I hum, nuzzling the side of his face. “Quit,” he mumbles halfheartedly, but he presses his face closer to me, leaning into my touch. “You’re distracting me.”
“Am I?” I drop my face, letting my lips linger over his pulse point.
“Yeah.” The word is nearly whispered and breathless.
I pause. “Should I stop?”
“No.”
Well, that’s all the permission I need. I spin Luca in my arms, then grip his hips and lift him up, planting him on the counter, carefully avoiding his dough and the flour. He giggles. Full-ongiggles, and I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound in the world.
Luca spreads his thighs, and I step between them as flour-covered hands grip my shoulders and pull me closer. I’m not sure if I leanedin or if Luca dragged me down, but between one breath and the next, we’re kissing, and I’m lost.
The taste of his happiness on my tongue is a drug in itself, the warmth of his body my new favorite thing to feel. The inferno that builds inside me could rival even the fire from today, and just like today’s fire, I have no chance of putting it out.
The whiny noise that vibrates in his throat has my cock swelling, pressing against his. With a sharp gasp, he places a hand on my chest and firmly pushes me away. “Dinner. If I overcook the chicken, I’m gonna be mad. There’s a system to the timing, and you’re throwing me way off.”
That makes me smile. “Oh, I’m so very sorry.”
Luca rolls his eyes. “You will be if you make me ruin the chicken.”
I’m pretty sure I’d eat burned cardboard if Luca made it. I’m convinced I’d do anything to make him happy. I help him down from the counter, but I stay close by, watching as he takes his time slicing the dumplings into small pieces. “Why are you doing it like that?”
He smiles, using a spatula to scoop them off the counter and onto a plate. “I like them thin. If they’re too thick, it’ll take them too long to cook, and you’ll end up with dry chicken and doughy dumplings.”
“Interesting,” I muse, leaning over his shoulder to watch as he drops them one by one into the pot, stirring as he goes. “You’re good at this.”
He shrugs. “I like it. I’ve always loved cooking, you know? It’s fun and relaxing. Or at least it used to be. It’s nice doing something because I want to, not because Ihaveto.”
“I’ll never make you do something you don’t want,” I say, pressinga kiss to his cheek.
“I know.” He finishes up putting the rest of the dumplings in the pot, then covers it. “Just needs to cook. Should be good in about ten to fifteen minutes.” He steps away from the stove, then leans against the counter and studies me. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
“We couldn’t stop the fire. Total loss. Thankfully, no loss of life.”
Luca makes a sad noise. “And that’s why I want to take care of you tonight. I know how hard these days are on you.”
And he does. We didn’t talk much when he was with Damien, but when we did, it was like nothing had changed. Like he was still just my best friend, my Luca. It feels like everything has changed now, though, but not in a bad way. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He flashes me a smile. “Go sit down, and I’ll finish up and bring you a bowl.” His eyes dart down, then he smirks. “Maybe clean the flour off yourself first.”
I shake my head with a laugh, gripping his waist and pulling him snug against my body. He tilts his head back, pupils dilating as he stares up at me. God, he’s so beautiful. I love seeing the flash of desire in his eyes. Dropping my hand, I let it coast over his ass and down to his upper thigh, then I lean in and steal a quick kiss. “You should probably change, baby. I’m not the only one covered in flour.”
His breath hitches, and he surges forward, colliding with me as he seals his lips over mine. A moan breaks free of my throat, and I hold him tighter, closer, but at this point, I’m convinced close will never be close enough.
When I break the kiss, he’s panting. Smug, I turn and head for the bedroom to wipe the flour off myself, and when I come backinto the room, Luca has stripped down to his briefs.
I nearly swallow my tongue, liquid heat swimming through my veins as my cock fills.
His eyes find me instantly, then drop to where my cock is tenting my boxers. “Happy to see me?”
I groan. “That’s such a bad line.”
The giggle he lets out has me laughing too. “I know. Come on, time to eat.”
He carries two steaming bowls into the living room and sits down, and I join him. When I’m settled, he hands my bowl to me, then leans back against the cushion and props his feet in my lap.
It all feels very… comfortable. Familiar, almost, and yet not at all.
