Chapter 32
Luna
“Didn’t your mom teach you it’s rude to stare at people while they eat?” I tease as I finish the last spoonful of my soup, aware of his eyes on me the whole time.
I expect him to give me one of his half smiles, but something shifts in his expression. The warmth from earlier leaves his eyes for a second, and I can see the pain behind them.
Shit.
Before I can say anything else, he gently grabs the bowl from my hand and brings it to the kitchen.
By the time he comes back, his face is unreadable again.
“Thank you for the soup.” I smile at him. “Best I’ve ever had. It just earned you another star.” I nudge him gently.
That gets me a small smile. “Still not the full five?”
“Not yet. But you’re close.” I stretch out on the couch. “What’s next?”
“Game. Did you pick one?”
“Chess.” I nod toward the chessboard on the coffee table that I found in the closet. “We get to ask one question per move.”
He lifts an eyebrow as he grabs the chessboard and we move from the couch to the carpet on the floor, settling it between us.
“I go first.” I fold my legs under me.
He smirks but doesn’t argue.
I reach for my pawn and move it forward. “First question. What’s your favorite childhood memory?”
He stares at the board for a few seconds. “When my mum taught me how to skate,” he says before moving his piece. His biceps flex with the motion, making it really hard to focus. His tattoos are distracting.
“Why figure skating?” he asks, like he didn’t destroy my ability to form a sentence right now.
I shrug, pretending to think when I already know the answer. “Because it’s the only place I ever felt free and in control at the same time.”
He gives me a look that makes my whole body vibrate.
I slide my queen forward and take his bishop. “Oops,” I say, not sorry at all.
His eyes lift to meet mine across the board with the slightest smile he’s trying not to show.
“Favorite color?”
“Storm gray.” He narrows his eyes at the board, brows drawn together in concentration. Watching him think shouldn’t make me this hot and bothered.
I must be ovulating. That would explain why I’m so wet right now. He leans forward again, reaching across the board with that annoyingly perfect arm, veins flexing as he moves his rook.
I don’t even hear what he says, because I’m too focused on his arms.
“Luna?”
“Hmm?” I blink.
“I asked you a question.”
“What was the question?”
“Favorite season?” He eyes me suspiciously.
“You didn’t ask me what my favorite color is.”
“Didn’t have to. I already know it’s blue.”
I open my mouth, then close it. Because he’s right. “Winter. Not just for skating. I like how still everything is, and how sharp the air is. You can’t fake it through the winter, there’s no room for pretending.”
He smiles like he’s tucking the answers away.
I study the board, trying to decide my next move, but it’s hard to focus when his eyes haven’t left my face. “You’re not even paying attention.”
“I’m paying attention, just not to the board.” His gaze drags down to where my shirt keeps sliding up my thighs.
I move my rook and sit back, trying not to melt under his stare. “What scares you the most?”
He doesn’t answer right away, like he’s trying to decide how much to say. “You,” he says, looking straight into my eyes.
“Me?” I blink.
“Yes, you. The reason I keep my walls up and don’t let people in?
It’s not because I don’t care. It’s the opposite.
” He exhales like it hurts. “It’s because when I let someone in…
they get all of me. I don’t do halfway. They get my focus, my loyalty, my fucking soul.
And that kind of feeling? It’s all-consuming and burns through everything else. ” He looks down at his clasped hands.
“I’ve learned to shut people out because it’s safer this way, but not with you.
” His eyes meet mine again. “You showed up like a storm and blew through every fucking wall I built. You’re everywhere.
In my head. My chest. Under my skin. I feel you in ways I can’t even explain.
” He laughs like he can’t believe he’s saying all this out loud. “That’s why you scare me, Luna.”
I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing. What do I even say to that when he looks at me like this? I don’t think and just move until I’m on his lap. Legs folding over his thighs as I straddle him.
I like this.
Being close to him, sitting on his lap, touching him. My body trusts him, and it calms the restless part of me.
“You scare me, too.” I trace my finger across his chest without looking at him.
“I’ve never let myself want this, or let myself feel like this, because it’s easier not to want anything,” I continue before I lose my nerves.
“If you don’t want anything, you can’t be disappointed, right?
” I laugh to break the tension. “If you don’t feel, no one can hurt you. ”
His finger brushes my cheek as he tilts my chin up to look at him, like he needs to see me like this.
“No one really cared before, except for my sister Rylee, but she still left.”
He watches me like he sees me.
“Then you showed up and pissed me off and made me feel things I didn’t ask for. And I hated you for it.” My mouth forms a small pout before I can stop it. “Still kinda do.”
His lips twitch into a smile, like he sees straight through me and likes what he finds anyway. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”
I look at him, and something about the way he’s staring at me feels different, making it hard to maintain eye contact. So, I twist sideways, just enough to reach for the board behind us. I grab my bishop and slide it forward, knocking out his knight.
“Checkmate,” I say innocently.
He laughs like he can’t believe I just did that. “God, what am I gonna do with you?” He flips me onto my back. Chess pieces scatter in all directions, but neither of us care.
“That was a dirty move.” He hovers over me, and I’m laughing so hard.
“Don’t be a sore loser.”
“You’re trouble,” he growls, dipping his head to brush his nose along my jaw. “And I’m so”—he kisses the corner of my mouth—“so”—the edge of my throat—“fucked.”
Then his lips find mine as he kisses me like he’s memorizing the shape of my mouth. My pulse races, and my body aches under his.
“Wanna play another game?” I grin against his lips.
He pulls back just enough to look at me suspiciously. “What kind of game?”
“Hide and seek,” I say sweetly.
“You want to play hide and seek? Right now?”
I nod, trying to keep my face innocent, even though my heart’s still racing from his kiss.
“What are the rules?” His eyes are darker now, like he already knows I’m up to something.
“If you find me…” I drag my finger lightly down his bare chest. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
His whole body tenses above mine.
“Fuck, Lunetta.” He doesn’t move or even breathe for a second as he stares at me. “Why would I let you go when I already have you where I want you?”
I tilt my head, giving him my most innocent eyes, fingertips dragging down his chest. “Please.” I add a little pout at the end. “I’ve never played it before.”
“Jesus, Luna.” A sound comes out of his chest that’s half growl and half laugh.
I know exactly what his weak point is now, and I plan to use it.
He exhales hard and presses his forehead to mine. “Sixty seconds, little storm. Run before I change my mind.” He pulls back just enough to give me room.
I slide out from under him and run.
I should be panicking, but all I can think about is the look in his eyes before he told me to run, like he wanted to devour me but was holding back for now.
Standing in the hallway, I scan my options. Master bedroom? Too obvious. Bathroom? No lock. The basement?
Perfect.
I take the stairs two at a time, careful not to make too much noise. My body’s aching from the idea of him chasing me, and I’m so wet—it’s dripping down my thighs.
The basement is dark, cold, and a little creepy. I walk past the rink toward the storage closet and open the door.
It’s cluttered with old training gear. I close the door behind me and crouch between an old shoulder pad and a helmet.
Waiting.
Needing.
My pussy throbs, and I clench my thighs together. I press my fingers to my lips to keep myself from moaning.
What’s he gonna do when he finds me like this? When he sees how wet I already am. How much I want this.
I’ve made myself come more times than I can count. But I’ve never craved someone else like this. Never wanted to be touched like this—stretched, filled, ruined.
The thought of Zayden finding me, dragging me out of hiding, and doing whatever he wants to me…
Fuck, I’m making a mess on the floor.
And when he finally stretches me, when he’s finally inside me for the first time…will it hurt?
God, maybe.
But maybe I’ll like that it hurts. Maybe I want to feel it—that pressure, that fullness, that ache.
Come find me, baby.