Page 123 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

“Happy?”

The jade of Gio’s eyes darkened as he raked his gaze down me. “Aren’t you gonna wipe?”

Really?

“Fine.” I hissed, grabbed some toilet paper and gritted my teeth as I reached between my legs.

And that was when that thing between his legs started to come back to life.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Seriously? I really wanted to know the answer to that question.

“I like control.” Gio’s shoulder lifted in a small shrug. “When you give it to me, it turns me on.”

Huh? So if I kept fighting him, then he’d leave me alone? I could do that.

“But not as much as when I have to force you to do things.”

Damnit.

Basically, there was nothing I could do that wouldn’t get him going. Lovely. Clearly I’d underestimated his intelligence. I was starting to feel out of my depth in more ways than one.

This bathroom was one of the most luxurious places I’d ever seen. Everything was shiny and clean from the black tilted floor to the four claw tub and marble countertops. Even Gio’s chiselled form and tanned skin looked expensive.

And where was I? Sitting on the toilet with my hair standing on end, goop in the corner of my eyes, and bandage half hanging off my hip. All I was missing was the smear of lipstick up the side of my face. I was kind of sad I didn’t wear make-up yesterday. To say I didn’t fit in would be an understatement.

“I hope my morning breath kills you.”

“I like your morning breath, it smells like me.”

That’s because he came in my mouth last night. Twice. I could still taste it.

“Yeah? Well, I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

So much for smelling like him.

Gio picked up a red toothbrush and held it out for me.

“I’m not going to use your toothbrush?” That was just gross.

“I got this one for you.”

Oh. Fine.

I flushed the toilet and stormed over to snatch it from him. “You’re still an asshole.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

Ugh, bastard.

Grabbing the toothpaste, I set to work and ignored the prick beside me. That is until he decided to join me. Then things turned into a strange war. He’d brush, then I’d brush. I’d spit, then he’d spit and so on.

It was scrub, scrub, spit, spit, until Gio put his toothbrush down and smacked his lips together. I wasn’t sure if him finishing first meant he won or not, but as long as I didn’t acknowledge it, then there was no victor. God, I loved technicalities.

By the way, it was not easy to brush your teeth while trying to cover your breasts.

I glared at Gio in the mirror as he strutted across the room to pull open the glass shower door.

When he bent over and reached in to turn on the water, my head tipped to the side. Testicles really weren’t attractive. They were just hanging there, swaying between his legs like sacs of flesh. How was that comfortable?

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