Nino towered over her, hands steadily unfastening his belt as his eyes raked over her lean frame.

I swallowed, heat creeping down my neck, my spine, all the way to my toes as I soaked in the scene. One hand held my book open while the other explored, touching my neck the way Nino touched Francesca’s, following his lead as he tortured her slowly. I heaved a sigh as my hand trailed over my breasts, and then I tiptoed my way down, slipping my fingertips beneath the band of my sleep shorts.

“On your knees,” he commanded.

I shuddered, licking my bottom lip as I rolled my hips, my hand sliding lower. I spread my legs, wanting more access…

And kicked the bowl of Cheetos off the bed in the process.

“Shit!” I cursed as the orange snack littered my floor, the metal bowl that held the crunchy nuggets clanging loudly against the old wood. I hastily rolled out of bed, smashing a few Cheetos to dust in the process, which made me curse again.

After a quick clean up, I flopped back into my bed, staring at where I’d left that scene bookmarked and closed in the center of the bed.

I wanted that so badly — the passion, the need, the heat. I wanted Shawn to look at me that way, with possessive desire rolling off him in plumes. I wanted him to kiss me the way Clay had, for it to not be a joke or a pretense, but real.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, considering whether or not I should just pick up where I left off in my self-care. But instead, I rolled over onto my stomach, reaching for where my phone rested on the wireless charger on my bedside table. A few taps later and it was ringing.

“Hello, Kitten,” Clay’s voice purred, deep and seductive in a way that made me believe he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

I chewed my thumbnail, but before I could back out, I took a breath and spoke as confidently as I could.

“I think I’m ready for my first lesson.”

Chapter Eight

Giana

“Can you focus?”

“Oh, trust me, I’m focusing,” Clay said Friday night, licking the pad of his thumb as he swiped another page of one of my books.

I huffed, crossing my bedroom to swipe the book out of his hands and put it back on the shelf. I made sure it was in its right place before I held up the two dress options again.

“Which one?”

“That’s what I want to know. Which one is Cheyanne going to choose?” He shook his head, thrusting a hand toward the bookshelf. “I mean, her husband who loves her and made vows, or her first love who’s back in town and can’t live without her?”