Chapter 12 #2
“Here.” He set his mug to the side and offered out his hands. She had on long bright yoga pants and fuzzy socks.
“You don’t have to.” She looked embarrassed.
“Marcy had something similar, but it was worse when she was pregnant with Annabelle. Please?” he asked, feeling like an absolute fucking fool for begging his nanny to let him massage her calves.
“You know what? Normally, I would say no, but it hurts like a motherfucker. So, do your worst.” She placed her legs in his lap as she twisted around, curling up against the couch with his mug in her hands.
She looked like she belonged there, cuddled into the old flannel couch, wearing his shirt and drinking from his favorite mugs.
His hands traced her shapely calves. This is a bad idea, but I’m gonna do it anyway. “Right here?” he said, feeling a knot in the base of her calf.
“Oof,” she said, her eyes closing, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Yep.”
His fingers dug gently in, and she bit back a moan as he kneaded into the knot.
She spoke through pursed lips, her eyes still closed. “Please, just ignore any sound I might make. I apologize in advance.”
He really hoped she’d make as many sounds as she could. He chuckled, not knowing how to say the truth of it without making her feel uncomfortable.
“So?” she said as he glided up the other calf, taking her muscular leg in his hands and tracing the curve of it. “You have a lot to do?”
“Hmm.” He shook his head to remember what they’d been talking about. “No more than anybody else, I’m sure. But, it’s fine, I’ll figure it out. I’m almost done with Pearl’s surprise gift thing.”
He kneaded into her calf and glanced up, seeing her face tucked against the couch, a peaceful look on her face.
“You asleep?” he said gently, half hoping she was so he could tuck her in, put a blanket over her and have her sleep here where he could take care of her.
She cuddled into the couch. “Just resting my eyes. Just keep talking.” She waved an elegant hand at him to continue.
“I need to finalize the floor plan where we’ll move. The new place will be by the credit union.”
She’d tucked his shirt around her tighter.
“You can turn the thermostat up when you’re here, you know,” he said.
“Hm?” That caught her attention, and she lifted her head up in confusion. Her pretty hair had gotten mussed as she cuddled into the couch.
She looked cozy. In a different lifetime, in a different circumstance, he would have picked her up, taken her upstairs, tossed her in his bed, tucked her in under weighted blankets, and in the morning, had his way with her.
He nodded to her. “You were cold?”
She looked even more confused. “Um. Not particularly.”
“I assume that’s why you have my shirt on?”
She looked down at the oversized flannel shirt and smacked herself in the face.
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I was cold. I’m so sorry.” She started to take it off.
“No, no. Keep it.” He kneaded another knot on her calf, and she moaned, low and needy.
She slapped a hand over her mouth in surprise.
“Looks good on you,” he said, his voice rough.
He was keeping a thin leash on his lust right now, but seeing her in his shirt, moaning like that underneath his fingers?
His cock was throbbing. He couldn’t take much more of this.
Even as a kid, he hadn’t liked to play with fire, so he reached for his mug with both hands.
“I should probably go,” she said, leaning her head against the couch and not moving. “I have to be back in”—she peered at the clock—“seven and a half hours?”
She slowly tucked her legs back underneath her, and he hunched over to hide his hard dick. Think about this ginger tea, and how it is so very unsexy.
“You feel okay, though?” he said, his treacherous eyes still gobbling up the beauty of her.
She sighed, giving him a smile. “Yeah. Just needed to cry, I think. Thanks for, you know, not weirding out? Anytime I’d cry, my brother would freak out. He’d freeze like a deer in headlights.”
Luca laughed. “Pretty much the only constant in my life has been women who feel very comfortable wearing their emotions on their sleeves. I don’t scare that easy.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the curve of her lips.
He gulped down the rest of his tea, trying to think of other things as she stood.
Her scent had rubbed into his shirt, and even though she was already across the room, it felt like she was right next to him.
“I think I’m gonna just leave a bunch of stuff here, since I’ll be back in the morning,” she said, gathering her things and tossing on sandals.
Wouldn’t it be nice if she moved in?
He liked seeing her things mixed with his.
“Leave whatever you like,” he said, trying to find a middle ground of what he wanted and what wouldn’t make it sound like he’d lost his mind.
“I hope your day is better tomorrow,” she said with a bright smile, all her sobs and overwhelm now completely gone.
He opened the back door for her as she walked out, not meeting her gaze. “You too.”
She walked down his bright back porch steps and crossed through their yards to her dark back door.
It was even darker than her front door had been. Why didn’t Georgia check her lightbulbs, geez.
He clicked on a small flashlight he kept on his keychain, spotlighting her way. . “We have possums and raccoons here.”
“I’m bigger,” she yelled, smiling.
“Barely,” he mumbled. “Need help with this light too? ” he called.
“I’ll get it tomorrow,” she called back, putting her keys in the back door.
He made a mental note to change this one too.
As he walked through the house turning off lights, her fall, cinnamon nutmeg scent on his shirt followed him.
Reminded him of what he could have if he made a better living and they were in a different lifetime.
One where she wanted to stay in her hometown, where he could take risks.
Cinnamon warmth swirling around him like her laugh as he moved.
Surrounding him like her arms had.
Invading his good sense until having her was all he could think about.
Goddamnit.
He yanked off his shirt, and tossed it on the ground. His chest heaved up and down, unable to take the torture anymore.
Need to catch my breath without her scent all around me.
He needed to get a handle on this. They had three more months to go. He needed some self-restraint. Because he would not let himself or AB get more attached than they already were.
He stared at the dark t-shirt on the living room floor as he walked toward the staircase.
His chest rose and fell with the memory of her underneath his hands, the soft moans, the press of her into his palms as he held her. Those fucking calves for Christ's sake. He’d worship any square inch of skin on her body that she’d let him.
Rolling his lips together, he fought the urge to let his obsession deepen, root further into every nerve ending.
But with a damning disappointment in himself, he stalked to grab the shirt from the floor and inhaled it like a lifeline as he ran up the steps to his bedroom.