“I know you, Em. Fancy things don’t impress you.” Luca flicks the turn signal, and suddenly, the city fades behind us. The streets shrink, sidewalks become neater—his neighborhood. We’re close to his place.
“So why’d you pick that restaurant? None of my coworkers knew which fork to use out of the six options.” I grin, picturing Sam analyzing the table setup.
“I didn’t mean to make anyone uncomfortable,” he says quietly, thoughtfully. “I just remembered it had one of the best sunsets in Miami. I wanted you to experience it.”
He presses a button on the roof of his car. As we pull into his driveway, the garage door opens. The mansion glows with soft ground lights, and palm trees gently sway with the ocean breeze.
“I sent Lauren, like, three photos,” I chuckle. “It really was beautiful. Thank you.”
He turns off the engine and looks at me, intense.
I don’t ask what he’s thinking; I’m a coward. I’ve always been able to read Luca like glass. He wasn’t expressive with most people, but with me? His thoughts used to pour out. These looks terrify me because they hold everything—desire, intensity, possession. That pull we always had. It’s too easy to fall.
“I’ve been fantasizing about having you in my bed all day,” he whispers, brushing my cheek.
I swallow hard, fighting the spell. “Even during the meeting?”
“Especially during that meeting.” He kisses me softly, briefly, and then steps out of the car without another word, leaving me stunned.
I follow him before he can open my door.
“That was my job,” he protests.
“I have working legs and arms, so…” I shrug playfully.
Luca studies me, then grabs my hand and leads me inside.
Without a word, with tension crackling in the air, he guides me upstairs. As the bedroom door opens, anticipation builds. I walk straight to the balcony where I once watched him—like some storm god by the sea—and inhale the salty air.
He appears behind me seconds later, hands braced on the railing, caging me in. I feel his forehead rest on my shoulder, his breath hot and fast. “No woman turns me on the way you do.” His hands slide to my waist, pulling me back against him—letting me feel him. “No one ever brought me to my knees but Emma Green.”
I tilt my head, baring my neck. He claims it instantly, his mouth greedy. His hands cup my breasts as he groans into my skin.
“Lamb…”
“Yes, Gargoyle?”
The waves crash behind us, a wild rhythm to match the tension building inside.
Luca spins me to face him and kisses me with pure, raw need. I match his pace, hands gripping his back, hungry. “I’m going to worship your body all night. Are you ready for that?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t wait. Grabbing my hand, he leads me back to the bed and is on me before I can catch a breath, tearing off my clothes.
Still wearing his briefs, he presses against me, creating a friction that burns. His moans are right at my ear, his hands tender on my face.
There’s something glinting in his eyes—a thought, a memory—but it vanishes when he trails a hand between my legs. “Already ready for me, lamb?” he teases.
I glide my hand over his cock, rock-hard under my palm. “Not the only one, apparently.”
“Nope. Feel what you do to me?” He covers my hand with his.
I nod, licking my lips.
He watches that movement like a man starved. “Enough foreplay,” he growls. He shoves my panties aside and sinks into me. “Fuck…” he groans into my neck. “So damn good.”
“So—” I gasp, the words fading as pleasure takes over.
