Chapter 4
LUNA
Luna knew she was playing a dangerous game.
Not just because Rocco sat across from her looking like temptation wrapped in muscle and control—but because she understood exactly how thin the line was between what she knew about him, and what she was starting to feel for him.
Those two things didn’t belong in the same space, but that didn’t stop her from sliding her foot up his leg under the table.
And it didn’t stop her from watching the exact moment his control slipped—just a fraction.
His jaw tightened, his shoulders went rigid, and his eyes darkened in a way that sent heat pooling low in her stomach. Yeah, that reaction was worth it.
“You’re staring,” she said lightly, even though she hadn’t moved her foot.
“Hard not to,” he shot back, voice rougher now. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I thought you liked that about me.” She shot him her best pouty face, making him smile.
“I do,” he said immediately, and that made something in her chest twist. Luna wasn’t used to that—men answering her without hesitation, without games, without trying to outmaneuver her.
Most of them either got intimidated by her or tried to tame her, but Rocco did neither.
He just met her where she was, and that was somehow worse.
She pulled her foot back slowly, not because she wanted to—but because she needed to breathe.
Luna needed to think and to remind herself that this wasn’t just some random guy she picked up at a bar—this was Rocco.
He was the man who had sat in her office and quietly admitted he felt like he didn’t deserve to survive.
He was the man who carried guilt like it was stitched into his bones; the man who had clawed his way back from something dark—and was still fighting not to fall back into it.
And now he was looking at her like she was something he wanted, and not something he needed, and for some odd reason, that mattered.
“Talk to me,” she said, softer now.
He frowned slightly. “About what?” he asked. “I thought that we were done with therapy.”
“We are finished with me being your therapist, but I still want to know things about you, Rocco. Tell me anything that isn’t me trying to get a rise out of you,” she teased, but there was an edge to it.
“Tell me something real.” He studied her for a long second, like he was deciding how much to give her.
Old habits die hard. He liked to make her work to get details out of him during their therapy sessions.
She could see that he was doing that same thing with her now, even on their date.
Finally, he leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Tony and Luca think this whole thing is insane,” he said. “They said that nothing good could come from me dating my shrink.”
She winced at that term. “Well, I hate being called a shrink, and honestly, they’re not wrong.”
“They keep asking me if you’re going to psychoanalyze me over dinner,” he said. “So, are you?”
Her lips twitched. “Should I?”
“If you do, I’m leaving,” he threatened.
“Liar,” she challenged. She knew that he was too much of a gentleman to just get up and leave their date, but a part of her still worried that she was pushing him too far, too fast.
He smirked. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” That eased something between them, just a little.
“Your turn,” he said. “Tell me something real.” Luna hesitated, which wasn’t at all like her. But this—this wasn’t her usual game. This wasn’t flirting for fun or pushing buttons just to see what happened. For some reason, this mattered.
“I don’t date,” she said finally.
His brows pulled together. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” she insisted. “Not like this. Not seriously.”
“Why?” he asked.
She let out a quiet breath, glancing down at the table before meeting his eyes again. “Because I don’t do halfway,” she admitted. “And most men can’t handle all of me.” There it was—the raw, honest truth. It just came out a little sharper than she intended. But she didn’t take it back.
Rocco didn’t laugh. Didn’t brush it off or turn it into a joke. He just nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I can see that.”
Her lips parted slightly. “That’s it? No smart comment?”
“No,” he said simply. “You’re intense, you’re bossy, and you don’t back down.
” His gaze held hers. “That doesn’t scare me.
” Her heart stuttered—actually stuttered, which was ridiculous.
She’d gone toe-to-toe with grown men in a boxing ring without blinking.
But this man was looking at her like he meant it? Well, that got to her.
“You say that now,” she murmured.
“I’m not most men,” he reminded. No, he wasn’t, and that was the problem.
Dinner wrapped up with neither of them touching much of their food, both of them too wrapped up in something neither of them wanted to name yet.
Outside, the night air hit her skin, cool against the heat still simmering under it.
Rocco walked beside her, close enough that she could feel him without touching him. She liked that a little too much.
“You trying to impress me?” she asked as they reached his truck.
“With what?” he said.
“The whole opening doors, helping me in, being all gentleman-like,” she said.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “No. That’s just who I am.”
She studied him for a second, then nodded.
“Good,” she said. “Don’t change that.” His hand landed on her hip again as he helped her up, and this time—she didn’t pretend it didn’t affect her or hide the way she leaned into him just a little.
She didn’t pretend that her fingers brushed his arm by accident, even gripping it for a second longer than necessary.
When he shut her door, she exhaled slowly, pressing her head back against the seat. This was dangerous. Not because of chemistry or attraction, but because she could already feel it slipping into something deeper—something harder to control.
The drive back to her place was quieter than before. When he pulled up outside her apartment, neither of them moved right away. Luna turned toward him slowly. “This is the part where you decide if you’re walking me to the door or not,” she said.
His gaze dropped to her lips for half a second before coming back up to her eyes. “You gonna invite me in?” She liked how direct Rocco was. He was that way in therapy, too, and it was one of the things that drew her to him. She always knew where she stood with him.
She smiled slightly. “Maybe.” He studied her, like he was weighing something, and then he got out of the truck without another word. Luna’s pulse kicked up as she let him help her down from his truck again, her body brushing his this time—no space, no hesitation.
They walked to her door in silence that was filled with anticipation. Her hands were steady as she unlocked it, pushing it open before turning back to him, and for a second, neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. “Goodnight, Rocco,” she said softly.
His jaw tightened slightly, like he didn’t quite like that answer to his unasked question. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him or herself, because she really liked him. He stepped closer anyway, closing the distance until her back nearly brushed the door.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Goodnight.” But he didn’t leave, and neither did she.
Her breath hitched when his hand came up, brushing a strand of hair back from her face.
He was so gentle, she forgot who he was or what he did for a living now.
His actions were so different from the heat simmering just under the surface of him.
“Luna,” he murmured. She didn’t let him finish.
Her hand fisted in his shirt, pulling him down as she kissed him—harder this time, deeper, letting all the restraint from dinner snap in an instant.
He responded immediately, one hand bracing against the door beside her, the other settling at her waist. For a moment, the world narrowed to just that—heat, breath, and the pull between them.
Then she broke their kiss and looked up at him. “Still think you can handle me?” she whispered.
His answer was low and certain. “Yeah.”
Her lips curved slightly as she nodded. “Good,” she breathed. Because she had a feeling that he had no idea what he had just signed up for.
Luna didn’t sleep, not really. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of the night before like her mind refused to let it go.
She remembered the way he looked at her, and the way he touched her—careful, like she might break, but with something stronger underneath.
Something that said he wouldn’t hesitate if she asked for more—and God, she almost had.
That was the part that got to her. Luna wasn’t impulsive when it came to men. She flirted, she pushed, she tested—but she didn’t lose control. Not like she wanted to, not with anyone. But Rocco made her forget herself, and that was a problem—a big one.
She groaned softly and dragged a pillow over her face. “Get it together,” she muttered into the fabric. “He’s just a man.” A man who knew how to unravel her with one look. He was a man who had seen her at her most professional—and still wanted her when she dropped the act.
A man who—“Stop,” she ordered herself, throwing the pillow aside and sitting up. This wasn’t like her. She didn’t spiral, and she never obsessed over a man. She definitely didn’t lie awake thinking about a man who had just kissed her like he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and her heart jumped before she could stop it. She grabbed her phone, already knowing who it was before she even looked.
Rocco: You up?
Her lips curved despite herself. She knew that he never really slept either, and that did something to her—something soft and dangerous she didn’t want to name. She typed back before she could overthink reasons not to.
Luna: Maybe. You stalking me now?
The reply came almost immediately.
Rocco: Thought about it.
She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. God, he was trouble.
Luna: Bold answer.
There was a pause; this time it was long enough that she could feel the hesitation even through a screen.
Rocco: I can’t stop thinking about you.
Her breath caught. Just like that—no games and no smooth lines.
Rocco was just being honest, and that was refreshing.
Luna leaned back against her headboard, staring at the words like they might disappear if she blinked.
That was the thing about Rocco—he didn’t play.
He didn’t dance around what he felt, and that made it a hell of a lot harder to keep her own guard up.
Her fingers hovered over the screen before she finally typed.
Luna: That’s dangerous, Rocco.
Rocco: Yeah. It is.
Silence stretched between them again, loaded with everything they weren’t saying, and with everything they both felt but hadn’t quite crossed into yet. Luna exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair.
“You need boundaries,” she murmured to herself. She had spent years helping people build them, enforce them, and respect them, but now she was about to blow right through her own. Her phone buzzed again.
Rocco: Tell me to stop and I will.
That hit harder than anything else he’d said, because she knew he meant it. He’d walk away if she asked him to. He wouldn’t push her and wouldn’t fight her on her decision. He’d respect her. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t want that.
Her chest tightened as she stared at the message. This was the moment—the line in the sand. It was her choice to make. She could end things between them now and go back to her normal life. She’d be able to stay in control, or she could step into something messy. Something unpredictable and real.
Luna smiled slowly, something reckless and certain settled in her bones. Yeah, she never picked the safe choice. Her fingers moved before she could talk herself out of it.
Luna: I’m not telling you to stop.
Three dots appeared instantly, then disappeared, and then came back. She could practically feel him on the other side of the phone, trying to figure out what to say, and it made her grin.
Rocco: Good.
His response was simple, but it carried weight along with promise.
Her pulse picked up again, that same heat from the night before curling low in her stomach.
“Yeah,” she whispered to herself, dropping her phone to the bed beside her.
“This is going to be a problem.” But she didn’t sound upset about it—not even a little bit, because for the first time in a long time, Luna wasn’t trying to control what came next.
She was just going to feel her way through it, and that was a whole different kind of dangerous.