His fingers trace over my cheekbone and down to my chin. My eyes flutter closed, and I stand in the circle of his arms, frozen, eager for his next touch. “Boundaries,” I whisper.
“I promise,” he breathes, “to be on my best behavior.”
I don’t believe you.But the words stick in my throat. They only form in my head. I swallow and try to muster my voice and any sense, but Lucca’s sweet breath warms my skin as he closesin, pressing a kiss to my neck. He lingers there, as if he’s checking for a pulse. I’m not sure I have one anymore.
And when I speak, it doesn’t sound like the words rehearsed in my head. “You’re awfully good at that.”
“And you’re good at allowing me to do that.”
I hum—when I should be resisting.
I hum.
This man is a hypnotist. I’m simply his victim.
“This feels like a good boundary,” he whispers, his lips fluttering softly at my ear. I don’t care that he’s formed supernatural powers. I might be a willing victim.
I cup his head in both my hands, press my body to his, and draw his lips to mine.
I had no intention of kissing Lucca today. Or ever again So why does this kiss feel like the kiss I’ve been waiting for my entire life?
His lips tease mine open, and I am too eager for a woman who spoke of boundaries just minutes ago.
I kiss Lucca until my strength is gone, and death is now free to take me.
His breaths are heavy when we part. Lucca leans his forehead to mine. “Yes, you’re awfully good at that.”
Thirty-Eight
I like Lucca.
As much as I want to deny it, the total loss of my mind and limbs is proof that I do.
I came home and confessed the whole thing to Lindy, hoping she would lecture me and knock a little sense back into me.
She did not.
Telling Lindy every little detail made me hungry for more of Lucca. Then, last night, I texted him and told him he should come over today.
Itexted him.
See? Complete loss of brain function.
Lindy pokes her head into my room. I’m still in a towel, with dripping hair. “Can I borrow your navy shirt?” She taps her chest. “The one with the buttons.”
“Um. Sure. Why?” I don’t remember her saying anything about Brent today.
Her eyes bug. “Hello. Lucca’s coming over. Wyatt and I have to look our best. When will he be here, anyway?”
My jaw falls, but no words escape. She’s getting ready for Lucca? Wyatt, too?
“Wyatt wants to wear the jersey Lucca gave him. Do you think that’s too much?” Her nose wrinkles. “When did you say he’d be here again?”
I swallow. “I didn’t.”
She riffles through my closet until she’s found the shirt she wants. “So, when?”
I clear my throat, nerves tapdancing over my skin. “Uh. Two.”
