25. The Future Conversation #3
"Say it again," he whispered, and I heard the vulnerability beneath the command, the man who had built walls so high he had forgotten what lay beyond them.
"I want us," I repeated, arching up to kiss him. I tasted myself on his lips and wanted more—of him, of this, of everything we had finally stopped denying.
He groaned into my mouth, a sound that vibrated through my chest where our bodies pressed together, and then he was moving again—faster, deeper, his hips snapping against mine with a force that drove the breath from my lungs.
I met him thrust for thrust, my heels digging harder into his back, my fingers tangled in his hair to keep his mouth close to mine.
"Don't hold back," I told him.
His eyes locked on mine. "Neither do you."
He delivered, angling his hips to hit that place inside me that made my vision blur at the edges. His thumb pressed harder, circling with relentless precision, and I felt the second orgasm building—not the slow roll of before, but something sharper, more desperate, coiling tight in my belly.
"Luca," I gasped, my voice unrecognizable, broken open. "I'm going to?—"
"Let go," he commanded, his voice rough with his own restraint. "Give it to me, Riley. Give me everything."
I did. The pleasure crested and crashed through me, my body clamping down around him, my cries lost in the hollow of his throat where I pressed my open mouth.
He groaned, long and guttural, the vibration traveling through both our bodies as he chased his own release, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate, unbeautiful in their need, and more beautiful for it.
"I feel you," he panted against my ear, his rhythm stuttering, breaking. "Riley, I feel you?—"
My name tore from him as his control finally broke. He shuddered above me, then lowered his weight carefully, as if even now some part of him was afraid of asking me to carry too much.
I held him there, my arms wrapped around his shoulders as his breath came in harsh gusts against my neck. Gradually, the tension drained from his body, leaving only a slight tremor beneath my hands.
He shifted onto one elbow and brushed the damp hair from my forehead. When he eased away, I tightened my arms around him, unwilling to let the closeness disappear with the rest of it.
Luca settled beside me and pulled me against his chest, one arm beneath my shoulders.
His fingers traced slow paths over my skin as my breathing finally steadied.
The bedroom doors stood open to the terrace, the curtains stirring in the night breeze.
Somewhere beyond them, the ocean kept folding into shore.
He reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and held it out.
"Drink."
I took the glass, smiling into the rim. "Nothing says romance like a hydration order."
"You're dehydrated."
"And suddenly I'm dating a very controlling sports drink commercial."
His mouth brushed my temple. "You're cherished. The hydration is part of the package."
The joke dissolved before I could make another one.
I set the glass down and turned into him, resting my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, grounding in a way I still wasn't used to trusting.
"Any regrets?" he asked.
"About you or the job?"
"Either."
"No." I rested my chin on his chest. "Although your smallest shareholder did conduct a highly biased campaign."
"A successful campaign."
"She had crafts and emotional manipulation. I never stood a chance."
His mouth curved. "She gets that from me."
"The manipulation?"
"The charm."
"Debatable."
He kissed me again, softer this time, with none of the desperation from before. Just warmth. Steadiness. The kind that made room instead of taking it.
He shifted as if to get out of bed.
I tightened my arm around his waist. "Where are you going?"
"To make sure you don't accuse me of distracting you from business."
"Luca, we're naked."
"I'm aware."
He crossed into the study and returned with the folder.
I stared at him as he slid it onto the bed between us. "You brought contracts back to bed."
"A business plan."
"Of course. God forbid we experience an emotion without supporting documentation."
A warm, soft grin slid across his face. "The documentation protects the emotion."
"We start at sunrise," he said. "Your lawyer gets the documents first."
"And I sign only after every terrifying legal comment is resolved."
"Exactly."
I looked down at my name waiting on the page, then at the man beside me.
Outside this room, Victor still knew exactly where the resort was weakest. The cancellations were real, the legal bills were growing, and saying yes to Luca had put my future inside the same target.
But I wasn't being absorbed into Luca's future. I was helping design what came next.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand.
Luca glanced at the screen, and something in his expression tightened.
"What is it?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. Then he turned the phone toward me.
A message from the yacht broker filled the screen.
The buyer increased his offer. He wants an answer by tomorrow.
I looked from the message to Luca. "You're selling the boat?"
His gaze stayed on mine.
"I'm considering what matters more."