“I kissed you because I fucking wanted to! Do you think I’d do anything I didn’t want to do? Or do you think I’d knowingly manipulate you after I’ve told you how important the truth is tome?”
I paused, searching his face for any hint of his true feelings as I processed his words.
“So why did Jack say that, then?”
“Because he did suggest it.” I flinched. “But it was days ago and I promise, I had forgotten he’d even said it. I kissed you because I wanted to. I’ve been telling myself that we couldn’t—it wouldn’t work—that our lives are too different. I’ve triedsofucking hardnot to be selfish with you, not to put my need for you above the consequences.”
I shook my head, struggling to believe he wasn’t telling me this to make me feel better. I bit my lip to stop it from wobbling.
“But I’m selfish to the core, Matilda. I do things because I want to, and I don’t care for the consequences.”
I shifted the bag on my shoulder, but his hands reached for my face, gently pulling my attention back to him. His gaze was so intense, but I willed myself to hold my ground.
“I take that back.” His voice deepened, his eyes roaming over my face, lingering on my lips. “I haven’t been doing the things I’ve wantedto.”
“Huh?” My voice was barely audible above the beating of my heart.
“I mean…” He moved an inch closer. “You’ve been driving meinsanefor weeks. I’ve been dying to touch you forweeks,but I’ve resisted.” His words sliced through the air. “I was trying so hardnotto be selfish with you, and that was my problem.” He stroked my bottom lip, staring at my face. “It’s the exact opposite of what you’re accusing me of. I didn’t kiss you and not want to; I haven’t been kissing you because I want to sofuckingbadly.”
“Then why don’t you?” I whispered as his words sank in and a sense of trust washed overme.
“Thank fuck,” he breathed, before crushing his lips to mine.
The second our lips touched,Lucagroanedinto my mouth, the most delicious, deep sound, sending liquid heat straight to my core and overwhelming my senses.
His hands left my face, one pushing the bag off my shoulder and the other gripping my waist, pulling me in until my body was flush with his. No other kiss had ever felt like this, so consuming that my body was fueled entirely by need.
“Not close enough,” he murmured, my heels skimming against the ground as he nudged me backward, our lips working against each other in perfect tandem.
My back collided with the closed door just as Luca’s strong hands hooked under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. I snaked my arms around his shoulders, fingers weaving through the messy strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Luca’s hand momentarily left my thigh to lock the door, the click echoing through the room. Then, with renewed intensity, he returned to our kiss, deepening it further. He gripped my arse, pulling me into his hardness, the pressure only serving to intensify the throbbing between my legs.
“Jesus Christ, you taste fucking delicious.”
I moaned, goosebumps prickling along my arms, fueling the fire that burned deep in my core.
Our kisses were frantic, weeks of pent-up frustration and longing peaking. Strong hands traveled my body, looking for new places to discover, his movements assured and solid, like he knew what he wanted and was takingit.
His hips circled again, easing the smallest amount of delicious tension before another wave of desire crashed into me, stronger than before.
“Oh my god, Luca,” I moaned.
“Fuck.” He kissed my jaw. “I’ve been dreaming about you moaning my name for weeks,” he whispered, kissing my pulse, down my neck, across my chest.
His lips descended, leaving a scorching trail across my cleavage as he devoured my skin. Every sweep of his tongue set it on fire, igniting my need for him even more.
“God, I need to see you,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth closer and closer to my neckline.
“Please,” I begged, and without hesitation, he obliged. Yanking the front of my dress down, he grasped my breasts in his hands, groaning.
“More,” I managed to gasp out between kisses.
“Hmm?”
“More,” I repeated, delirious and consumed by the moment.
“Use your words, Matilda. You want me to make you say them?” His hands were back on my arse, slipping beneath the leotard of my dress—the thin barrier of my tights the only thing between his hands and my bare skin. “Do you want me to beg you to say them?” His voice was a whisper against my breasts as he drew a nipple into his mouth. Heat surged through me, a rush of wetness igniting my core. “I won’t need to beg,” he said with a knowinglaugh and sat me on the vanity. I barely noticed thechingof bottles falling over as he spread my legs and pulled me to the edge.
“Tell me what you need, Matilda,” he continued, but all I could do was whimper in response as he admired the view and sucked in a deep breath.
