"Tell me." His lips moved against my jaw. "Tell me what you need."
"You. I need you."
We fumbled for supplies, laughing breathlessly when I knocked half the contents of my nightstand onto the floor. But then Luca’s hands were on me again, preparing me with maddening patience, and laughter dissolved into something rawer.
"Okay?" He positioned himself above me, one hand braced beside my head, the other guiding himself into place.
"More than okay." I pulled him down into a kiss as he pressed forward.
The sensation of him filling me, stretching me, was overwhelming. He moved slowly, carefully, watching me for any sign of discomfort.
"You feel..." He stopped, jaw clenched with the effort of holding still. "God, Theo."
"Move." I rolled my hips, taking him deeper. "Please."
He did. He started slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and devastating. His eyes never left mine, even when I could see he was fighting for control.
"So good." His voice was wrecked. "You are so good. Perfect. Look at you."
The praise undid something in me. It made me want more—more words, more touch, more of this feeling like I was something precious to him.
"Luca. Harder."
He obliged. He changed the angle until I saw stars. One hand wrapped around me, stroking in time with his thrusts. The combination was too much and not enough all at once.
"You close?" He gasped the words against my throat.
"Yeah. Don't stop. Don't—"
"Never stopping." His rhythm turned desperate. "Can't stop. Can't walk away from this. From you. You're—fuck—you are everything."
I came with his name on my lips, my whole body locking up with the force of it. Dimly, I felt him follow—heard him groan my name, felt him shudder and pulse inside me.
We collapsed together, breathing hard. My heart hammered against my ribs—the good kind of ache.
For a long time, neither of us moved. Then Luca shifted. He reached for the towel on the nightstand—he’d been prepared—and cleaned us both up with a surprising gentleness.
When he was done, he didn't pull away. Instead, he gathered me close, careful of my healing ribs, and held me like I was something he couldn't bear to let go.
"Thank you," he whispered against my hair.
I turned in his arms to face him. "For what?"
"For being patient with me. For not giving up when I was an asshole. For making me feel like maybe I could be more than the mask."
"You are more." I touched his face, tracing the line of his jaw. "You always have been."
He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch. When he opened them again, they were bright with tears.
"I'm falling for you," he said again. Quieter this time, like the words were being pulled from somewhere deep. "I know I can't give you everything you deserve. I can't take you out. Can't hold your hand where people might see. But I'm falling for you anyway and I..."
His phone rang.
The shrill sound cut through the moment like a blade. Luca tensed, instinctively reaching for his jeans crumpled on the floor.
"Don't," I said. "Let it go to voicemail."
He looked torn. Then he glanced at the screen and his face went pale. "It's my agent."
