Page 11 of And Everything In Between (Love By Any Means #3)

Two Hours Later

“What’s your sign?” Paige asked randomly.

Giovanni laughed.

“Oh, we on that now? Real nigga, that’s my sign.” He was a little tipsy and enjoying her company. They had a playful vibe, and he could dig it. She’d spent most of the night laughing and talking. And he let her.

“Answer the question,” she said, kissing her teeth and rolling her eyes.

“Leo.”

“Explains the boss vibes.”

He grinned. “What about you?”

“Gemini. Duality, baby. Two sides to everything and a flirt.”

“That so?” He leaned in a little. “Are you showing me both or the side that’s not looking for what I’m looking for?”

“You’re still on that, ain’t you?”

“Damn right, I’m tryna figure out how you think you can tell me what I’m looking for.”

“I’m woman enough to say I’ll probably eat those words later. But it won’t be tonight.”

The night flipped without warning because this thing she was doing with him was igniting something in him.

The mood thickened fast, the way heat rolls in before a storm.

The air inside the lounge was heavier now, syrupy with smoke, laughter, and the low, sticky hum of old R she was sprawled out, comfortable, body speaking its own language.

And Giovanni stayed close but cool, lounging in the cut with a slow sip of brown liquor, eyes glued to her.

He was already making space for her in his world.

He let her breathe, but he was clocking everything.

Every smirk. Every stretch. Every easy roll of her wrist when she talked.

Every flash of thigh when she adjusted her seat. That laugh?

Trouble. And charming as hell.

Paige had that rare pull. Funny. Fine. Miss Congeniality in a body that reminded him of his favorite car, curves in all the right places, built with care, made to be driven but never mishandled. She was the kind of woman a man like him would go too far for.

He knew better. He’d been there. Had his heart handed back to him in pieces by someone who mistook his devotion for desperation.

But it was already too late to act like he didn’t see it. She could easily become his next masterpiece. He'd take care of her. Wax her down. Keep her gleaming. Never let her lose her shine. Yeah… Paige Bishop was more than pressure.

She was his white whale.

A diamond in the rough.

A rose through concrete.

Not for everybody.

Not for casual hands.

And definitely not for the weak.

Good thing he didn’t have a weak bone in his body.

Paige caught him mid-glance, her lip curling up into a smirk. She knew he was watching; she couldn't miss his gaze, couldn't miss the heaviness of him, hanging on to every word she uttered.

“You always stare at women like that?” she asked, sucking on an ice cube, baiting the last nigga she wanted to bait. Giovanni didn’t even blink, didn’t fake any shame. He lifted his glass, took a sip without breaking eye contact, and let his smile creep out.

“Tell me what you want...”

The first few notes hit, and Paige nearly lost her mind.

“Oh shit, Vanni! That’s my jam!” She threw her arms out like she was performing at the Apollo.

“Look at you,” he said, amused. “Ain’t even ashamed with yo non singing ass.”

Paige didn’t even hear him. She was too far gone, singing along loud and proud, off-key but so damn full of heart.

“Is it moneyyy, is it cars, is it things!”

She belted it out, hips swinging side to side in a sloppy two-step.

She spun around, pointing at Giovanni like she was accusing him of something. “Tell me what you want!”

He shook his head, laughing.

“Shorty, you wild.”

The look on his face told the story. He was ready to risk it all over a five-foot-something bombshell singing old school Dru Hill in his shop at damn near midnight.

“Vanni, I wanna slow dance.” She slurred a little, the words rolling off her tongue. “Let’s slow dance.”

She felt good. Not drunk enough to forget. Only drunk enough to remember exactly what she wanted and give herself permission to have it without apology.

Giovanni set his drink down with a soft clink against the table and stood. Paige watched him move with his broad shoulders back and smoldering eyes.

Little did she know Giovanni was willing to do whatever she wanted to ensure she had an unforgettable night. He extended his hand, and she giggled, shocked that he was going along with her drunken request.

“Really?”

“Bring yo ass to me,” he commanded. Her mouth formed an O, at his command as she batted her eyelashes. She slipped her fingers into his and allowed Giovanni to pull her closer, his fingers closing around hers.

Paige did as he told her a little unsteady from the drinks and the heat pooling in her belly, but she didn’t falter. She stood toe-to-toe with him, close enough to smell him again. She inhaled the cedar and saffron and closed her eyes.

The song shifted to Forever Mine by The O’Jays.

Giovanni slid one hand around her waist, guiding her other to his shoulder.

Then he drew her in, closer than necessary, closer than she’d been held in a long, long time.

Paige didn’t resist. She went with it, melting into him releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She tried to hide by biting her lip, but he felt it. He felt the way she surrendered to him.

Giovanni’s hand flexed at her lower back, keeping her pressed to him, every breath syncing with the rise of his chest. He wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. He liked her in his arms.

He moved first, a slow, lazy rock from side to side, nothing technical; he wasn’t a dancer. But he was a real nigga slow dancing with a woman he wanted to unravel, piece by piece, if she let him.

Paige moved with him, instinctively falling into his rhythm.

Her bare thighs skimmed the rough denim of his cargo shorts with every step.

Her pulse pounded, louder than the bass line, beating wild inside her chest. Space didn’t exist anymore.

It was a concept, a mere construct. If this was a mistake, it was the kind she didn’t want to stop making.

“You smell like the sweetest taboo,” he murmured at her ear, voice rough enough to curl her toes. His hand gripped her waist, catching her as her knees started to give in a little.

Paige lifted her chin, eyes locking with his in the dim light. The music kept playing, but they weren’t dancing anymore, they were standing in the middle of the room, suspended by gravity.

Then Giovanni’s hand moved. They left her waist and traced her side slowly.

Rough fingertips dragging over her ribs and the curve of her collarbone, making her hiss.

He cupped her face, brushing the base of her neck, eyes meeting hers.

His teeth ground together, throat working around a hard swallow.

His stare had shifted to a darker and deeper stare that both scared her and turned her on.

When Paige stepped back, she gave him the full view, thick thighs, soft waist, the curve of her back perfect enough to make a grown man forget his own name, their eyes clashed into each other like a head collision. Within seconds the air between them combusted.

She could feel herself tipping, leaning, surrendering.

“What’s on your mind, P? You good?”

“I didn’t come here for this.” Her voice dropped as she shook her head.

He smiled; he could see straight through her. “I’m callin’ bullshit,” Giovanni said. “You came for somethin’. You gon’ leave with somethin’. If you want it.”

He didn’t let go. His grip tightened, grounding her in the kind of presence that left no room for doubt. No tremors, no nerves. Giovanni was clear on his mission.

“Is that what you want?”

Paige nodded, slow but sure. Her hands moved first, reaching for him before her pride could protest.

She wanted him. She wanted this. Whatever he wanted, she would give.

“Then let me take care of you tonight,” Giovanni said lips near her ear. It was his vow to her, she was in good hands.

Before she could second-guess herself, he lifted her gently by the hips and sat her down on the pool table like she was a feather.

Paige leaned back on her hands, body arching slightly as she watched him. Her chest was heaving, lips parted, mind racing with every breath she took. Every second she waited for what would happen next.

Giovanni grabbed the Hennessy bottle from the table beside her, tipping it slowly.

Paige tilted her head back, mouth open, laughing as he poured a slow stream of the dark liquor past her lips. Some of it spilled, trailing a thin line down her chin and throat to the valley between her breasts.

Before she could wipe it away, Giovanni was there.

“Nah, I got it,” he muttered, hand firm on her waist, guiding her in with slight pressure. His thick tongue chased the drops, hunger, and reverence all tangled together in one excruciating drag.

Paige gasped, her hips rocking helplessly against the pool table. Giovanni didn’t rush. He savored her, tasting, breathing her in slowly.

Paige’s eyes fluttered shut. Her legs opened wider, a silent invitation.

Giovanni stood back before pulling her roughly by the neck to kiss her lips. The taste of the alcohol, a hint of the weed, danced on her tongue. His massive hands fit around her neck, and she almost caught her first orgasm.