Chapter 8 Willow
Willow
This is a mistake.
I should not be following my stepbrother down the hallway and into his bedroom, especially not after what we’ve already done—even if he doesn’t know who I am.
But this is the most he has ever spoken to me, and if I’m being honest with myself, I want to know more about the guy I’ve been having sex with these past six months.
I repress the little voice inside of me screaming that this is wrong, that I’m essentially lying by omission, that it’s not fair to him.
Luca’s room is surprisingly tidy. There’s a desk in the corner with a laptop and a stack of textbooks piled next to it.
A framed signed Liverpool jersey hangs above it.
He has a king-size bed in the middle of the room, and a wooden chest sitting at the foot of it.
On the opposite wall is a big-screen television.
The door closes behind me with a deafening snick, and I’m immediately overwhelmed by a scent that is so distinctly Luca that I wonder how I never picked up on it before. He brushes past me on his way to his desk, but I can’t seem to draw my eyes away from his bed.
“Her name was Camilla.” His voice is thick with emotion.
I swallow around the lump in my throat before dragging my gaze to the photo frame he’s holding out. My feet propel me forward, and our fingers touch as I reach out to take it from him. My breath hitches when our eyes meet, but I quickly glance down at the photo in my hands.
A young Luca is wrapped in her arms, and they both have their heads thrown back in laughter.
I smile as I take in the small details like the way their eyes crinkle in the same way, and the slight imperfection of their noses.
They share the same brown hair and hazel eyes.
“You look like her,” I muse. “She’s beautiful. ”
“You think I’m beautiful?” he quips, and my cheeks heat at his playful smirk. “I’m kidding,” he says as he takes the frame and places it back on his desk. “Thank you. She was.”
Silence settles over the room, and I tug on the hem of the oversized T-shirt I sleep in, trying to cover my thick thighs. All of a sudden, I’m hyper-aware that I’m half-naked in his bedroom.
“I should go,” I murmur as I turn towards the door.
“Or you could stay, hang out for a bit.”
I pause with my hand on the handle and glance over my shoulder. “You want to hang out with me?” I can’t keep the scepticism out of my voice.
He shrugs. “Why not?”
“Because you’re you,” I wave a hand between the two of us. Him, the six-foot-two Adonis football star who could get any woman he wanted, and me, the short, curvy nerd. This is why I never wanted to meet up with him outside of Euphoria. “And I’m… me.”
Luca frowns. “Why do you say it like that? I know we haven’t really spoken in the last four years”—If only he knew—“and I feel bad about that, but I want to make up for it. You’re easy to talk to, and I’m still too amped to go to sleep. What do you say? Want to keep me company?”
I’m playing with fire.
I should leave.
I need to stay away from him.
He’ll be gone in two weeks, and I can move on, forget about him.
All I need to do is open the door and leave.
Only… I can’t.
My hand drops from the handle, and I turn and lean back against the door. I cross my arms over my chest, but the move only makes my T-shirt rise to the top of my thighs, so I quickly drop them back to my side. “What do you have in mind?”
My mouth goes dry when Luca unbuttons his shirt and I catch a glimpse of his tan skin.
I can’t help but remember what it’s like to run my tongue over those rippling muscles.
Before he can catch me staring and kick me out for being a creep, I avert my eyes and study the assortment of soccer memorabilia lining the shelves beneath his window.
There’s a signed soccer ball sitting on a stand, and some framed photos of Luca at various ages with who I assume are some of his favourite players. I move closer for a better look, but without really knowing anything about the sport, I have no idea who they are.
My lips turn up into an amused smile at the creepy bobble-head figurines. I pick one up and turn it over in my hand, trying to ignore the sound of his zipper releasing behind me. “You really love soccer, huh?” I choke out.
“Football,” he corrects me with a chuckle.
I screw my nose up. “We live in Australia. Football here is rugby league or Aussie rules.” Something soft hits the back of my head and a stuffed soccer ball lands at my feet.
Forgetting that Luca is in the middle of getting changed, I spin around with a look of outrage.
“Did you seriously just throw that at me?”
The sexy smirk on his face has my heart stuttering, but the sight of him in nothing but a pair of boxers causes my brain to short circuit and my pussy to clench and tingle in the most delicious way.
Fuck, his body is incredible. All I can think about right now is what it feels like when it’s worshipping my body.
“Stop talking blasphemy in my presence and I won’t feel the need to resort to violence,” he says with a wink as he pulls on a pair of grey sweatpants.
I manage an unintelligible noise in response, and I hate the way my cheeks flush. I’ve had this man on his knees crawling for me, yet the act of having a simple conversation with him turns me into a bumbling idiot. This is another reason why I was reluctant to meet up with him outside of Euphoria.
Luca crosses the room and takes the bobble-head from my hands. He stares down at it with a sad smile. “This was the last thing Mum bought me before she died.”
“She’d be proud of you.”
He bumps his shoulder against mine. “Thanks. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”
I bite my lip. “Can I tell you a secret?”
My question elicits a raised brow and a cheeky grin. “Please.”
I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I know absolutely nothing about soccer.”
He bends and scoops the soccer ball off the ground before bonking me on the head with it. “Clearly. It’s football.”
“So, maybe you should school me.” I shove him playfully and we both laugh.
Luca places the bobble-head figurine back on his desk and walks over to the bed.
He makes himself comfortable on one side, patting the space next to him before settling back into the pillows with his hands tucked behind his head.
“Come on,” he coaxes me when I don’t move.
“I don’t bite… hard.” He smirks, and I roll my eyes as I pick up a pillow and hit him with it despite my pussy clenching at the thought of him biting into my body.
This is so wrong.
“That’s reassuring,” I deadpan as I climb onto the bed next to him, making sure to leave a safe distance between us.
Every fibre of my body is hyper-aware of his proximity, and I struggle to concentrate on anything other than reminding myself to breathe.
I know this man’s body so intimately—the way his muscles contract under my touch, the feel of his tongue meeting mine in slow, sure strokes, the delicious noises he makes before his release.
My heart is thumping so damn loud in my ears, I’m terrified he can hear it.
Despite feeling like I’m about to combust, I try to play it cool. “You’re such an idiot.”
“But a loveable idiot, right?” he says with an exaggerated pout.
“Keep telling yourself that, football star,” I tease.
He laughs, and the sound is so carefree and real that it makes me reconsider coming clean to him.
The words are on the tip of my tongue. It’s me.
I’m the one you were looking for tonight.
But I can’t. The moment I tell him, the bubble will burst, and I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes when he realises he was searching for me this whole time.
I lean back against the pillows, and the distinct scent of clean male engulfs me. “Teach me, oh wise one.”
Luca shoots me a sceptical look. “You don’t want to listen to me talk about football.”
“You’re stuck celebrating your awesome news with me, so if I’m going to reach the right level of enthusiasm to be your wingwoman on this, I need to know everything there is to know about football.”
“Everything?” he asks with a smirk.
“Everything,” I reply seriously. “Don’t leave anything out. I’m a blank canvas.”
He shakes his head but starts going through the basics of football—how many players are on the pitch, the positions, the rules. As he talks, I turn onto my side to watch him, and a small smile tugs at my lips at how animated he is. Football is clearly his passion.
“And this team that you’re going to play for… they’re good?” I ask.
Luca grins. “Middlesbrough? Yeah, they’re good. They’re a Championship team, which is just below the EPL.”
“EPL?” I scrunch my brow.
“The English Premier League. It’s the highest level of football in the UK.” He blows out a deep breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’ll be playing with some incredibly talented footballers.”
“I may not know much about football, but you looked pretty good out there tonight.”
“Thanks, but it’s a pretty big leap from Beckford U to a Championship team.”
I hate the doubt that has crept into his voice. “They wouldn’t have signed you if they didn’t think you were up to it.”
He stares down at me, his head cocked to the side. “Why does this feel so easy between us? It’s making me regret the last four years.”
You and me both.
I can’t speak around the lump forming in my throat, though, so I simply shrug.
Luca’s hazel gaze is intense, and I look away first, fighting to hide the emotions that are threatening to overwhelm me.
It wouldn’t be fair to Luca. This is his dream.
I won’t stand in his way. It’s better that he doesn’t know who I really am.