“Uh huh,” Luca says, cleaning up quietly.
After he mops up the excess water and dries the floor with a towel, he disappears to the back room. When he returns a few minutes later, his hair is damp at the temples with sweat. A ripple of awareness shoots through me. Luca is sexy. And important to me. How did I let this happen?
“You okay?” he asks, looking me over, a furrow in his brow.
I nod, the lump returning to my throat unexpectedly. There’s nothing wrong, but I don’t think my wings are finished leaking for the day.
“Are you sure?” Luca narrows his eyes, clearly not believing me.
I open my mouth to speak, although I’m not sure if I’m going to tell him to get lost or come back to my place to hold me while I sob. Then Imani squeezes my hands twice and nothing else matters. I pull her up and brush the water droplets off her face.
“Here,” Luca says, handing her a clean, dry towel. She buries her face in the fabric for a few seconds, then drops it to face us.
“Okay?” I ask, amazed by how much healthier she looks. Her dark skin is glowing, although the magical amber light has faded to a more natural level.
Imani nods, relief obvious in every line of her body. She leans forward, bending her neck toward me, and I mirror her until our foreheads touch. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“Same time next week?” I ask, only half kidding. She can’t keep doing this, and we both know it.
“I’ll let you know.” She stands, her water-logged clothes dripping into the tub. “This was a good start.” Wrapping the towel around herself, Imani gets out, but she isn’t in a desperate hurry to dry off. I’ve never seen anyone be so effortlessly beautiful while soaking wet.
“Do you want me to come home with you?” I ask, doing my best to make my voice nonchalant. From Imani’s eye roll, I don’t succeed.
“I’m good alone,” she says. “See you both tomorrow?”
“Sure thing.” I smile and Luca nods.
Imani disappears into the dressing room where we all keep a spare outfit or two stored, and I contemplate how I can keep checking in on her without being a nag.
“Up,” Luca says, holding a second towel out for me. “You look like a prune.”
I pretend to be offended while knowing he’s absolutely right. Imani may be twice as gorgeous after an hour underwater, but I feel like a drowned rat. Standing, I cringe as the cold, soggy clothes stick to my skin. My nipples are hard as glass, poking through my paper-thin shirt. Disgusted, I yank the wet fabric off, throw it in the tub, then snatch the towel from Luca.
“You’re cold,” he says, his jaw tightly clenched.
I smirk at him, perversely pleased he noticed at all. Friend or not, when my nipples are out, I want them to be admired. “What gave me away?” I ask innocently.
“The shivering,” he deadpans.
With as much dignity as I can muster, I step out of the tub and wrap the towel around myself. “That was rude,” I say, shooting him a glare.
Luca smirks at me. “You already know you have nice tits.”
“Yeah, but I don’t mind hearing about it every once in a while.”
“Seriously?” He snorts, and I raise my chin and begin to walk away. “Celine... wait. You want the truth?”
I plant my hands on my hips and stare him down. “Obviously.”
“You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen in my entire godsdamn life. A man could be jobless and broke and happily occupy himself solely with your tits all day, every day. Is that what you want to hear?”
My mouth goes dry, and I shift my weight as Luca’s huskytone runs through my body like an electric current. “You don’t have to sound mad about it.” I smile as I replay his angry compliment.
“Don’t I?” he demands.
I raise my eyebrows. “I can’t imagine why.”
“They aren’t my tits to play with, are they?” Luca asks. “I get to be a little pissed about that.”
