Luca took another long moment to answer. His breath was coming faster, like they’d danced harder than they had, like they were doing more than just sitting on a dirty floor.
“Okay,” he said, and then he grabbed Emerson by the neck and kissed him.
It was hard, almost desperate, not like the sleepy brushes along Emerson’s neck that had started their tryst on the dance floor. Emerson tried to meet him in kind, communicate with his lips and his tongue and his thumbs,I mean it I mean it I mean it. I choose you, until somehow Luca ended up flat on the floor, Emerson on top of him, just like their first kiss in the rain. It couldn’t have been comfortable for Luca, his back on these old floorboards, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Until, breathing heavily, he pushed gently on Emerson’s chest, pulling back just far enough to say?—
“I’ll send you my book if you let me look at your Sunday spreadsheets.”
The words came out fast, almost a jumble, and Emerson stared at him, brain lagging behind his body, which didn’t understand why they weren’t still kissing. Why Luca was no longer thrusting his dick against Emerson’s.
“Your financials,” Luca continued, breathing evening out. “The budget, the bills, the profit margins. Talk to me about the details. Let me carry some of the weight. Let me brainstorm with you about ways to fix it. Okay?”
Emerson nodded. “Okay.” He grabbed Luca’s face to bring it back to his.
Still, Luca resisted, laughing a little this time, a sound that somehow made Emerson even more hard.
“And the other spreadsheets,” Luca said. “The ones that make you happy. I want you to explain those to me, too.”
The immediate reply almost came right out of Emerson’s mouth this time, since his brain was still rapidly losing focus.I promise they’re not that exciting, Luca.
“Okay,” he said, again, instead. “I promise.”
And when Luca smiled at him—really smiled, for the first time since Emerson had seen him today, his dark eyes so happy—Emerson kissed him so hard it hurt, teeth smashing into lips, his hands frantically reaching under Luca’s t-shirt. He moved his mouth to Luca’s neck, to the underside of his chin, his collarbone, relishing every groan out of Luca’s mouth, every harsh breath arrowing straight to his dick.
“Fuck,” Luca muttered, bringing Emerson’s mouth back to his, his pelvis arching up into Emerson’s once more. “Need you,” he murmured between their lips.
“You don’t even know,” Emerson panted back. He knew it wasn’t the best idea to go for it right here; the floor was too hard; they could get splinters, but god—he wanted to crawl inside Luca’s skin. It made him feel brave, like every time he ever touched Luca made him feel brave. It had always been all honesty, when they were like this.
Emerson’s phone lit up on the ground.
Emerson barely saw it out of the corner of his eye. Luca had somehow gotten Emerson’s pants undone and his hands were squeezing Emerson’s ass under his underwear, still thrusting up while Emerson thrust back, and it felt so good even though it was all kind of chaotic?—
The phone lit up again, and some tiny neuron in Emerson’s brain sprang to life.GET IT GET IT GET ITit needled, even though every single other neuron was fully focused on other things.GET IT!!!,it yelled a second later, like a real stubborn motherfucker.
“Sorry,” he breathed after their next kiss. “Let me just—oh my god.”
Suddenly Emerson was scrambling off of Luca so fast he got light-headed.
“Emerson…?”
“Sorry. Fuck.Fuck.”
“Is everything okay?”
Luca leaned up on his elbows as Emerson shoved himself to standing, wobbly but somehow successful.
“Yeah, it’s just—” He held out his phone. “London and Dahlia are going to be here in thirty minutes. The ones fromChef’s Special, remember? I told Dahlia we could shoot an interview here about the farm for her YouTube channel, but I totally forgot.”
Still holding his phone, he held his head.
“How do I look?”
From the floor, Luca gave him a slow, molten look from his shoes up to his eyes. Emerson realized his pants were still unbuttoned and barely holding onto his hips.
“Like you were about to getfucked,” Luca assessed, and Emerson groaned into his hands. “Also,” Luca added, voice less sultry, “like you spent a lot of time in the other barn today.”
“Idid,” Emerson moaned. “I’m a mess.”
