No Strings Attached

Chapter Sixteen

Restart, heart. Restart.

For a split second, when he straightens and begins to walk through the crowds to me, I let myself feel the joy of knowing someone has been here waiting for me. I let myself feel the excitement of knowing that it's Giovanni Martinelli... and then I have to let it go, remembering that what I'm feeling is a reaction to his masterful skills in bed.

I'm bewitched. He knows it, I know it too. Thankfully, I know it's also not love.

I don't think I could handle love right now.

Dressed in an onyx button-up, rolled at the sleeves and unbuttoned to perfection, tucked into the same color slacks and handmade leather shoes, the cap on his head—that doesn't match the business look he's got going at all—does little to blend him into the people around him.

Thankfully, almost everyone is already too preoccupied with each other to double take.

I can't take my eyes off of him. He stops in front of me, smelling of soap and his fragrant cologne. The combination is mouthwatering.

He doesn't speak. Neither do I.

He reaches out, grabbing my bag's strap off my shoulder, smirking.

I smile slowly, utterly shocked that he's here, that we're walking out of this airport together. The contract forbids this, and yet, I'm not upset. After the night I had, I'm glad he's here. He probably knew I would be.

We walk side-by-side all the way to the curb of the entrance, where somehow Giovanni's driver has managed to convince someone of importance to remain parked at the corner of the drop-off. The man opens the door to the sleek limousine, and we both slip inside, surrounded by tinted windows.

"It's the day of your show," I whisper as he sets down my bag, removing the baseball cap after. Smartly, he reaches back, pressing the button to the divider, closing us off from his driver. The minute it's shut, I feel the finality of being alone.

Our tension is bouncing off the walls.

Passion, curiosity, desperation... the usual.

It's all here. And despite how low I've been this week, I want to be in his arms. I want him to come at me rough, make me forget everything wrong in my life, show me everything good.

"I'm aware," he finally replies, directly across from me. In a nervous gesture, I pull a strand of my hair back behind my ear.

"This is not what we're supposed to do."

"I am aware of that too."

I scoff, shaking my head. "Don't you have more important things to do?"

He smirks, and I blush at my idiocy... and his.

"I mean, than come here and pick me up at the airport?"

Cool, calm and collected, he simply stares at me. "Come here."

I take a deep breath. I've just gotten off the plane. I've slept two hours today. I look like death, but he still wants this. Somehow, I do too.

I do what he asks, moving across the small space to him. He reaches out, caressing the back of my thighs, his thumbs bringing up the skirt as he ushers me down into a straddling position. I'm on his lap, my stiff skirt bunched around my waist now as his hand grasps my backside. The other winds around the back of my neck, pulling me down to kiss him.

"Are the windows...?"

"No one can see you," he whispers against my mouth, opening his eyes.

"The driver. He'll hear us."