Page 290 of Alessio

Her noises became louder.

She could have tried to hide it …

She should have tried to be quiet.

Ginevra couldn’t.

And when that orgasm finally came, it felt as punishing as it did good. Like ice water down her spine, numbing her entirely as a broken cry fell from her lips, and a heat shooting straight down to her pussy to remind her she was still empty.

It had been entirely hollow.

Fuck.

Ginevra stared at the bed, and the mussed sheets where she had been sleeping not too long ago. Or rather, the comforter that had been pulled back a bit because she tended to sleep on top of the blankets instead of underneath.

Beds were always cold with only one person.

Too cold, maybe.

This whole place felt cold right now.

She didn’t want to think about that, or what she had just done. Feeling sticky, and sweaty, she just wanted a shower, and to go back to bed.

Pushing away from the door, she turned to grab the handle, pulled it open, and froze right where she stood. Across the hall, leaning in the doorway of his master bedroom, was Corrado. He didn’t look up at her; he didn’t move at all.

But she could see it.

That tightness in his jaw, and the way his tongue peeked out to snake across his lips like he might still be tasting her there. The shadows on his face, and how his next exhale came out harder than the last. His eyes, lowered but dark, when he dared to look up just a bit, although still not enough to look her in the face.

And his erection, still straining against the line of his shorts.

He’d heard her.

He’d listened.

And she didn’t know how to feel about that at all.

What did this man want with her?

Ginevra slipped down the hall toward the main bathroom. Corrado turned, and went into his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Apparently, this was what they were going to do.

Say nothing, acknowledge nothing.

Perfect.

The sky, streaked with colors as it began to darken from the evening, was the backdrop to Corrado’s thoughts as he waited for Ginevra to meet him at the front of the penthouse. He didn’t quite know what to expect for her outfit, but for the fact he told the lady who sent it over from the private boutique what kind of party it would be.

A Guzzi event.

That meant something spectacular.

If he had needed Ginevra in a ballgown or something like that, then he would have let the woman know that, as well. Really, she just needed to look good, and as though she belonged on his arm for the evening. The rest, he was sure she could handle without help.

Still, as his thoughts drifted to Ginevra and the upcoming evening, he also thought about someone else. Or rather, the fact that his cell phone was quiet, and had been for several days. Other than calls from his family, and one to confirm yes, he wanted the white Maserati removed from storage for the night, his phone was silent.

Completely abnormal.