Page 390 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Gio

"Excuse me?" I frown up at him. "Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m not in the mood to fuck."

"There won’t be any fucking involved."

"Then why do you want me to—"

"I thought you said you trust me?"

I lock my fingers together and begin to play with the ring on my left hand, then realize what I’m doing and stop.

I cannot get used to this piece of jewelry.

I’ll have to return it to him, at some point.

Soon, by the looks of it. His grandmother will have the procedure, and Dennis will give up any hope he harbors of getting together with me.

The thought doesn’t upset me as much as I thought it would.

Perhaps, I'm getting over what he did to me?

No doubt, all this interaction with Rick is helping me move on, as well.

"Do you, Goldie?" He tilts his head. "Do you trust me?"

I’m attracted to him, a lot. I’m not sure, yet, if I like him.

But trusting him? Yeah, my instinct says he’s not like Dennis.

He’s not using me as arm candy. He’s not going to take advantage of me—not unless I ask him to—and he’s not going to do anything I don’t want.

I do trust him. More than I ever did Dennis.

More than I do my own mother, with whom I’ve never had a great relationship.

I’ve always trusted myself, always held myself up to high standards.

I’ve always relied on myself to get things done, to overcome challenges.

And I should think of him as one, too, only, I know there’s more to it than that.

This connection I’ve felt to him since the first time I saw him signals to me I can trust him.

When I nod, he releases a breath. His shoulders relax. He nods toward the bed. "Lay down, Goldie."

I lower myself back onto the bed and, instantly, feel even more at a disadvantage. I open my mouth to tell him this is a mistake, but he beats me to it.

He jerks his chin. "I’ll be back."

To my surprise, he spins around and heads out of the room.

My stomach spasms again, I grimace. I should get up and get myself a painkiller.

In fact, a hot water bottle would be great, too.

Except, I don’t have one. In my hurry to leave L.A.

, I left so much of my stuff behind, and I haven’t had the time to buy a new one.

Also, more of that massage which started this entire episode with Rick.

I try to breathe through the next eddy of pain. Damn, why do periods have to be so painful? I curl into a ball trying to lessen the pain, not that it helps. I squeeze my eyes and breathe through the next wave. I must have drifted off, for the next thing I know, I hear his voice saying, "Take this."

I open my eyes and peek up to find he’s holding out his hand with what looks like painkillers and a glass of water. Huh? I sit up, take it from him, then down two tablets with water. He places the glass on the nightstand, along with a mug of steaming liquid and a tiny bottle of essential oil.

"What’s all this?"

"Yoda’s big on essential oils and herbal teas, so—" He shrugs.

"So, you went over and asked him for some of it? What did you tell him?"

"That you have your period."

"You told him I have my period?" I cry.

"Of course not." His lips quirk. "He wasn’t in his room, so I helped myself to his stash."

I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head. "He won’t miss it. Now, drink your tea."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I’d do the same thing if one of my teammates was suffering from an injury."

"Hmm."

"You don’t believe me?"

No, I don’t. "It doesn’t matter." I reach for the cup of tea and blow on it. The scent of lavender fills my senses, and already, I can feel my body relax further. I take a couple of sips, then place the mug back on the side table.

"Lay back now and pull up your kimono."

"Why?"

"Only so I can massage this into your stomach.”

"You don’t need to do that."

He glares at me. "Lay. Back. Goldie." He infuses enough authority into his voice, goosebumps pepper my skin. A heavy pulse flares to life between my legs. I comply, and his gaze flickers with an emotion I can only classify as satisfaction.

"Good girl," he says in that low, hard voice, and my scalp tingles. My toes curl. A flush of pleasure tugs at my lower belly and overrides the discomfort there. My entire body feels heavy. My limbs sink into the mattress. I manage to grip the edge of my kimono and pull it up to below my breasts. I’m baring my panties, but he’s already seen me without them so it shouldn’t matter that he’s seeing me in such a state of undress.

Besides, I’m in too much pain and that massage sounds heavenly.

He pours some of the lavender oil into his palm and rubs his hands together.

A floral and woodsy scent fills the room.

He swipes his palm gently across my lower belly, and the hairs on my forearms stand on end.

His palm is big and warm and engulfs my stomach.

I glance down to where the contrast of his dark skin with my much paler skin sends a primal thrill zipping up my spine.

My thighs clench. I manage to not squeeze my legs together, manage to hold myself still as he rubs circles over my stomach.

He must sense the tension radiating off of me for he murmurs, "Relax, I’ve got you. "

That’s what I’m afraid of.

"Close your eyes and focus on the movement of my hands on your body."

The flush of pleasure between my legs turns into a heavy pulse.

This time, I can’t stop myself from squeezing them together.

A sharp inhale from him tells me he’s noticed my reaction.

However, he doesn’t stop those circular motions over my middle.

The comfort of his touch seeps into my blood and vibrates out to my extremities.

My muscles relax, one by one. I close my eyes.

It’s as if it’s a signal, for he increases the circumference of his movements, and each sweep brings him closer and closer to my breasts.

He slips his fingers under the side of my waist then back up, and again, and when he brushes the curve of my breasts, a delicious sensation vibrates out from his touch. A sigh ripples up my chest.

"Better?" He clears his throat.

Without opening my eyes, I nod. On the next sweep, he slides his fingers under the kimono and cups my breasts.

That melting sensation deepens and encompasses my chest. My nipples tighten, but not in a painful manner.

He continues to caress my body and every part of me seems to be melting.

My brain cells dissolve, and my arms and legs feel heavy.

Even my eyelids seem to be weighed down.

I’m a puddle of need reflecting back his image.

I’m sinking, sinking into this oblivious space where I can no longer feel pain.

This...is better than any painkiller, better than trying to drown my pain with alcohol, which I’m afraid I tried to do in the past, when the cramps became too much for me to bear.

It’s not healthy, but I’d often reach a point where I was unable to cope with my agony.

Normally, it’d be me suffering alone in the house while Dennis was off at some event or another.

His need to be seen by the right people and add to his image meant he was out of the house most nights, including those when I had my period.

I never mentioned to him how much having my periods caused me distress.

It's not as if he was interested in my comfort, anyway. Unlike Rick.

His firm yet gentle touch fills my pores, my cells, even permeates my extremities. I fall back further into myself, that thick quagmire of sleep drawing me in. I’m so loosened up that when he touches the kimono bunched around my chest, and asks, "Can I take this off?", I jerk my chin.

He turns me on my side. I worry about the oil staining the sheet, and I try to say that aloud, but my words are slurred.

Still, he understands me for he murmurs, "Don’t worry about it.

” Then he unties the kimono and slides it down my shoulder.

He tugs it off, before coaxing me onto my back and pulling the silken fabric down my other arm.

I sigh. That feels good. My body unwinds further, and when he circles my nipples, a whimper of satisfaction spills from my lips.