“With what?” he said.
“The whole opening doors, helping me in, being all gentleman-like,” she said.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “No. That’s just who I am.”
She studied him for a second, then nodded. “Good,” she said. “Don’t change that.” His hand landed on her hip again as hehelped her up, and this time—she didn’t pretend it didn’t affect her or hide the way she leaned into him just a little. She didn’t pretend that her fingers brushed his arm by accident, even gripping it for a second longer than necessary.
When he shut her door, she exhaled slowly, pressing her head back against the seat. This was dangerous. Not because of chemistry or attraction, but because she could already feel it slipping into something deeper—something harder to control.
The drive back to her place was quieter than before. When he pulled up outside her apartment, neither of them moved right away. Luna turned toward him slowly. “This is the part where you decide if you’re walking me to the door or not,” she said.
His gaze dropped to her lips for half a second before coming back up to her eyes. “You gonna invite me in?” She liked how direct Rocco was. He was that way in therapy, too, and it was one of the things that drew her to him. She always knew where she stood with him.
She smiled slightly. “Maybe.” He studied her, like he was weighing something, and then he got out of the truck without another word. Luna’s pulse kicked up as she let him help her down from his truck again, her body brushing his this time—no space, no hesitation.
They walked to her door in silence that was filled with anticipation. Her hands were steady as she unlocked it, pushing it open before turning back to him, and for a second, neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. “Goodnight, Rocco,” she said softly.
His jaw tightened slightly, like he didn’t quite like that answer to his unasked question. She wasn’t going to make this easy forhim or herself, because she really liked him. He stepped closer anyway, closing the distance until her back nearly brushed the door.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Goodnight.” But he didn’t leave, and neither did she. Her breath hitched when his hand came up, brushing a strand of hair back from her face. He was so gentle, she forgot who he was or what he did for a living now. His actions were so different from the heat simmering just under the surface of him.
“Luna,” he murmured. She didn’t let him finish. Her hand fisted in his shirt, pulling him down as she kissed him—harder this time, deeper, letting all the restraint from dinner snap in an instant. He responded immediately, one hand bracing against the door beside her, the other settling at her waist. For a moment, the world narrowed to just that—heat, breath, and the pull between them.
Then she broke their kiss and looked up at him. “Still think you can handle me?” she whispered.
His answer was low and certain. “Yeah.”
Her lips curved slightly as she nodded. “Good,” she breathed. Because she had a feeling that he had no idea what he had just signed up for.
Luna didn’t sleep, not really. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of the night before like her mind refused to let it go. She remembered the way he looked at her, and the way he touched her—careful, like she might break, butwith something stronger underneath. Something that said he wouldn’t hesitate if she asked for more—and God, she almost had.
That was the part that got to her. Luna wasn’t impulsive when it came to men. She flirted, she pushed, she tested—but she didn’t lose control. Not like she wanted to, not with anyone. But Rocco made her forget herself, and that was a problem—a big one.
She groaned softly and dragged a pillow over her face. “Get it together,” she muttered into the fabric. “He’s just a man.” A man who knew how to unravel her with one look. He was a man who had seen her at her most professional—and still wanted her when she dropped the act.
A man who—“Stop,” she ordered herself, throwing the pillow aside and sitting up. This wasn’t like her. She didn’t spiral, and she never obsessed over a man. She definitely didn’t lie awake thinking about a man who had just kissed her like he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and her heart jumped before she could stop it. She grabbed her phone, already knowing who it was before she even looked.
Rocco:You up?
Her lips curved despite herself. She knew that he never really slept either, and that did something to her—something soft and dangerous she didn’t want to name. She typed back before she could overthink reasons not to.
Luna:Maybe. You stalking me now?
The reply came almost immediately.
Rocco: Thought about it.
She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. God, he was trouble.
Luna:Bold answer.
There was a pause; this time it was long enough that she could feel the hesitation even through a screen.
Rocco:I can’t stop thinking about you.
Her breath caught. Just like that—no games and no smooth lines. Rocco was just being honest, and that was refreshing. Luna leaned back against her headboard, staring at the words like they might disappear if she blinked. That was the thing about Rocco—he didn’t play. He didn’t dance around what he felt, and that made it a hell of a lot harder to keep her own guard up. Her fingers hovered over the screen before she finally typed.
