Chapter 16 Luca
Luca
Gin-based cocktails lead to tequila shots.
The jazz band morphs into reggaeton and EDM.
Flickering Edison bulbs become flashing strobe lights.
Carla and I move through worlds, through times, through the past and the present, soaking up every second.
And for this handful of hours, I’m a younger, more carefree, caught-up-in-the-moment version of myself.
I’m the guy who rides a motorcycle and doesn’t need to hide it.
The man before Mamma passed. Unburdened from constant responsibilities.
Free from the compounded emotional weight of feeling too many things, too deeply, for too many years.
I twirl Carla on the dance floor and bring her back to my waiting arms, holding her close as we dance bachata. And dio mio, Carla takes my breath away.
The sidekick of my adolescence is still spunky and sassy, but there’s a softness to her edges now that calls to me. That makes me want to lose myself so deeply inside her that when I emerge, a part of her is imprinted on me for life.
It’s a scary thought. It’s an even more terrifying feeling. I could lose myself in her…and a part of me wants to. Craves it. Desires her with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. Not even with Chiara.
We give ourselves up to the music and the night until the early morning hours. When we step out of the nightclub, the sun is rising. The city streets are mostly quiet, save for the early risers heading to work or the gym.
After hours of dancing, my buzz has mostly disappeared.
“I need water, churros con chocolate, and a pillow,” Carla announces.
Grinning, I wrap my arm around her waist. “Same.”
We stop at a morning bakery, ordering churros and chocolate sauce and several bottles of water before wandering into Parque Central. Taking a seat at one of the picnic tables, we munch on our churros as the sky lightens in sweeps of pink and peach around us.
“I had fun last night,” Carla says, glancing at me shyly. I like that I still have that effect on her, that shy sweetness she rarely shows but has always given me.
In fact, being with Carla has stirred old memories to the surface. The times I would stay at her family’s home for holidays, or visit their beach house in the summer, and we would stay up late talking, playing video games, or goofing off. I’ve always been drawn to her energy, her company.
“It was more than fun,” I admit. “It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a really long time.”
Carla’s eyebrows lift. “Seriously?”
I nod.
She grins and takes a big bite of her churro.
We finish our breakfast and I walk her back to her flat. When we approach the light blue building, Carla glances at me over her shoulder. “Are you coming up?”
I freeze, hesitating. I don’t want her to do anything she’ll regret, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to slide into bed with her. “Is that an invitation?”
“An open one.”
Gesú. Not wanting to waste another opportunity to be with her, I step forward. “Then I’m coming up.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
We enter the building, the elevator, and finally, her flat. When she closes the door and flips the lock, her eyes find mine.
Curious, questioning…hopeful.
I suck in a breath. It’s nearing six a.m. and my second wind crashes into me at the promise Carla is hinting at.
The air between us tightens, anticipation overshadowing every other emotion.
I toe off my shoes and reach for her, curling my fingers under the hem of her shirt.
The backs of my fingers brush the smooth skin of her abdomen and I can’t wait to track my hands over every inch of her body.
“Are you drunk?” I ask, needing to make sure this is what she wants.
That she won’t regret it when she wakes up this afternoon.
“Only on you.”
“I’m serious, Carla. I don’t want you to regret this.”
“I’m not drunk,” she says, shuffling forward. “And I would never regret anything with you, Luca.”
My nostrils flare as I suck in another lungful of air and try to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. Carla winds her arms over my shoulders, lacing her fingers behind my neck. “Are you drunk?”
“Not even close.”
She smiles, her eyes moving from my eyes to my mouth. “Good.” Then, she pushes up onto her toes and kisses me. It’s a heady kiss, pulsing with the pent-up and simmering emotions of the night.
I spin her, backing her up until she’s pinned between my hips and the door to her flat. We kiss deeply, slowly, passionately, as if it isn’t daybreak and endless hours stretch before us.
I guess they do.
I pull her silky blouse over her head and she unfastens the button at the side of her mini skirt, letting it slide down her legs. She steps out of it, still wearing her sandals and lacy black undergarments—a thong I want to snap off her and a strapless bra.
“Gesú,” I mutter. Jesus, help me. I drag my hand up the center of her breasts, noting the way her pupils dilate. Her lips part and her eyes follow the trail of my fingers.
Then, her hands are on the button of my shorts. “Take your shirt off,” she demands and I acquiesce, pulling it off in one tug.
She kicks off her platform sandals and I grin at how much shorter she is without them, the top of her head grazing my chin.
“Come here, campionessa,” I mutter, lifting her easily.
She laughs and winds her legs around my hips as I carry her into her bedroom.
My eyes dart around the space quickly, noting the light-yellow bedspread, the fluffy, white carpet with lemons splashed across it, and the clean, white furniture.
She has a few framed photographs, a jewelry box, and a stack of paperbacks, but other than that, her room is cleaner, more uncluttered, than I expected. “I like your space.”
“Don’t get distracted, DiBlanco.”
I lay her down in the center of her bed and hover over her. She gazes up at me, wide-eyed, with her hair fanning around her head. “Never,” I promise, dropping my mouth to hers and sipping the sweetness she offers.
Her legs tug me closer, until I fall over her, careful to keep my weight from pressing her into the mattress.
Her arms wind around my back, her hands flattening against my shoulder blades.
I deepen our kiss, one hand curling around the base of her throat and tipping her chin to give me more access.
I want her eyes, her expressions, her truth. Fuck, I want everything.
A small, crooked smile twists her lips. Playful, inviting, tempting as well.
“What am I going to do with you?”
She works a swallow and my hand flexes at the base of her throat. “Find out, DiBlanco.”
I huff out a laugh, drop my mouth to hers, and take everything she offers.
Our kiss has a bite to it and I relish it. Crave her. Weeks of pretending she doesn’t affect me, nights having to relieve myself in a cold fucking shower, dissipate in an instant.
Carla digs her heels into my lower back as she arches into me.
“Fuck.” I drag my mouth from hers to trail kisses along her jawline, down the column of her neck. I bite the top of one full breast before flicking my tongue over the nip.
She moans, her hand cupping the back of my head.
“Let me take this off,” I say, leaning back to pull her halfway up so I can unhook her bra. As soon as the lacy material falls away, her breasts, high and round and a perfect handful, fall forward.
I stare at them for a full heartbeat before I lay Carla back down, slower this time, and bend to take one dusty pink nipple in my mouth. Even her tits are sweet. This girl is going to fucking end me.
I lavish her breasts with all the attention they deserve, taking my time to taste and lick and nip.
My hands grip the sides of her waist as I move lower and I’m amazed at the muscles that ripple under her skin.
I shouldn’t be, given her training schedule, but when Carla contorts her body, it’s a work of art.
“Wait, what—” she laughs, staring at me in wonder as I settle myself between the apex of her thighs.
“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want me to,” I tease, dragging my fingers over the seam of her thong.
She shudders from the contact and I imagine how wet she is for my fingers, my mouth, my cock. I make another pass, careful to keep my touch over the lace, as I wait for her to reply.
“No, I do,” she confirms. But then, she hesitates.
I roll my lips together and lean back, patiently waiting. “What is it?”
Her eyes find mine, almost bewildered. “I’m not good at this part,” she whispers.
“What part? You’re perfect at everything.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Not this, with you…”
I slide my hand to the top of her thigh so she can gather her thoughts without the distraction of my ministrations. “You can tell me anything.”
“That’s just it. I know that. I…” Carla shakes her head and takes a centering breath.
“Sex is just sex to me. It’s hot and it’s good and it’s fun.
But I rarely feel as much for my partner as I feel for you.
” The words are a hushed confession. Then, she chuckles.
“I’m doing this all wrong. I’m ruining the moment. ”
“You couldn’t ruin the moment if you tried, cucciola. Keep talking.” I want all her words. I want to understand her, make sure she wants this, with me, more than anything. Because if I claim Carla García, I won’t fucking give her up.
“I’ve liked you for a long time, Luca,” she continues, her eyes holding mine. “And doing this with you, it’s more than just sex. The emotions…they’re catching me off guard. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” I promise. “It makes a hell of a lot of sense. Doing this with you means something to me too. Something big. And if we do this, I’m not going to just walk away in the morning.”
“Promise?” she asks, her voice cracking.
“Te lo prometto.”
Biting her bottom lip, she nods.
“You sure?” I check.
“Yes.”
“Then lie back and let me make this good for you.”
She drops back onto the mattress. “Like fireworks good?” she teases, injecting levity in her voice.
I snicker and snap her thong at her hip, brushing the fabric away. “Like Fallas good, cucciola.” Then, I drop my mouth to her sweet pussy and make Carla García scream my fucking name.
Over and over and over again.