“You don’t actually like him.” He says it like a fact, and that, more than anything, ticks me off.
“Don’t tell me who I like.”
Lucca leans a millimeter closer, and the back of my legs bend, dipping so that I almost fall to a seat on the lid of this toilet, but he wraps one arm around my back, catching me before I can plop to my bottom.
He pulls me upright, his right arm locked around me. With his head dipped toward mine, his nose skiffs the edge of my jaw. “You don’t like him—not romantically,” he whispers this time.
I swallow, my pulse drumming in my ears. “No. I don’t,” I whisper. The words just slip out. I never intended to say as much.
With the smallest twist of his head, Lucca’s warm, sweet breath wafts over my lips and chin. I’m a statue, too afraid to move, too afraid I’ll wake up from this hallucination.
I feel the pressure as his fingers ball into my shirt at my back. His eyes, dark and rich, lock with mine. He hugs me tightto his side, and then he closes that tiny gap between us, covering my lips with his.
His lips, gentle and alluring, move over mine. I lose my head with the tenderness of a kiss I never saw coming. He tastes like cookies, and his lips feel like a caress, like a warm current, like a song.
Holy mother of Moses, this man can kiss.
And—
“Whoa,” I bark, pushing back on his chest and falling to the lid of the toilet. My breaths are hitched and heavy, and my head is light.
“Maggie?”
I hold one hand out in a ‘stop’ sign toward him, forcing him to back up until he hits the door. “I need to catch my breath,” I wheeze. The room spins, and I shut my eyes.
He leans against the closed door, crossing his arms. “I know I’m good, but?—”
“Shut up,” I say, bending over and placing my head between my knees. I pull in air through my nose, trying to calm my heart, trying to catch my breath. Bent over, I wave a hand in front of my face, fanning myself.
And then—black hair, cocoa eyes, and pink lips poke into my view. “Do you need a drink? I have this effect sometimes.”
With two fingers on his forehead, I push his head out of my view and breathe, my head still between my knees. “No. You are not having an effect on me?—”
“It seems like I might be.”
I fling my head upward. “You’re not!” But it’s a bad idea; I’m immediately dizzy. The room is spinning. I might fall right off this toilet seat. So, I reach out a hand and steady myself using Lucca.
I shut my eyes, and when I open them back up, he’s squatting in front of me.
“Here,” he says, taking one of my hands and placing it on his shoulder. Then he does the same with the other. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.”
Sure, I’d like to slug him, but I’m working on not passing out at the moment. So, I pull in a breath through my nose and exhale through my mouth, all on Lucca’s command.
“That’s it,” he says, his tone soft, his accent sweet.
When it seems that I can breathe all on my own, I open my eyes. He’s still squatting, I’m still holding onto him. With my head a little clearer, I ask, “Why did you do that?”
His brow furrows, and he looks at me as if I’m speaking another language, one he doesn’t speak. Lucca has the gall to not understand what I’m referring to.
I flick his right shoulder, right where I’m holding myself up. “Kiss me, Lucca. Why would you do that? You act like an idiot over Mark, and then you kiss me? In a bathroom, of all places!”
“It isn’t obvious?” he says, the back of his hand brushing over the apple of my cheek. “I adore you, Maggie. I’m not sure I realized it myself until tonight. But I like you. And honestly, I’m pretty sure you like me, too.”
“Don’t tell me who I like,” I grumble, smacking his shoulder again. “Besides, you don’t like me. You’re just infatuated because I am the first woman not to fall for your antics.”
“I don’t have antics.”
“You do,” I say.
