Giovanni
The weight of the girl on my chest felt like nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Gwen was beautiful by anyone’s standards—blonde, perfectly sculpted, and entirely naked as she straddled my lap, trying desperately to coax some semblance of life out of me. Her fingers trailed down my torso, her lips pressing open kisses against my jawline, whispering sweet, meaningless praise into my skin.
Usually, this was effortless. Bedding women had always been an easy, mindless distraction to clear the scent of blood and gunpowder from my mind.
I'm not just tough on the street but also on bed.
But right now? My heart wasn't in it. My d**k wasn't in it.
Nothing.
Ever since yesterday—ever since I trapped her against that marble sink and tore that dress down her bare shoulders—my body
