Chapter Twenty-Three
Chiara
I blink slowly back to consciousness. My mind is sluggish.
Ugh, did I drink too much at karaoke night?
Then the memories come crashing back and I freeze for a second, wondering if I had dreamed it all.
I whirl my head to the other side of the bed.
There is clearly an indentation on the other pillow.
I jump up so fast, the room tilts for a second, and I cry out when the soreness registers all over my body.
It…hadn’t been a dream. My breath comes out in a disbelieving gasp.
I look around, but except for the indent on the pillow and the faint scent of his cologne, there is no trace of Lucas or proof he has been in the room.
He’s left... Good.
I walk to the adjoining bathroom in a daze and into the shower, too disoriented to think straight. As the warm water streams over me, my mind clears and I measure what has happened. Lucas broke into my apartment in the middle of the night. And we had… Oh, god.
I lean my head against the shower wall and close my eyes with a groan.
That had been a huge mistake. Not the act itself.
The sex had been rough and primal—the orgasms he ripped out of me blew my mind.
In fact, I had never felt things so intensely as last night.
But I had let him take a part of me, I had let him in, although I had vowed that I wouldn’t give him the power to destroy me again. And that had been reckless.
I open my eyes again, steeling my mind. It meant nothing.
He is gone, and that’s the proof I needed to build my resolve up again.
He has been pursuing me because I resisted him.
Some supposedly stupid male instinct to hunt and chase.
I had only been a disturbance in his world where every woman he meets falls to his feet.
And since I had not, I had become a disruption of his predictable life.
Now that I am nothing more than another notch on his bedpost, he has hopefully lost interest and has gone back to his world.
I laugh with bitterness. It meant nothing to him, and now I can finally move on.
After I feel like myself again, I turn the shower off and step out to wrap myself in a towel. Once the fog has cleared from the mirror, I lift my arm to brush my hair and catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection. And freeze.
My throat and upper chest are covered in hickeys. My breath stalls.
What the…
I let the towel fall to the floor and gasp.
My body is covered in marks. His marks. I lean closer, cataloging the love bites and imprints of his fingers all over my body.
The events of the night come crashing back one by one, everything he had done, every kiss, every caress and harsh claim, every dirty word.
I press my thighs together, the ache inside me morphing into another kind of ache.
Oh, no! No, no, no!
I push the feeling down with despair. I knew that giving in was going to cost me.
Now I have to live with the memory of last night, and it will be even more painful.
My infatuation had been platonic until this moment.
But now that I’ve gotten a taste of him, imagining him with another woman, seeing him with someone else, will break me. I can’t see him again, ever.
I slam the brush on the counter, walk into my room to pull on some underwear, a tank top and cut off shorts, and decide to go out for a walk to clear my head.
But when I open the bedroom door, I stop dead.
There…is the scent of something cooking wafting from the kitchen. I gingerly walk toward the smell, each step making my heart pound harder. Then I halt in the doorway to the small kitchen, taking in the scene.
Lucas is standing by the stove with his back to me, hair still damp and dressed in the attire he seems to favor lately—dark jeans and a black T-shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. He is barefoot, his big frame dwarfing the already tiny kitchen.
My stomach knots. What is he doing here?
He must’ve heard my sharp breath intake because he turns around with a bright smile, at ease and relaxed as if he belonged here.
“Hello, cara mia. Vieni—come have a seat. Pancakes are almost ready. I made some tea and coffee. I would’ve stopped at the coffee shop, but it’s Sunday and the only coffee shop in town is closed.
” He winks—winks!—and my jaw drops to the floor.
“I went to shower at the hotel because I didn’t want to wake you, and on the way back I got us some fresh fruit and ingredients for blueberry pancakes,” he explains.
I stand rooted on the spot, too dumbstruck to move or talk.
He is on me with one stride and tilts my face up with a knuckle under my chin to brush his lips over mine.
I am still too stunned to react. After a beat, he frowns.
“What is it, love? Fuck, you don’t like pancakes, is that it?
” His face clouds over with uncertainty.
“Shit…” He rakes his fingers through his hair.
“I should’ve asked what you wanted, I thought that you liked blueberry pancakes since you always ate them for brunch over at Lily’s—”
I snap out of my daze. “You…know how to cook?” Okay, maybe my brain is still a bit muddled, because of all the questions, it had to be the one spilling out.
He smiles down at me as he pulls me to the counter to sit me on a stool. And I let him maneuver me like an obedient toddler, too flummoxed to resist. Once I’m seated, he drops a kiss on my damp hair.
“There are many things you don’t know about me, love. But you’ll learn. And I look forward to learning everything about you.”
He steps back to the other side and hands me a cup of Earl Grey tea. I inhale the strong, spicy scent and it helps to ground me. When I look up again, I have schooled my face into a scowl. “What are you doing here, Lucas?”
He gives me a confused frown. “Isn’t it obvious?” He gestures with the spatula. “Making breakfast, of course.”
“You know exactly what I mean,” I counter. “Why are you not back in Boston to move on with your life after your little bucolic vacation?”
He doesn’t reply but spins to turn off the stove and sets the spatula on the counter.
Then he turns back to me, and I freeze at the darkness in his gaze as he rounds the counter and traps me against it.
He swivels the stool to turn me to face him.
Our noses are almost brushing and I lean back warily, heart pounding in my chest.
“Move on?” he grinds out, eyes blazing dangerously.
“You really think I could just walk away from you, or that you can throw me away?” He leans closer, burying his nose in the crook of my neck and inhaling hungrily.
“That I’d let you go?” he rasps against my ear making goosebumps explode over my skin. “I don’t think so, cara.”
He grabs my jaw to hold me in place and slams his lips over mine for a brutal and possessive kiss.
I try to push him back with my hands on his chest, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall, he doesn’t budge.
He darts his tongue in to brush against mine and raises his hand to the back of my head, curling his fingers into my hair to angle my face up.
He slides his other hand down to my ass and pulls me closer.
He is now standing between my thighs, grinding himself against me and I can feel his hard length against my pussy.
“Feel what you do to me…” he rasps against my mouth, pushing harder.
When he pulls back at last, we are both breathing hard, gazes locked.
The azure of his eyes is almost entirely swallowed by the black of his pupils, and the narrow ring of blue burns into me, fierce and possessive.
Suddenly, he steps back and swivels my stool back to the counter.
His front is plastered against my back. “Eat now, cara mia, we have a long day ahead,” he murmurs hoarsely in my ear.
Then he rounds the island to get the plate of pancakes and another with sliced fruit, and slides both in front of me.
I frown at him in confusion. “What do you mean, we have a long day?”
He takes a sip of his coffee and sets the cup down before stating matter-of-factly. “We’re visiting our future home.”