GIO (Interracial Rockstar Romance) - Page 26

“Yes, you ran into a tree.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’m more pissed at the tree.” I ran my fingers through her curls. “Next time you come, you will take my jet.”

Her lips quivered as she closed her eyes. “Next time, I’ll take my own jet.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Simone. Oh, Simone.

Chapter 7

Simone

Music is

the emotional life of most people.

~Leonard Cohen

The next day, I woke up warm and comfortable.

It took me a few minutes to remember where I was, but it all hit me. Flashes of the accident ran through my mind. The warm bath came next. Finally, I slightly recalled a doctor checking my pulse and whispering something to other people standing around me.

I opened my eyes and took in the room. A fireplace sat on my side. The bed had been pushed closer to it but maintained five feet between us. On the left, Gio slept in a recliner.

He watched over me?

His black hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him on tv. Usually, it was short on both sides like one of those fashion mohawks hot guys wore. Now, his soft wavy hair lay past his shoulders and curled a little at the tips. His huge body took up the whole chair. While he’d been muscular before, executing dance steps on music videos and flipping around like a gymnast at concerts, he now had bulk to his frame like he had a serious morning weight routine. He was so hulky, there was no way he’d had a comfortable rest in the tiny chair.

Light snores rose from his heavy chest. The shirt tightened around his pecs with each exhale. A few memories came back to me of him whispering into my ears and telling me it would be all right. I remembered slipping in and out of sleep as he softly sang to me and brushed my hair.

No way. That wasn’t a dream? No. It had to be a dream. But...maybe it wasn’t.

It was sweet and such a shock. He had people who could’ve done it for him. Surely, he wasn’t the type of guy who had to sleep in a chair. He probably had a massive bed and spacious room.

I tried to move my hands, but they were stuck in the cocoon of furry blankets dyed indigo and peacock. It took me a good minute to wiggle my arms, and it was in that moment I realized I was naked.

Oh my God. Did he see me naked?

He must have. I shook away my embarrassment. It was what it was.

I bet I’m not the first or last woman he’ll see naked. I’m just happy he saved me.

Sitting up, I scanned the space—lush, aqua carpet that made the floor look like a Caribbean ocean, sky blue walls, and a blueberry comforter. My bed stretched out for a king. At least twenty silk teal pillows lay behind me.

Did he know I loved blue?

I dragged myself from the bed and grabbed another furry blanket. It must’ve been mink or chinchilla, so soft and real, and dyed the color of sapphires. Getting up, I wrapped one of the blankets around myself and placed my foot on the floor. My knees gave out when I tried to stand. I crashed to the floor, soft carpet pressed against me.

Big hands came from behind and helped me up. Gio’s deep voice sounded next.

“You’re going to be weak for a few days.”

“Dang it. Thanks. I was trying not to wake you.” I leaned my body into him as he helped me back to bed. “Thanks for watching over me as I slept.”

“The doctor wanted someone to help you around. I was also told to make sure you rest. I could get a private nurse—”

“No, it’s Christmas. That’s not fair to your staff or the nurse. I don’t want to be a bother and you should get some rest.”

“You’re not bothering me.” He grinned. “This is the most excitement the house has had all year. I’ve been rather boring to my staff.”

“I doubt that.”

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” He picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me toward the bathroom.

I widened my eyes. “Oh...no. I was just...I actually don’t know what I was going to do. Walk around.”

“No walking unless you have to.” He turned us around and brought me back to bed.

“Okay. I’ll rest, and you can go back to bed.” I lay down in the huge fortress of fur blankets and silk pillows. “You don’t have to worry. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re my guest. You don’t get to take care of yourself here. Those are the rules.”

I giggled, and my chest hurt. “Really?”

“Really.” Towering over me, he leaned my way and ran his hands over my shoulders, and cupped my face. “That was a bad fall from the bed.”

“It really wasn’t. Your carpet is about two feet of pillowy softness and I’m not made of glass. I can take a good banging.”

Tags: Kenya Wright Romance
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