Chapter 43
Lara
Whenever you’ve had enough of completing quests, take a break. You can decorate your lighthouse or relax by the sea.
When I open my eyes the next morning, I feel more rested than I have in ages—even though it’s still dark out, and not a single sound reaches my ears, so it must still be really early.
Warm breath skims my cheek. Luca has his arm wrapped around me.
His hair is tousled, and I slowly put out my hand, careful not to wake him, and stroke his arm gently.
He lets out a sleepy grumble that makes me grin.
I turn around in his embrace and reach for my phone.
As expected, there are several messages waiting already.
First, I send my team a few words of reassurance.
Nataly has already briefed them on most of what happened.
Then I open my chat with my parents. Nat called them too, but as I read their worried messages, I can feel my bad conscience stirring. I type a quick reply.
Lara: Sorry I’m only writing to you now. I was dead tired last night, but everything’s fine. It wasn’t even a real house fire, just a small cable fire. I’m not hurt or anything, but they gave me a good checkup, and turns out it was just shock. Love you.
My mum’s reply follows promptly, while my dad takes longer to type out his message, as usual.
Mum: We love you too! I’m so glad you’re all right. Were you able to get some rest? I’m sure you need to go easy on your voice, but please call us as soon as you feel up to it, all right? And let us know if you need anything. I can come to London anytime.
Dad: Stay safe. Can’t believe they’re hosting a big event like that in such a ramshackle place.
I roll my eyes and chuckle. My parents’ replies are so typical.
Lara: I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Would you mind if I visited sometime soon?
Mum: Oh, that would be wonderful! You can come over anytime. Let me know and I’ll take the day off.
Lara: Will do! I’ll let you know after the convention’s over.
I place my phone back on the nightstand and notice how my heart feels lighter in my chest. It feels right that I’ve finally decided to pay them a visit. It’s been too long.
When I snuggle up against Luca again, he gives another grumble and then a hearty stretch. “Good morning.” His words come out in a sleepy mutter.
“Hey,” I reply, turning back around so I can see his face. He’s smiling, and he gently strokes my cheek.
“How’s your throat?”
“Great,” I say, though that’s not quite true. It’s nowhere near as painful as it was yesterday, but I can still clearly feel the roughness in it.
Luca seems to see right through me, because he raises an eyebrow and mouths the word I heard him say about a hundred times yesterday: “Drink.”
With a theatrical sigh, I sit up and finish the rest of my cup of water. “There, happy?”
He pats the mattress next to him. “Now I am,” he says as I crawl back under the duvet with him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m OK,” I reply, and this time it’s true.
Luca’s about to answer, but I put a finger on his lips.
“Can we act like everything’s hunky-dory for a little bit longer?
If my phone’s correct, it’s only six o’clock in the morning; everyone is still asleep, and I can skive off being a functional adult for another hour or two. ”
I remove my finger from his lips, which stretch into a smile.
“Fine.” He lays his head back down on the pillow, warm hand resting on my hip.
I bury my own hand in his soft hair again and pull him closer.
A heartbeat later, my lips come to rest on his.
His scent envelops me, making it hard to form a coherent thought.
I get lost in our kiss, in him. My heart is racing, and when I place my free hand on his chest, I can feel his heart beating just as wildly beneath my fingers.
Knowing I’m the one doing this to him is an incredible feeling.
I want more of this. More of him. I gently bite his lower lip, deepening our kiss, and Luca suddenly pulls back.
An involuntary noise of frustration escapes my lips.
He chuckles quietly, but he makes no move to kiss me again, instead brushing a stray bit of hair from my forehead.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. You were in an ambulance last night.”
“And they let me leave after a good checkup.”
“With the instruction that you get some rest.”
“This is all very relaxing to me right now, if I’m honest.”
The corners of Luca’s mouth twitch. “You sure?”
I nod, possibly a bit too eagerly, because Luca chuckles.
He takes my face in both his hands, and this time, his kiss isn’t cautious, but wildly passionate.
My hair falls across our faces like a veil, shielding us from the rest of the world.
It’s perfect. Or almost perfect, because despite how close Luca is to me, it’s still not enough.
My body tingles with excitement as I press closer to him, wrapping one leg around him.
Our kiss becomes more intense, hungrier.
His hand wanders away from my face and underneath the blankets, down to my waist. When his fingers brush my warm skin, I suppress a shiver.
My breath is starting to come in heavier bursts, but I don’t interrupt our kiss.
My fingers involuntarily twist themselves into the fabric of his T-shirt, pushing it up until I can feel his skin against mine.
I press closer to him, and Luca rolls us around in bed.
Now he’s on top of me, and I feel a sudden, warm rush of longing between my legs.
I arch my back, raising my hips to meet him, and his quiet moan is music to my ears.
His kiss gets more intense, and my entire body feels electric in the best possible way.
I’ve never been able to let go like this before.
After all our caution, all our deliberate glances, and the endless ruminating thoughts knocking around inside my head, this is the best gift Luca could ever give me.
His fingers trail down my back, along my sides and to my stomach, goose bumps following his touch.
I wait for Luca to take it further, to keep letting his fingers wander, but he doesn’t.
So I twist my fingers in the fabric of his shirt again, impatiently pulling it upward.
It’s trickier than expected because of how tightly we’re intertwined.
As if he reads my thoughts, Luca pushes himself up on the bed to make it easier for me.
I pull his black T-shirt up over his head, carelessly throwing it down on the mattress next to us.
Luca’s chest rises and falls as quickly as mine, and his gaze burns white-hot when he looks at me. He’s beautiful.
Without thinking, I brush my fingertips across his chest, then his stomach, and finally I go lower. Low enough for him to suck in a hissing breath. My lips stretch into a smile.
“It’s rude to stare; at least give me a compliment or something,” he repeats one of the first sentences he said to me. I laugh, shaking my head. It’s crazy how much has changed since.
“Even then, I definitely thought you didn’t need any compliments.”
“Yeah, but now you’ve gotten to know my sensitive side, and I bet you’ve changed your mind,” he says, raising his eyebrows at me.
I smile, but my throat is dry, because I’ve chosen that exact moment to let my fingers explore the elastic of his trousers.
“I want you.”
It’s only three little words, but they’re enough to wake a flash of hunger in Luca’s eyes.
That flash burns brighter as I slide my fingers an inch lower, until I can grab hold of the drawstrings on his tracksuit trousers.
My heart beats a wild staccato as I slowly untie them.
Luca raises his hips ever so slightly, and a few seconds later, his trousers are history too.
My cheeks are burning. Not with embarrassment, but with the thrill, and because I can see how hard he is already.
We roll over, and I sit up on his lap. We both moan at the contact.
Luca lays his hands on my thighs, pressing me closer, and feeling him pressed up against me like this wakes a sensual throb right between my thighs. I’ve never wanted anyone this much before. Nervous though I normally am to undress—I want to feel him. Every inch of his skin.
I pause for a moment, meeting the question in Luca’s gaze.
My heartbeat is deafening, and I can feel the familiar knot in my chest. This is ridiculous.
There are loads of people with scars. It’s just skin.
It’s a part of me. I’m alive, I’m healthy—why the hell does my head know all that, and yet it reacts like this every single time?
How can it be that a few people in my class managed to break me so thoroughly?
I’m in my bloody mid-twenties. How can a bunch of sixteen-year-olds hold that level of power over me?
Be brave.
I take my hands off Luca and place them on the hem of my T-shirt, my heart beating wildly. Then I pull it off in one fluid movement.