Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
LUCA
Thank.
Fucking.
Christ.
He exhaled out a disbelieving laugh that she matched. “I can’t take this anymore.”
The exhausted ‘what the hell is happening?’ shaking of their heads was almost in sync.
Mirth danced in her eyes. “Worst game of chicken, ever.”
It was all just tumbling out of him now.
He couldn’t keep it in. “I can’t wait to see you every morning.
You’re gorgeous, and kind, and”—he wiped a hand down his face at his inability to stop talking—“fuck, you’re so hot.
Your hair looks like the best part of a sunset.
Like, I’ve tried to look up the color but it doesn’t exist? How is that possible?”
She laughed at their shared frustration.
He tugged at the ends of his hair with both hands in frustration. “I get up early just so I can catch a whiff of—what on god’s earth do you wear? What is that scent?”
She laughed in disbelief, her hand muffling her mouth. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
A wave of overwhelming happiness made him dizzy. He put his hands on his knees, just trying to reel in all the feelings, and he shook his head. “So it’s not…just me?”
She rubbed her hand on her breastbone. Her long lashes fluttered as if she was catching her breath. She bit her lip and shook her head. “So not just you. I thought someone punched me in my soul when I saw you the first time.”
He held his attraction on a short leash.
It pulled and thrashed against his control.
He wiped his lip, trying to stop his body from doing the one thing it wanted. His head spun. “What is this between us? Did one of us piss off a witch?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head with a grimace. “But it’s a motherfucker.”
“Yeah,” he said with a hollow laugh, knowing they’d both do the responsible, adult thing. “It would be a disaster. We can’t…you know. It has to stop here.”
“I mean, I’m leaving. I must leave,” she said, jutting her hand like a plane taking off for emphasis. “We can’t. The Hindenburg would look like a fender bender in comparison, it would be such a disaster. I mean if it feels like this now…”
He groaned in agreement.
She lingered near him though, and his breath kept catching with the effort it took to be responsible.
“I don’t want AB to get attached,” he said quietly, even as his fingers slyly brushed the edge of her coat.
He didn’t want to get attached.
More attached, you asshole. Her leaving would be like losing a semi-vital organ at this point.
“Plus, I’m paying you. So this”—he gestured between them—“would be a pretty terrible idea.” He tightened her coat around her.
She bit her lip as she stared at his mouth, slowly nodding. “Those are all really good reasons. This is just…chemistry.” She waved it away.
It’s my undying devotion of who you are as a person.
“It’ll pass.” She shrugged, not looking at him.
When I die, probably.
But he nodded like he agreed. Be an adult. Protect yourself and AB.
It was still dark around her back door. “Let’s get you inside. I’ll walk you home.”
She smirked, rolling her eyes as they walked to the back steps.
It was a pretty flimsy reason to spend more time with her, to be fair.
He slyly grabbed the light bulb he’d set out on his back porch and turned on the monitor app on his phone in case AB needed him.
“Still haven’t gotten to that light bulb?” he asked.
“I’ve been a little busy,” she said, acting scathed. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of this movie called Frozen? I just watched it with my favorite people.”
He chuckled and caught her scent as he walked beside her.
When she got to her back door, she stood in that lingering way women did on dates.
Keys? Fiddled with.
Dewy eyes and plush lips? Check and check.
Looking at her pretty face, he slowly reached up to unscrew the dead light bulb. He was pleased at her waterfall of laughter as he reached up with a fresh one. The new bulb cast a warm glow with his final twist.
“Pretty smooth, Bishop.”
Her smile was sultry and warm, and he finally understood why men went to war over beautiful women.
He’d do anything for her at that moment.
His fingers itched to touch her again. Instead, he perused the freckles on her face, the faint smile line of her cheek. “I just want to keep you safe. That’s all,” he said quietly.
Never taking her eyes from his, she reached up to stand on her tiptoes. She placed a hand on his chest for balance, and he clutched it against him, enveloping her hand with his.
She was just tall enough to reach the light bulb.
She slowly unscrewed it until darkness flooded around them again.
His heart hammered in his chest as she leaned toward him, inches from his mouth.
“Thanks for walking me home.”
He licked his lips. She’d taste so good.
“Any time,” he whispered, his thumb stroking her fingers.
Hammering, hammering, hammering.
His heart beat faster against her hand.
He brushed her cheek gently, his thumb swiping the apple of its perfection. Her breath stuttered.
“Eyelash,” he said.
She leaned into his hand shamelessly, closing her eyes. Christ, he could die happy now, being the person she’d nuzzle into.
“Was there…” Her breathless voice hitched as he stroked the soft roundness of her cheek again as it pressed into his palm. “W…was there really an eyelash there?”
“No,” he quietly admitted. Just needed to touch you.
His forehead met hers, and a primal need to taste her gripped his body.
“We should stop,” he whispered against her cheek.
“Definitely,” she said, not moving a muscle.
His breaths came in needy pulls. The ends of their noses brushed.
Again.
And slowly, again.
His eyes closed as he lingered there. Her skin felt like velvet against him. He never wanted to stop touching her, being beside her.
He gulped down the whiskey-laced wine of her breath, inhaling as close as he could, restraining his lips and tongue from tasting it for themselves.
This is agony.
Pure, needy, mewling agony.
The ache of wanting her was un-fucking-bearable.
“Please, Liv.” He puffed the plea against her cheek, his nose nuzzling hers.
The bow of her top lip brushed his chin in exquisite, slow agony as her heavy breaths came out hot against him, the heat of it flushing his skin, taunting him.
Just once. Just one kiss. So I don’t die from this. He was so close his lips brushed her cheek as he spoke. “Please. Can I kiss—”
Soft lips pressed against his.
The dam he’d built to contain his need exploded into dust clouds of sapphire and sunset.
His hands were in her silky hair, cradling her head as he kissed her deeper, harder, pulling her into him.
There you are. Mine.
She tasted as eternal as the sky and the moon and the crisp autumn wind around them.
Stars in their brittle constellations ached for the permanence of the devotion running in his veins for this woman.
She’d always been his.
She’d always be his.
Her tongue traced his lip and a moan—was that him?—groaned out, low and needy. He slid his arm around her waist, pressing her closer. Her arms wound around him, pulling him closer, and his cock throbbed, wanting her. Wanting more.
Showers of pleasure cascaded down his spine as her nails raked up into his hair.
Their kisses grew sloppy and claiming.
Pure lust-drenched hunger took over as he gasped against her lips.
He feasted on her mouth.
Tasting, biting, needing.
Gulping each mouthful of her scent to store it away for the rest of his life.
Her teeth raked against his lip, and he pulled her up with one arm around her waist so she was at eye level with him. His other hand braced her jaw so that he could worship her properly, dragging each long kiss out of her, tasting that scent that made his cock pulse.
Her feet dangled off the ground, and his hand slid down to her ass, gripping it. Claiming it.
An unslakable need was finally met at feeling her in his hands.
Her soft, warm tongue met his, and a lightning strike of need thumped in his body.
Need her, want her.
More.
She wrapped her legs around him. White-hot desire took over as the heat of her pussy in her thin yoga pants met his cock, which now felt like granite in his jeans.
He pressed her against the brick of the cottage, wanting the feeling of pressing against all her softness. Pressing against her heat.
But the cold brick against his hands was a splash of reality. She lives here. Temporarily.
But fuck, she felt so good against him, her breasts pressing into him, how perfectly she fit there.
Gotta stop.
He kissed her with his entire being, savoring this last taste.
Last one.
He dragged his lips away, even as his tongue darted out to lick at her bottom lip.
Clouds of their breaths mingled together as they panted, staring at each other.
She was silent with wide, shocked eyes.
“That should be the last time, right?” he muttered, trying to gauge her reaction.
She nodded slowly, her eyes on his lips. “Obviously,” she murmured as she pulled him down to her mouth.
He groaned in relief, cupping the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss. Tongues and lips and sighs mingled lazily, breathlessly.
Back home. Right here with her is home.
Each lick into her mouth made him think of licking her everywhere; each nip from her teeth made his cock jump.
She squeezed her legs tighter around him, and his hips ground against her in reflex. Fuck, it would be so good with her.
He ground against her again, and she gasped into his mouth. Yes.
What he’d give to hear her come. Scream his name.
The tease of the pressure on his cock made it even harder. Fuck, I might come from kissing her.
He squeezed her ass hard, imagining what it would be like to rock into her again and again and again.
She smiled and whispered against his lips, “Bunhead.”
A laugh rumbled out of him as she kissed his jaw, his neck, and he cradled her head against him, kissing her temple slowly.
Her arms wrapped around him in a hug as her heart beat against his. “That was the last one,” she muttered into his neck.
They teetered on a ridiculous ledge.
He set her down but kept his hands on her waist, not wanting to break contact yet. She pressed her face into his chest.
“Uggggh. Just as I found my happy place,” she said, voice muffled by his shirt. “It has to go away.”
He ran his fingers up from the base of her neck, over her scalp, until he cradled her head. Tugging gently on the silk strands, he slowly pulled her head back, exposing her long, elegant neck.
“Fucking perfect,” he growled.
He lowered his mouth to hers, savoring the feeling of her swollen, bee-stung lips with one long, slow kiss.
He poured all of himself, all the love he already had for her, into it, tracing his tongue along her cupid’s bow lip, the weight of her safely in his hands.
“Last time, mean it,” he whispered with disappointment as he pulled back.
No more. Think of your priorities.
She pressed her forehead against his chest. “Urgh,” she groaned in frustration. She slowly pushed herself away, the effort looking painful.
They stared at one another in understanding, sharing their disappointment.
“I shouldn’t do that again,” he said.
Or I might throw my entire life away at a chance to make you happy. Be selfish like my mother.
She nodded, staring at the keys she’d pulled out of her pocket.
He twisted the light bulb back on, and its warm glow flooded the back porch. Her lips were red and her cheeks were flushed. Pink patches surrounded her lips where she’d rubbed against his scruff.
Gorgeous.
She fought to contain a smile as she rubbed her cheek. “Even with beard burn?”
Fuck, he hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud.
“Especially with it,” he said, heated.
The goddamn caveman in him liked that he’d marked her, for a few minutes at least.
She unlocked her door, gave him a lingering wave as she closed it, and locked it.
His chest ached with missing her already as he stood alone on her back porch.
Luca was not a religious man, nor a spiritual one.
All the same, on his walk back to his house, he still raised both middle fingers into the air, aimed at whichever gods that had created this exquisite torture.