No Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty-One

Feeling the sharp pang of drowsiness at first light and the immediate signs of a hangover, a very unwelcome feeling, my eyes immediately close tight as the rays of light shine in through the glass windows.

There are a few things I realize when I open them again.

One: I'm in Giovanni's bed.

Two: My head is resting on a pillow at the foot of the bed.

And three: Giovanni is lying on the bed too, his head on the opposite side.

Lazily, I try to process last night, knowing that's impossible. I have no fucking clue what's going on. But as of late, he's sneakily gained control of this situation.

I wonder what he was trying to tell me last night. But as soon as I begin to ponder it, I become uneasy and force myself to stop. I focus on watching him. It's easier to admire him. I haven't been able to do so undetected before. He's always so aware of where I am, where my eyes are.

It's why he's come to know that I cannot resist him.

My eyes give it all away.

Here we are, only a few weeks into the affair and he's already changed the terms. And I've let him. I can't believe I've let him.

Lying on his stomach, his muscular curves bared from the waist up where the sheet ends, his strong arms are wrapped around his pillow, his face gentle in deep slumber. As usual, I'm shocked by the sheer size of him. His wide shoulders, his naturally tanned back, the outline of his long legs under the gray sheet.

I stare at him until my eyes begin to close again, too tired to remain conscious.

When they reopen, it's because the bed is vacant and Giovanni is moving around the room, showered now. I lift the sheet up to my chest, sitting up uncomfortably.

"Hi," I whisper, pulling my hair from my face. He turns at the closet, smiling softly.

"Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

I glance at the clock. "Surprisingly well. I don't remember the last time I slept over eight hours."

I watch him pull on a white button-up, surprised to see him in jeans.

"Is there somewhere you have to be? I can get out of here—"

"I just have to meet up with someone for an hour or two."

Someone? My mind surges into overdrive.

I push back the sheet, standing. "Um, sure thing. I'll be out in five."

"You really don't need to leave. I was thinking..."

"No, no. It's good. I have to get a few things done anyway."

"I didn't expect you to be up already. I would cancel—"

I shake my head, grabbing my clothing off of the ground hastily. "It's really fine, Giovanni."

He grabs my wrist as I'm walking by him. "Scar."

I look from his hand to his eyes, taking in the calm expression on his face. "It's my sister I'm meeting."

"Well that's nice," I reply nonchalantly, concealing the relief I hate to feel.

"You don't have to leave," he says, his hand resting now against my bare hip.

"I think I should," I say, smiling slightly. His eyes observe me silently for far too long. I grow nervous.

"You're acting strange."

My lips press together. "I know."

He smirks. "Go to lunch with me."

"In public?"