35 Game On #2
I place the pink ball on the stand and tap the ball gently. It rolls up a ramp, then rolls back toward me.
“Well, I think I can say with confidence that golf is not my thing.”
Luca laughs, then lines up his ball.
He hits the ball so hard it flies off the ramp and disappears into the bushes.
“…That didn’t count,” he says firmly.
We make our way through the course. Luca pretends to be a golf pro, me somehow making accidental trick shots here and there. Both of us laughing so much I’m convinced I’ll have abs in the morning.
By the last hole, a giant windmill, he steps behind me, hands brushing my hip, guiding my stance.
“Relax your shoulders,” he murmurs, warm breath skimming my ear.
My heart stutters. His scent is warm and woody, with a subtle spicy note. I’m aware of every part of my body that’s touching his. The heat radiating from him, soaking through my clothes into my skin. He gently pulls my arms back and swings forward.
I sink the shot instantly.
Luca steps back, grinning. “I got that magic touch.” He winks, and my mind jumps back to the bath.
My cheeks heat, betraying me. He chuckles, pulling me into his arms.
To end the night, he insists on my first game of laser tag.
Fog curls along the floor in ghostly waves. Blacklights pulse from the rafters. Neon barriers glow radioactive green.
My vest lights up blue, fog curling around my legs as I step between glowing walls.
A laser hits my vest. Dead-on.
I spin. Nothing. Another shot, another hit.
He’s hunting me.
“Luca,” I whisper.
A low murmur slides against the back of my neck.
“Hi, pretty girl.”
I don’t even get the chance to turn. His hand skims my hip first, barely there, but enough to send every nerve firing. His chest brushes my back.
“You’re cheating again,” I breathe.
“Definitely.” His breath hits my ear, warm and smug. “Only way to catch you.”
I whirl, lifting my blaster. He catches my wrist mid-movement, pinning my arm above my head against the glowing wall. It forces me up on my toes.
Forces me into him.
“Let me go,” I say, though my voice is nowhere near convincing.
“Why?” Luca asks, stepping closer, his thigh sliding between mine. “So you can run off and shoot me?”
“That was the plan.”
“Mm.” He leans in, lips brushing my jaw but not quite touching. “I’ve got a better idea.”
His other hand slides along my waist, fingers hooking just at the edge of my shirt, heat moving up my spine.
I choke on a breath. “Luca—”
He tilts his head so his mouth grazes my ear. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he murmurs. “Pinned. Cornered. Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I breathe.
He smirks, his hips press closer.
The blaster slips from my hand.
He looks at me with a hunger that feels like an electric current straight through my body,
“Tell me to stop,” he says.
I don’t.
I can’t.
He grabs my waist and drags me fully into him. His thumb strokes the corner of my mouth.
Then he kisses me.
His hands slide into my hair, tugging just enough to make my knees go weak. I fist the front of his vest and pull him down harder, because suddenly I don’t care about air, or balance, or anything that isn’t him tasting like desire.
He groans into my mouth. His thigh shifts between mine, pinning and rubbing against me.
I don’t know how long the kiss goes on. Could been hours, lifetimes.
“I will never be able to get enough of your lips.” He pants.
He kisses me again, nibbling on my lower lip. My hands slide up his neck and into his hair.
The buzzer sounds overhead and we both look up.
“Round two… outside the arena?” Luca’s voice is rough.
I swallow hard. “Yeah. I think you owe me a rematch.”
His smile turns feral. “Good. Because I’m not done with you.”
We step out of the arcade, the night air cooling my nerves. The city hum fades behind us, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant glow of street lamps.
I glance at him, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “That… was insane,” I breathe, still buzzing. “I’ve never laughed that much in… I don’t even know how long. You really know how to show a girl a good time.”
He smirks, eyes twinkling even in the dark. “Good,” he murmurs. “Hearing that laugh, seeing that smile… It’s worth everything. You deserve it, Isobel. You deserve to feel happy. All of it.”
Warmth spreads through my body at the sincerity in his voice. He’s my Luca: flirty, teasing, dangerous, all-consuming. Yet somehow, underneath it, there’s that flicker of care, fleeting and hazardous in its intensity.
I swallow and grin. “Well… mission accomplished, then.”
“Absolutely,” he says, voice low and rough. “Mission: Isobel’s happiness—success.” He bumps his shoulder lightly against mine, teasing, almost playful. “And I’m just glad I get to be the reason for it.”
I shake my head, laughing softly.
We keep walking toward the park, the path barely lit, the shadows clinging to the edges of trees and benches. The night hums around us, soft and secretive.
His hand brushes mine once, then he grabs it. Our fingers lacing together easily.
“I like this,” he murmurs. “No lights, no one watching… just you and me.”
I bite my lip, trying to keep my pulse under control. “It’s… quiet,” I look around. “A little too quiet.”
“Yeah,” he says, voice dropping, deepening. “Perfect for… getting distracted.”
I know what he means before he even looks at me. His eyes are smoldering and unapologetically hungry. I can feel him in every step we take. The subtle heat radiates off him when his shoulder brushes mine.
We reach a secluded corner of the park, where the shadows are thick and branches hang low. Luca stops. And suddenly I’m aware of every inch of him, the way he towers over me, how his chest presses forward slightly, daring me to look up.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs, close enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek.
I can’t. My body won’t obey. Every nerve is awake, every instinct screaming.
And then he’s there. Hands on my hips, pulling me flush against him. My back hits the tree behind me, the rough bark pressing into my shoulder. His lips are on mine before I can react, and the kiss is fierce, claiming. A continuation of the heat we left inside the laser tag arena.
Hands slide into hair, over ribs, brushing the small of my back. His thigh presses between mine, strong, unyielding. I can’t think—can’t breathe—but I don’t want to.
Every kiss, every brush of skin, every whispered growl of my name is electric, almost reckless. The dim light barely illuminates us, but I can feel every magnetic movement, every tiny adjustment of his body.
When we finally pull back—just a fraction—our foreheads touch. I’m panting, heart hammering. He smirks like he knows exactly what he’s done to me.
“You are absolutely delicious.” His lips graze mine again, teasing.
I swallow hard. “I think… you’re just insatiable,” I murmur, voice low.
“What can I say? You’re so irresistible, pretty girl,” he says, eyes dark, almost predatory.