“He called you that?” he asked, slightly incredulous.
“No. I could just tell.”
He looked at his glass, nothing but ice cubes at the bottom. “You’re free now. You could tell him the truth. Get the chance you didn’t have before.”
“Why would I do that when I have you?” I blurted.
His eyes stayed on the glass for a second before he looked at me again.
“I found the man I want.” It was a dumb thing to say so early in a new relationship, but I decided to go for it. Luca didn’t play games, so why would I? If what you saw was what you got with him, the same would be true for me. My heart was open. My walls were down. There was a welcome mat right at my feet.
He held my stare with his signature confidence, not the least bit provoked by my honesty.
I had never looked for a husband. Never looked for forever. Men were just tools to complete a job. But Luca Fournier was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of man, and like hell was I going to let that slipthrough my fingers without a fight. With nails like claws, I’d dig deep and keep him close.
With his massive body on top of mine and his strong muscles doing all the work, I lay there and came around his cock over and over, taking his dick like a fist against a punching bag, hard and fast again and again.
Like a stallion in a race around the track, he never lost speed, his powerful body working without depletion. When I tried to change positions, he kept me pinned toward the headboard like he wanted me there all night. Sweat was on his chest. His arms were thicker when they were flexed. Sometimes he caught my lips with his in the heat of the moment—and he could kiss so well.
When there was no fuel left in our tanks, we lay together in his large bed, the lamp on his nightstand the only illumination in the room. The fire had died out in the living room where our plates had been abandoned. Andre always came to retrieve my food an hour after he delivered it, but he didn’t come tonight, like he understood to stay away when Luca had company for the night.
He lay on his back with me close into his side, my leg between his knees, my arm draped over his hard stomach. He was warm to the touch, like a rock in the desert sun. His phone on the nightstand lit up from time to time, texts constantly coming through even though he had no intention of leaving me tonight.
He probably heard the vibration but ignored it. His fingers lightly touched my hair along my back, showing an affection he’d seemed incapable of giving when we first met.
My first day of work was tomorrow morning, and now I wished I hadn’t taken that job. I had no idea what time it was now, but it was probably past midnight. I wished I could stay up until dawn and sleep all day.
“Need to set an alarm?” he asked.
“I don’t want to sleep.” I was dead tired, could barely keep my eyes open, but I didn’t want this to end.
He tapped the screen of his phone, and I saw the time. It was 3:15.
“God…”
He grabbed his phone and set an alarm for me.
“I don’t want a job anymore.”
He smirked before he reached for the lamp and turned it off. “There’s the weekends.”
“But the weekend isn’t now.”
The room went dark, and then he turned to me, hooking my leg over his hip, the two of us sharing the same pillow in the same bed, his muscles so warm they felt like a gentle fire. He closed his eyes with his face close to mine.
My fingers went to his jawline, and I felt the shadow there, the prickle of the coarse hair.
He grinned slightly. “You remind me of a kid who’s fighting bedtime.”
“It’s hard to sleep when it feels like Christmas.”
His eyes opened and he looked at me, the smile disappearing as the seriousness returned. He stared at me for a while, his fingers gently moving over my soft skin underneath the sheets.
I was probably being too forward with him now, but it was hard to swallow back the word vomit when it had already flooded your mouth. It was hard to cage the emotions that had already sprouted wings and wanted to fly.
“Stay with me for the weekend.”
I blinked several times as I looked at him. “The whole weekend?”
