Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Before all of this, I honestly can’t remember the last time we ate together in such a leisurely manner, cleaning up the kitchen as a team. Being so domestic. I’ve left the cooking and cleaning to Luca so many times in the past, I find myself adding it to the mental list of Reasons I Was a Shitty Wife.
With a slow exhale, I wipe down the counters and then rinse the sponge, staring out the window at the side yard my husband has so perfectly cultivated. The lawn is neat and a healthy green; foxglove, dahlias, and zinnias border the house… bright, stunning flowers whose names I only know because he’s always talking about plants, and I must absorb details even when I’m not actively listening. Another reason.
I startle when Luca steps up behind me, kissing my shoulder.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“Thinking how awesome you are and how not awesome I’ve been.”
Luca turns me to face him and cages me against the kitchen counter. “I’ve only ever known you to be awesome.”
I grin at him wryly. “Don’t worry, your memory is returning.”
He doesn’t laugh or even smile at this. He stares at me like I’m a frustrating mystery and then leans in, pressing his lips to mine. Things are so good right now, but if he remembers how many times I disappointed him—
“Let it go,” he says into the kiss. “Emery, you have to let all that go.”
“I want to. I really do. But one day you’ll remember, and you might not want to let it go,” I say, and my eyes flutter closed as he kisses me again. “I think I’m worried about getting my hopes up that we can really start over.”
“Try.”
I close my eyes, trying to do just that. I try to live in this moment, sinking into sensation, sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck, feeling the solid heat of him pressing into me.
“We aren’t the same people we were before all of this happened,” he says, kissing along my jaw, down my neck. “If I get to decide who I want to be, you do, too.”
Nodding, I stretch closer, tilting my head to give him better access to my lips, exhaling an involuntary moan as his tongue slides over mine, teasing at first and then sensuously, a deep, claiming kiss.
Luca takes a step backward and then another, drawing me forward to follow, and leads me out of the kitchen and into the living room. He backs into the couch, sitting down and guiding me to straddle him as he stares up at me. “I might not remember everything,” he says, “but I know I missed you.”
I lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, humming a quiet “Yeah?”
He nods, his warm hands resting on my thighs. Only his thumbs stroke back and forth; the rest of him remains still beneath me, as if he’s savoring the ache of waiting.
“You always do this,” I say, kissing along his neck.
“What’s that?”
“Pretend you’re patient.”
With his strong hands, he grabs my hips, bringing them flush against his. I gasp, rocking against him as he stretches to return his lips to mine, his breath hot against my mouth.
“And then you prove I’m not?” he asks.
I roll over him slowly, back and forth, watching the way his pupils expand until they’re blown out and black, his grip tightening on my hips.
“I missed you, too,” I tell him. “You have no idea how much.”
“I’m right here. We don’t have to miss each other anymore.”
Beneath me, he’s urgently hard, aligned right where I need him. One big hand slips under my T-shirt, fingers dancing up my spine; the other grips my hip, encouraging the slow, teasing rhythm. The silence between us stretches out, warm and full.
Our lips meet, mouths open and hungry. The slick pleasure of his tongue teasing mine makes the ache between my legs bloom into something heavy and tangible. Luca brings his hand from my hip to my jaw, cupping my face and pulling back slightly to look at me.
“How often did we do this?” he asks, tracing the pad of his thumb along my lower lip.
“A lot.”
His touch drags back and forth across my skin. “But when?”
“Every Sunday,” I say. “During the week it was always in the middle of the night.”
“I would have guessed that.”
“It’s not going to be like that anymore,” I say quietly. “I mean, I still want it to be a lot. Just also when it’s light out.”
Luca’s full mouth curves into a smile. “I think you’re as addicted to me as I have always been to you.”
Stretching, I slide my lips over his, back and forth and back and forth, until they part and the kiss deepens again, his tongue sliding warm and teasing over mine. His groan vibrates between us, sending an electric pulse directly between my legs.