly.” I yawn. “Consider it an incentive to keep being sweet to me.”
I squeeze his hand again, my heart swelling at how easy this feels—how easy he feels. Somehow he has managed to completely dismantle every wall I’ve built around myself.
“You’re kind of the best,” I admit with a quiet whisper as if I’m admitting it to myself.
“You’re the best,” he murmurs.
I smile, my fingers tracing small patterns against his palm. “You don’t have to say that just because I called you the best.”
“I mean it.”
I tilt my head slightly to look up at him, even though the room is dark and I can’t make out his expression. “You’re really good at this whole relationship thing.”
“Thanks,” he says, his tone teasing. “I’m trying.”
“No, seriously,” I say, my voice softening. “You’re like—the best communicator I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re making it hard not to fall for you.”
My breath catches, my chest tightening in the best possible way.
I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that.
I don’t know how to respond, so instead, I let him pull me closer, wrapping me in his arms like he’s afraid to let go. His warmth surrounds me, and I let myself sink into it, my head resting against his chest.
“Is that okay?” he asks softly, breaking the silence. “That I’m falling?”
I press my cheek against him, his heartbeat steady and sure beneath my ear.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Of course it’s okay.”
I feel his lips press lightly against the top of my head, a gesture so sweet it makes my chest ache. “You scare me a little,” he admits quietly.
“Me?” I ask, tilting my head to look up at him again, even though I can’t see his face.
“Yeah,” he says, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on my back.
“You make me want things I didn’t think I’d want this soon.” He doesn’t say what those things are.
We fall into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that feels full even though no words are spoken. His hand moves to tangle with mine again, our fingers lacing together under the blanket. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes me feel grounded—safe.
“You’re the easiest person to be around,” I murmur, almost to myself.
“So are you,” Gio replies, squeezing my hand.
I don’t know how long we lay there like that, wrapped up in each other, but my body starts to relax, the weight of the day slipping away. My eyelids grow heavy, my mind finally quiet for the first time in what feels like forever.