He shakes his head. “Nah. I had a few friends, but no one I felt like keeping in contact with. My parents… I don’t know. My dad and I used to be close, but he’s been distant for years. My mom, I think she honestly hates me. Or just hates being a mom.”
I know what it’s like to have shitty parents. Really shitty parents. “Well, we’re all here if you’ll let us help. And we’re pretty good at fighting the bad shit, especially together. It’s kind of a house-wide love language.” I tilt my head as a thought comes to me. “What’s your love language, Luca?”
After a few seconds of having an adorably confused look on his face, he says, “I don’t really know.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to help you figure it out.”
He leans in but stops so our noses are almost touching. “Can I kiss you? I should have asked before.”
“Yes. And permission to kiss without asking again granted, too.”
His lips turn up into a little smile before they meet mine. His kiss is gentle this time. And it’s sweet as hell but I don’t want sweet. So I kiss him back like I don’t have a lip that’s taking forever to heal. I kiss him like I’m taking that first breath after not being able to breathe. He moans, and I slip my tongue into his mouth. He meets it with his and we lose ourselves in the kiss. When he pulls away to catch his breath, I tug on his lower lip with my teeth. He lets loose something like a growl, and his lips are back on mine. I think maybe he likes a little bite of pain with his pleasure. I’m here for it. We kiss each other like we’re air, like we’re food, like we’re the essence of fucking life.
But then the bedroom door opens down the hall, and Luca jumps away from me like he’s on fire. Which maybe he is because I can see the outline of his erection in his sweats.
“Shit. Fuck.” He stands and adjusts his dick before Lil walks in, then tosses the bean bag in the corner and storms to his room with a grumbled, “Night.”
All without looking at me once.
The man is infuriating. And hot.
“What’s his problem?” Lil asks, glancing down the hall.
“If only I knew,” I say, shaking my head.
Lil turns my way and narrows her eyes. “Is your lip bugging you? It looks swollen. Actually, they both look swollen…”
“Nope.” I jump to my feet and hurry away. “Shower time for me.”
Chapter 26
Clit talk
Ariana
“Ladies, get dressed. We’re going out,” Mom says with a big smile as she walks into the kitchen on Sunday morning.
“Where? And Why?” Lil asks, an eyebrow raised like she’s expecting to be tricked into getting vaccines at the doctor’s office. That hasn’t happened since we were kids.
“Hair and nails. I made us all appointments. Ari’s pink is fading, you’ve been talking about getting a trim, and we haven’t had pedicures in ages. I thought we could use some pampering.”
“Yeah, okay, I can get on board with that.” My pink has faded a lot in the last couple of weeks.
“Me, too. I’ll go tell Luca. This is totally one of the things on our list of things to do that he’ll hate,” Lil says gleefully, tapping her fingers like a super villain.
“It’ll just be us girls. Well, I’m sure Carlo and Ford will follow along in their own car, but your dad took Luca with him today.”
A wave of anxiety rushes through me at her words. I’ve gotten used to Luca being around. I don’t like the idea of leaving the house without him. Which is weird for me.
“That’s not fair. We had plans to torture that boy as much as possible.” Lil picks up her phone and starts narrating a text to Dad, complaining about him stealing our babysitter.
I sip my coffee and think about why I want Luca around so damn much. Mom glances at me out of the corner of my eye. Shit, that look means… something. I don’t know what, and I don’t think I want to find out, so I jump off the counter and tug on Lil’s hand. “Let’s go, bitch. These toes aren’t going to paint themselves.”
I pout in the back seat of Mom’s car because she insists on driving. We spend hours at our favorite salon. My pink peekaboos are stripped and replaced with a blue that I realize reminds me of Luca’s eyes after they’re done. I pick a matching gel for my toes because why the hell not at this point?
Gel on my toes is fine, but it gives me an icky, trapped feeling on my fingers most of the time. I like to be able to pick polish off and prefer to just paint them whenever the fuck I want to. So, while Lil and Mom get manicures to match their pedicures, I head next door to the tattoo shop, where all the DeVilles go. Ford follows me, rolling his eyes with a lazy grin on his face, then stands just inside the door like the good soldier and watchful uncle he is.
I pierce the other side of my nose with another stud and a small hoop under it like I’ve been wanting for a few months. On impulse, I get a few tiny studs put in one earlobe above the lowest hoops, like a miniature constellation.
