“Good idea,” he said and grabbed my arm. “Come here.”
“What?” I stuttered as he attempted to maneuver me like a puppet.
“Come and sit between my legs.”
Had he lost his mind?
“We can get a picture.”
OK, that makes more sense.
Obliging, I clumsily climbed between his legs so we faced thesea.
“Stop being so awkward.” He exhaled with a sound that was almost a laugh. “I’ve seen you hug a million people; this shouldn’t be so hard.”
We’d been flirting for the cameras already, but it felt strange doing it when no one was around, especially with Luca initiatingit.
“Can you unlock your phone?” he asked, but I just told him my password so he could unlock it himself. Hooking an arm around my lower stomach, he pulled me so I sat flush against his chest. With both our suits rolled to our waists, we were skin to skin. Holding the phone in his other hand, he flipped the camera to selfie mode and took a few pictures.
Pulling up the camera roll, we scrolled through them.
They were…good. Our hair was damp, wavy, and sticking to our heads, and the camera was low enough to reveal Luca’s toned chest and my bikinitop.
“They’ll do,” Luca remarked casually, while I was struggling to swallow.
He stilled for a moment, and I realized I was being dismissed.
Jesus, fuck, that’s embarrassing.
My face flamed as I pushed off his chest, hoping he couldn’t hear how loud my heart was beating.
An arm tugged around my waist, halting my movements.
“Relax,” he said, before adding, “if you want.”
Relax, if you want.
Did I want? Was it wise to continue to watch the sea with Luca’s warmth sinking into my back? We’d been balancing along these invisible lines, but this felt like stepping right overone.
I settled back into his chest, my body humming with approval.
OK, I guess I do want.
It was comfortable and, honestly, it felt good. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been held like this—Mark had rarely let us cuddle, and certainly never in public.
The salty air wrapped around us. From afar, people might have assumed we were a couple too much in love to care about the stormy weather. I wiggled my toes in the cool, damp sand, each grain anchoring me, any remaining tension melting away.
“Have you heard from your mom this morning?” Luca asked, the rise and fall of his chest melodic against my back.
“Hell will freeze over before my mother skips her morning text.”
Mum:Good job again for last night, keep it up. I’m going to move my diary around to see if I can come to the studio and give you some pointers for next week’s skate.
Luca hummed in response as he twirled a wet strand of my hair around his finger. My toes curled into the sand. A seagull swept overhead, its sharp squawk the only sound against the waves and our voices.
My mother’s compliments weren’t dousing me with relief in the way they used to. They were just making me roll my eyes.
I’d swiftly texted back and told her that wasn’t necessary. I couldn’t imagine Luca taking pointers from my mother very gracefully. She’d found us after the show last night and offered me some “coaching” tips, and he’d seemed pretty pissed on my behalf. ButI’d become used to my mother always wanting to control my career. Since I’d attended my first ice-skating lesson, she’d been molding me into her protegée, and for years she’d been proud of me. Until I’d thrown the Olympic trials five years ago. Since then, she’d always made sure to show that Lauren was her favorite—I guessed as some kind of passive-aggressive punishment.
