Ashton shoves Luca away, and they both get back up onto their feet.
“Why the hell are you fighting?” I glare at Luca, demanding to know what’s gotten into him.
“Why is he tutoring you? If you need help, you come to me!” Luca’s clenching his teeth and I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“Are you—jealous?” I can’t fathom what Luca has to be jealous about; he doesn’t even want to be near me. “He’s just trying to rile you up. Nothing deplorable is happening between us. He’s just helping me with my homework. Ashton took statistics last year.”
“So did I.” Luca’s top lip twitches with a snarl. “If you need help, I’m your husband; I’ll help you.”
Oh, he’s definitely jealous. His muscles flex in his arm, and his jaw tightens.
It’s actually kind of hot, not that I’d confess that to him right now.
He’s steaming and has wanted nothing to do with me since the day of the wedding.
Is this Ashton’s way of trying to help, stirring up trouble to get Luca to notice me again?
“Okay,” I say and shove everything into my backpack. “Can you help me tonight with my statistics homework, Luca?”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “After Zeke is in bed.”
It takes a while to get Zeke down. He keeps climbing into my bed in his room and wanting cuddles. I lie down with him in the adult bed, getting him to settle in and shut his eyes. I rub his back, finally relieved when his breathing evens and he falls asleep.
I carefully carry him into his toddler bed, tucking him in before slipping out of his room, our room.
My clothes are still in the dresser where Luca sleeps, but my bed has been in Zeke’s room for the past several nights.
I’m not sure when Luca will want to share a bed with me, sex aside, just being in the same room with him tenses him up.
And he thinks he’s going to help me with my statistics homework?
I head into the study lounge and spread my books and assignment on the table in front of me.
It all feels familiar, only because I was already in here earlier today, not because I know an ounce of what I’m doing in statistics.
Turns out, I also don’t know what I’m doing with my marriage, either.
Luca plays hockey on Thursday night; perhaps if I show up with Kensley or Nova at the game, I might be able to get things between us back on track.
Not that I’m expecting him to want a replay of me fucking him while wearing a Narwhals’ jersey, but just treating me like a friend instead of ignoring me or yelling at me would be a nice change of pace.
Luca wordlessly steps into the study lounge.
His hair is wet, his sweatpants sit low at his waist as he puts a t-shirt on, and I can’t help but stare.
“You’re drooling,” he says to me.
Is he trying to lure a response from me? Because it’s working. I don’t want to feel the attraction, but it’s impossible to ignore as I stare at his muscles, his toned body, the line that goes down to where his sweatpants rest.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
He comes around to sit next to me at the table, and I try not to drink in his scent, sandalwood and amber. It’s definitely the shampoo he’s using, but fuck, that aroma stirs all of my senses in ways that it shouldn’t.
Not when he hates me.
I shift on the chair, hoping he’s oblivious to the early signs of my arousal. Just having him next to me, the heat radiating off his body, I feel like an animal in heat, ready to pounce.
Down, girl.
