Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
So close I can count the few freckles on the bridge of her nose.
Everything feels like foreplay now…
“Thanks,” her mouth seems to say.
Nova leans closer, tits brushing against my chest, lips pressing along my jawline, a whisper of a touch that sets everything inside me on fire.
We’re in the grocery store for fuck’s sake—it’s not supposed to be arousing. Is it?
12
nova
By the time I pull into my spot and kill the engine, my hands are still tingling. Not from nerves, exactly. From memory.
Luca’s headlights fade behind me as he parks in the space across the lot intended for guests; I don’t move right away. I sit there, gripping the steering wheel like it might ground me, like it can hold back the flood of everything I’m trying not to replay in vivid, aching detail.
His hands on my waist.
The rough brush of his knuckles grazing my skin.
The way he leaned in behind me like his body belonged pressed against mine…
And God, the way his voice cracked when he told me to stop teasing him.
His command was so weak. The literal exact opposite of stop.
He wants me so bad.
An excited shiver works its way up my spine, and I press my lips together as I glance over at the grocery bags Luca set on my passenger seat.
“Get it together—stop being nervous,” I tell myself. “You invited him to your place. You started this.”
This is your own damn fault!
Poppy would die right now if she knew I’d invited him back to my place after insisting I wouldn’t. She will be so fucking proud when I tell her.
I resist the urge to message her, knowing it would trigger an onslaught of rapid-fire texts, and her foaming at the mouth if I don’t respond immediately.
Luca is beside my car, unloading the two grocery bags and we fall into step, heading toward the elevator in the parking garage. Our arms brush occasionally, quiet stretching between us.
But it’s not awkward.
It’s thick, if that makes sense.
Like every word we’re not saying is hanging in the air with us.
I press the elevator button; when the doors slide open, we step in.
Luca stands close. I can feel the heat radiating off him like a furnace…
The doors slide shut.
The silence hums.
Luca shifts, the bags rustling in his arms. We touch, our hips bumping, but this time neither of us move away. Not that there’s all that much space in this small space…
“You always this quiet after luring a man into your lair?” he asks, voice low and teasing.
“My lady lair.” I nod. “Yes, I don’t want to make any sudden movements and scare you off.”
He snorts. “Not likely.”
The elevator dings as it passes the tenth floor. Nine more to go…
His voice drops. “You nervous?”
“Not at all,” I lie way too fast.
He just grins. “That’s cute.”
The doors slide open and I flee the cramped elevator car, leading the way to my door with way too much energy. Luca chuckles under his breath behind me, enjoying my nervous verve.
“Do I get a tour?” he asks as I fish around my messenger bag for my keys.
“Of course. Once we take the groceries out of the bags.”
I shove the heavy door open and step inside first, the cool blast of AC and the lingering scent of my Amalfi Lemon candle wrapping around us.
Luca follows me through the threshold, bags in hand, and barely takes two steps in before pausing mid-stride.
He lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”
“This your place?” he asks, turning in a slow circle, taking in the exposed brick walls, high ceilings with raw beams, and the afternoon sunlight spilling through oversized industrial windows, warming the wide-plank hardwood floors.
A smile tugs at my lips.
It’s impressive, I know.
I take the grocery bags from his hands and plop them on the kitchen island.
He wanders over, fingers brushing the edge of the cold stone. “This is insane. Like, insane-insane. Rent must be—”
“I don’t pay it,” I confess, unable to look him in the eyes when I say it.
It’s not like I’m proud.
“Oh?”
“Gio,” I say, already rooting through a bag, “used to live in the penthouse upstairs. Bought it and this apartment then decided the suburbs were more his speed after Austin got pregnant and now…” I clear my throat. “It’s just me in the building.”
Luca leans against the counter, clearly impressed. “Remind me to ask him to adopt me. My house sucks.”
“Well. Play your cards right and I’ll let you hang out here every now and again.” I pull the lemons from the supplies and add them to a bowl in the middle of my island, then the rosemary. Out comes the chicken, parm, and olive oil…
I dust the invisible dirt off my hands and rest them on my hips. “Tour?” I ignore the flutter in my heart. “There’s not much to it, actually—the apartment is mainly living room.”