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My cheeks burn brightly. "Knock it off."
"Wetting,"Medici rasps in my ear. "Try and deny it—see where it gets you."
I fight off the ooey gooey warmth bubbling up inside me. "This conversation is over."
Here’s the truth—in my excitement due to my kidnapping and traveling to Italy for the first time, I forgot about mybedroom needs.
Ryder, Cyan, and Enzo know all about them—I’m not usually hesitant to speak about them openly.
Yet, with Medici? For some reason, I clam up.
Medici smirks as he massages my back. "Don’t be shy."
"Listen," I snarl, whipping around. "My desires areproprietary.I’ll tell you about them when I’m ready."
"I take it you’re not ready."
"I’m not."
"You also don't realize this, but you tacitly admitted that youdohave those desires. But you’re simply waiting to share them with me."
My cheeks burst into full-on flames. "You’re dreaming."
Medici massages my back. "There’s no need to run from who you are. I don't mind, sunflower—in fact,I like it.I wasn’t able to do a lot of things I enjoyed while locked up. My prison partner—my bottom bunk bitch—was open to certain activities, but he scorned my favorites."
This is the first time Medici’s opened up about his time in the joint.
I furrow my brow. "Are you ready to share about your past? Or will youshut downlike last time?"
It’s mighty funny that Medici nags me to be open when he can’t even tell me about his life. I didn’t even query him about his relationships—I merely returned the questions he put to me.
Medici couldn’t even take that.
Medici frowns. "My past is tougher to speak about than yours."
I put my hands on my hips. "Is that so." This comes out like a statement of fact more so than a question.
"Yes."
"Uh huh."
"I went to prison formurder," Medici snarls, ramming his finger in my face. "You try dealing with that shit. I’d like to see you be open about it."
"You can dish it out but you can’t take it."
A sales associate wanders over to us. "Do you two need any help picking out some cute clothes? Skirts? T-shirts? Onesies?"
I smile at the associate. Not only does he provide a necessary distraction from our argument, but he exudes kindness and acceptance.
"No, thank you." Medici dismisses him at once.
I stick my right index finger up. "I’d like to try on a skirt."
Why not? Maybe this is something that’d appeal to me. Now that I’m in Italy, it’s time to try new things—quit holding onto the past.
The associate grins. "Oh, I’m glad you said that. When you walked in, I thought to myself:He’d make a perfect femboy."
I cough as I bang my chest. "Let’s not go that far."
