Chapter 17
The past week had been.... different.
Luca still wasn't the type of husband who kissed my forehead in the morning or pulled me into his arms just because he wanted to. He didn't say sweet things, didn't offer compliments. But he had been coming home early.
Every night.
If he couldn't, he sent a text. Not anything affectionate. Just a blunt 'Won't make it for dinner. Don't wait.' But still, it was something. It was a habit he didn't had before.
And when he did come home, he came to me.
Like a starved man, Luca had spent every night taking me apart, fucking me like he couldn't get enough.
There was no other way to put it. It wasn't slow, sweet lovemaking. It was raw and heated. The kind of thing that left me breathless and aching in the best way. The bed. The shower. The couch. The kitchen. Everywhere.
But in the daylight, everything settled back into place.
Like now.
I traced my finger around the rim of my cup, the warmth seeping into my touch.
Usually, by this hour Luca would be gone. But today, the sound of the shower running down the hall told me he was still home.
A few minutes later, Luca strolled into the kitchen, his usual crisp shirt and pants replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His hair still damp from his shower, curled faintly at the ends.
His gaze found me immediately.
I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the cup. Stupid. Stupid reaction.
Luca's lips tugged into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Good morning."
"Morning" I murmured, forcing my gaze back to my tea.
He stepped farther into the kitchen, moving with the same effortless confidence he always carried, like he owned the very space he walked through. He pulled open a cabinet, taking out a mug before glancing at me again.
"Make me coffee." he said.
It wasn't a request. Of course it wasn't.
I raised my cup. "Would you like to try my tea instead?"
He paused. Just for a second.
Then, without a word he turned stepping toward me. My stomach clenched as he closed the space between us too easily until he stood close enough that I had to tip my chin up to look at him.
And then he reached out, his fingers brushing over mine as I held the cup, then slowly curling around them. He didn't take the cup from me. Instead, he lifted it slowly, guiding both our hands until the rim touched his lips.
The moment stretched.
He didn't drink right away. He simply held my gaze, his mouth resting against the same spot mine had been moments ago. Then, finally he took a slow sip, his fingers still wrapped around mine, his thumb tracing absent circles against my skin.
His eyes stayed on me, watching as he swallowed, his adam's apple shifting with the motion.
Luca lowered the cup but he didn't let go. His fingers remained enclosed around mine.
"Not bad." His voice was casual. But then, as he removed his hands and turned away, he added, "But I still prefer coffee."
Luca moved past me, setting his mug on the counter as he reached for the coffee machine. I should have turned away, focused back on my tea but my eyes stayed glued to him.
He was still here.
It had almost been two months since our wedding and not once had Luca spent a morning at home like this. He was always gone by now, slipping out before the sun came up.
I cleared my throat, pushing past the hesitation. Don't overthink it.
"You don't have to be anywhere today?" I said, keeping my voice neutral as I took another sip of tea.
"Didn't know you were so eager to get rid of me." His voice held that lazy amusement, the kind that always made it hard to tell if he was serious or just toying with me.
I huffed, lowering my cup. "You always leave early. I just assumed you had somewhere to be."
He leaned back against the counter, considering that. "Thought I had take the morning off."
I nodded, returning my focus to my tea, pretending like it didn't matter. Like it didn't affect me in any way. But something about it felt different and in a good way.
Luca set his coffee down, rubbing the back of his neck. "I will be out later but..." He hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing. "We could go somewhere tonight."
I looked up, startled. A strange flutter stirred in my chest.
I blinked. "Somewhere?"
Luca tilted his head slightly. "Dinner."
I stared at him, caught off guard.
"Like a date?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Luca let out a low, quiet breath almost like a laugh.
"Like a meal" he corrected. Then after a beat, "but call it what you want."
"Do I get to pick where we go?" I asked.
Luca shot me a glance, unimpressed. "Don't push your luck, carina."
I scoffed, looking away biting my cheek to hide my smile from him.
?????
I wasn't sure why I was nervous.
It was just a dinner. Just a meal.
That's what Luca had said.
And yet, as I stepped out of our room, smoothing my hands down the front of my dress, my heartbeat was a little faster than usual.
I hadn't gone overboard with desperate efforts to impress him. The dress was simple, elegant, a shade of red. My hair down and makeup subtle. But still, I felt different.
As I approached the living room, the weight of his presence settled over me before I even saw him.
Luca stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone loosely at his side. He was dressed in black shirt and slacks.
His gaze lifted the second I stepped into view. For a moment, he just looked at me. Assessed.
A slow drag of his eyes from the heels I was wearing, up the length of my dress before settling on my face.
"You ready?" He asked.
I met his gaze, resisting the urge to fidget under the weight of it. "I am."
Luca's mouth twitched slightly as if amused by my clipped tone. He pushed his phone into his pocket and stepped closer. The air between seemed to shift.
His fingers lifted to my chin as he angled my face slightly. "Let's go."
?????
The restaurant was elegant, bathed in a soft, warm glow with gentle music playing in the background.
Luca didn't ask for a table. He walked in and within seconds, the host was already leading us toward a secluded table near the back. I wasn't surprised.
I slid into my seat, smoothing my dress as Luca sat across from me.
A waiter appeared almost instantly, but Luca didn't even glance at the menu. He ordered with that quiet authority that left no room for questions, ordering wine, appetizers and mains without consulting me.
I asked as the waiter disappeared. "You always order for people?"
Luca leaned back, eyes flicking over me. "Only when I know what is best."
I traced a finger along the edge of the menu. "You do this often?"
He raised a brow. "Eat?"
I let out a small laugh. "Take women to dinner?"
Something flickered in his eyes, too quick to read. "Would it bother you if I did?"
I held his gaze. "I don't care what you do in your free time, Luca."
The words didn't sounded as convincing as I wanted them.
He let them hang between us. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. "No" he said, voice low. "I don't do this often. Never."
I felt a strange relief at his answer.
The waiter returned with the wine, pouring us each a glass before slipping away. Luca picked his up first, swirling the deep red liquid lazily before taking a sip.
His eyes remained on me over the rim. I mirrored him, taking a slow sip of my own. The rich taste bloomed on my tongue.
"Why tonight?" I asked him.
Luca set his glass down. "Why not?"
I frowned. "That's not an answer."
His lips curved slightly. "Maybe I wanted to see if we could survive a conversation outside of bed."
Heat curled in my stomach but I kept my expression neutral. "Is that what we are doing?"
His gaze darkened, just for a second. "Trying to."
I let his words settle, rolling them over in my mind.
Trying.
Luca Moretti was trying for once. For me.
The conversation eased into silence but it wasn't uncomfortable. Luca didn't fill the quiet with unnecessary words and I found myself admiring him, simply taking in the moment.
The restaurant hummed softly around us with low voices, the faint clink of glasses, the distant sound of a piano drifting from somewhere unseen. The flickering candlelight cast shadows over his face, sharpening the angles of his jaw, his cheekbones.
Luca's fingers toyed with the stem of his wine glass, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my skin heat. It was not the way he looked at me in the dark when he had me pinned beneath him but something softer.
Dangerous in an entirely different way.
A waiter appeared with our food, setting the plates down. I murmured a polite thank you as he stepped away but Luca remained silent, his attention never wavering from me.
We ate in silence for a few minutes.
Eventually Luca spoke. "You should wear red more often."
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in conversation. "What?"
His gaze flicked over me. "The dress" he said simply. "It suits you."
Heat crawled up my neck unexpected.
I scoffed lightly, aiming for nonchalance. "I thought you didn't care about things like that."
He smirked, slow and knowing. "I do if its about my wife."
Wife. That sounded nice.
I swallowed picking up my fork, slicing off a small bite but before I could bring it to my lips, Luca's voice stopped me.
"Try this."
I looked up. He held out a bite of his own dish, speared neatly on the fork, extending it toward me with the kind of confidence that made it impossible to refuse.
I hesitated only for a second before leaning in, letting him feed me.
The steak was rich, savory with a hint of spice but it wasn't the food that had my pulse spiking.
Luca watched me closely, his expression unreadable but something about the way he held my gaze made it impossible to look away.
I swallowed, reached for my wine to steady myself. "You are staring."
"You are worth looking at." he simply said, before focusing back to eating.
I froze, fingers tightening around the stem of my glass.
Luca didn't offer compliments. And yet, he had already given me two tonight. I didn't know what to do with them. Didn't know how to stop the warmth curling low in my stomach.
The dinner stretched on, the wine working its way through my system, loosening the edges of my usual restraint.
By the time the plates were cleared and the last of the wine was poured, the restaurant had begun to empty out, leaving behind only a few people murmuring quietly over their drinks.
He leaned in, his voice low. "Enjoyed yourself?"
I arched a brow, feigning indifference. "It was fine."
Luca shifted in his seat, eyes locked on mine as he said, "I know how to make it better. Come here."
I stared at him unsure if I had heard him correctly. He was simply leaned back, hands resting on his thigh. The top buttons of his shirt was undone, revealing the tanned skin beneath. He was watching me, waiting.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before I stood.
I stepped around the table, his gaze tracking my every movement until I was right in front of him.
The moment I was close enough, his hand found my waist gripping firmly. He guided me onto his thigh, my body fitting against him like it belonged there.
The warmth of him seeped through my dress, through my skin, spreading like slow-burning fire. His other hand came up, fingers skimming my jaw, tilting my chin just enough to force my gaze to his.
My breath hitched. "Luca"
"Shh." His other hand traced absentminded circles against my hip, his voice low, dangerous. "People are watching, carina. You wouldn't want to make a scene, would you?"
And then he kissed me.
His lips brushed mine slowly, his hand coming up to curl around the nape of my neck. He didn't rush, just took his time, his thumb stroking idly along the side of my throat.
My stomach fluttered, my fingers instinctively tightening where they rested against his shoulder.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, forcing me to open them. When I let him in, he explored slow and thorough, his tongue sliding against mine.
A soft sound escaped me, barely audible but Luca swallowed it. His hand flexed at my waist, pressing me closer as if he wanted to feel every inch of me against him.
By the time he pulled back, just enough to let me breathe, my pulse was a wild, frantic thing.
Luca smirked, thumb brushing against my lower lip.
He murmured, voice rough. "I think I prefer you like this."
Breathless. Flushed. On his lap.