Page 23 of One Filthy Kiss

But it’s the faces in the background that cause me to zoom in on the photograph.

Familiar faces. They’re not looking at the camera but at each other, smiling and holding hands as they always did. My heart beats erratically as I stare right back at my parents.

5

MEGAN

I wakeup when the dawn is painting the sky in hazy shades of pink and lilac.

We’re still on the rooftop, on the couch, a cozy blanket thrown across our naked bodies. Giovanni is next to me, his face rosy and slack in slumber, one tanned arm thrown casually across my body.

While I have him all to myself, I study his face. His thick dark eyelashes, high cheekbones, the slender nose and chiseled jawline covered with neat dark stubble. I’m tempted to run my fingers through his raven-black hair the way I did last night, but I don’t want to wake him. I want to relive in my head what happened on this couch without any distractions.

Last night.

What the actual fuck happened!

Not only did I drop my guard and let Gio in after all my promises to myself to keep Amber safe and always put her first, but I let him fuck me.

Heat floods my face, and my pulse races.

I didn’t let him fuck me—oh no, I can’t possibly claim to be the delicate heroine from a historical romance—because the truth is,Ifuckedhim.

I rode him like a cowgirl, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

Chewing my bottom lip, I raise the edge of the blanket with my fingertip and study his ripped body. The tattoo of a cross that runs straight down his chest to his abdomen, the tiny wing inked onto his hip bones, replicas of the angel wings spread across his back.

My pussy tingles at the thought of his cock sliding in and out of me, and I’m instantly wet.

Why didn’t Nikki,my best friend, ever tell me what I was missing? Or did I get lucky by choosing to lose my virginity on a rooftop in the center of Manhattan to a billionaire demi-god with angel wings on his perfect back? Not only did I drop my guard, tell him about Amber’s father, and then get naked in front of him, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would do it all again.

I sneak my hand under the blanket and touch myself between my legs. I’m wet and sore, but I’m already throbbing. For him. I slide my legs apart, just enough for my breath to catch when my fingers graze the swollen flesh, and I get the joke now about needing a cushion the morning after.

A faint flush of disappointment crawls underneath my skin and settles in my stomach when I remind myself that we’re traveling back to LA today.

You agreed to breakfast, Meggie. One meal, and then I’ll bring you back and you’ll never have to set eyes on me again.

Why do I want to cry when I think about never seeing him again? I only just met him yesterday, but it feels as though he’s been waiting for me all my life, watching me from behind the stage curtains, ready to pick me up when I forgot my lines.

It’s crazy, I tell myself. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. He’s a billionaire with a private jet and a film studio in LA, and this—whatever this is—was repayment for kissing me onscreen. He probably can’t wait to take me and Amber back to LA and get his playboy lifestyle back on track. In a week’s time, he probably won’t even remember my name.

“Morning, Meggie.”

He jolts me out of my reverie. I didn’t even realize that he was awake, and I pray that I didn’t say any of that out loud.

“Are you touching yourself for me?” He peers underneath the blanket, a lazy grin lighting up his beautiful features.

“I… No… Maybe?” Surely, I can be forgiven for wanting to touch him again. Once simply isn’t enough, and Nikki would tell me to go for it if she was here.

Gio kisses me long and hard, and I barely have time to catch my breath before he whispers, “Stay right there.”

Then he straddles my legs on the couch, pulls the blanket over his head, and disappears. I feel his tongue leaving damp tracks down my body and instinctively open my legs, but then I remember the traces of blood smearing my inner thighs and try to close them again.

His head reappears with the blanket wrapped around him and clutched under his chin like a kid playing dress-up. “Is that a no, Meggie?”

“No.” Fuck. How do I say to the hottest man on the planet that I don’t want him to see the blood between my legs, especially after what we did last night?

He leans over me, supporting his upper body weight on his forearms, and traces my lips with his fingertip. “I’ve seen every part of you. I’ve tasted you. I’ve fucked you till you can’t sit down. Do you think your blood is going to turn me off?”