Page 43 of The Demons We Hide

The two of us have been lying in Roquel’s creaky bed for the last half an hour as the sweat dried on our skin. For once, I’d actually been enjoying his company. The hand stroking along my spine, tracing invisible patterns over my bared flesh pauses, and Gio sits up. I can feel his eyes on me.

“I’m serious,” he says.

With a grimace, I snag one of the pillows and drag it over my head as if that will somehow lessen the burn of his attention. I know he’s serious. That’s the problem.

“Jules.” The pillow is ripped free from my head, and I turn just in time to see it being flung out of reach across the bed. I grumble and release a slow breath. The quiet time was nice while it lasted. “Say you’ll go.”

“Why?” I sit up and move away from him, reaching for my discarded t-shirt on the floor.

Before I can get it up and over my head, he snatches it from my hand and tosses it in the same direction as the pillow. “What the fuck, Gio?” I pin him with a dark look.

“Don’t start getting dressed,” he says. “It only means you’re putting your armor back on.”

“Maybe I need my armor,” I snap back, crawling across the bed in the direction of my shirt.

Gio blocks my attempt and pushes me back onto the bed. He looms over me, all wide shoulders and corded muscle—though I’ve noticed he’s thinned out a bit since his time at the hospital. I didn’t think a few weeks were enough to make a difference, but if he hasn’t been able to play football or work out like he normally would, I suppose it makes sense.

Still, ifthisis him less muscular, then I know the second he’s back on that field, he’ll pack on the weight and bulk all over again. I struggle underneath him, trying to squirm out of his grip. When all he does is smirk down at me, I level him with a glare and shove my knee up. To my utter disgust, he blocks me with his own leg and then lowers himself until my hips are flush against his and there’s no option to move.

A snarl rockets up my throat and I buck against him. “Let mego!”

“You owe me two more wishes,” he reminds me, stilling my fight.

Fucking hell. He can’t be serious. As if the bastard is reading my mind, he arches an eyebrow at my expression. “I’m dead serious,” he tells me. “You agreed and you can’t back out now.”

I collapse against the mattress. "You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

His head tilts to the side, and those honey dark eyes of his move from my face down the length of me—or what he can see at least. When they move back up and meet mine again, I’m gritting my teeth in an effort to ignore the fact that my nipples have pebbled into hard little points beneath his seeking gaze.

“We’re not lettingyougo, Prep Girl,” he says. “You should get used to it.”

It doesn’t make any sense to me. Why would they want to keep me? I’m not special. I’m a fucking burden. Everything I touch turns to ash.

Gio releases a breath and reaches up, tucking one soft strand of semi-damp hair behind my ear. I don’t flinch away and for an instant, I realize that he’s on top of me—pinning me down—and I’m not freaking out. I certainly don’t like his forceful ways, but … somewhere between when we first met and now, I have come to understand, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt, he’d never fucking hurt me that way.

“Please.” The word is a soft plea. “Just for the weekend. Go away with us and we can… fuck, I don’t know, maybe go back to being friends.”

“Friends.” I deadpan. “You really think we can be friends?”

His smile is all rueful arrogance. “Friends with benefits?” he offers.

“More like enemies with benefits,” I mutter.

At that, his easy smile falls away, replaced by a serious expression. “We’re not your enemy,” he tells me. “We never have been.”

I can’t meet his eyes, so instead I turn my cheek to the side and scan the room. In the mirror across from us, our bodies are two puzzle pieces lying against one another. The hard length of his cock, somehow renewed after the way he’d fucked me, prods at my belly. I close my eyes, shutting out that image too.

Why can’t I stay the hell away from these men? What is it about them?

“Jules?” I don’t know how long it’s been, but it’s clear when Gio says my name again, a question lifting the last note of it, that he’s tired of waiting for an answer.

“Fine.” I have little choice now. “One weekend.”

I open my eyes and turn back to him. His grin is radiant, and he ducks down before I realize what he’s doing and seals his mouth to mine. A gasp escapes me and his tongue is there, invading, pressing against my own and twining with it. That gasp turns to a moan as he releases my hands and I arch up, grinding against his cock. A fluttering sensation bubbles up in my core. A want. A need. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before and never with Bran or any of my past boyfriends.

He’s not your boyfriend,I remind myself.None of them are. They can’t be trusted.

I know that, but for this moment, I just want this. I want something for myself. So, I kiss Gio back and when he shifts his hips and lifts away from me, I part my legs. He slides into my pussy with deft movement, the head of his cock squeezing past my entrance and thrusting until he’s completely inside.

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