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Harper stepped into Luca’s embrace. A second later, one of his arms snaked out, and Conor found himself being tugged into the hug.
The three of them stood there, swaying slowly to the music.
“Actually,” Luca said, the first one finding the strength to pull away. “The dancing starts after our pre-prom dinner.”
“You cooked?” Harper asked with just enough shock—and perhaps terror—that Conor was torn between laughing and taking offense.
Of course, the terror was justified, so when Luca shot her an “are you kidding” look, the three of them cracked up.
“Hell no,” Luca replied. “I recruited Nonna and Aunt Berta because, well, you heard me say we wanted to do something nice for you, right?”
Harper grinned. “This is perfect. So incredibly perfect.”
Her words warmed Conor’s heart, and he was so grateful to be a part of this, that Luca had thought to include him. He only wished he’d thought of it himself.
“Why don’t you go take a seat,” Conor said to Harper, “while Luca and I go grab the food?”
Heading to the kitchen, Luca walked straight to the warming pans, but Conor stopped him with a hand on his forearm.
Luca turned to face him. “Everything alright?”
“Thank you,” Conor said. “For thinking of tonight, for asking me to help. This is…” He couldn’t put into words how much this night meant not just to Harper but to him as well.
Luca gave him a quizzical look. “Conor, man. Tonight was never happening without you. You’re a part of this.”
His throat closed as those words sank in.
He was a part of this, of them, of something…incredible.
Luca studied his face intently—so intently that Conor didn’t need to say anything. Luca grinned. “You finally ready to accept it?”
Conor nodded, his throat clogged by so many emotions—Jesus, positive emotions—that he couldn’t speak.
“Good. Now let’s go woo our girl. If it was any woman except Harper, I’d suggest we skip dinner and go straight to the dancing, but you and I both know the best way to win Harper’s heart is?—”
“To feed her,” Conor interjected, the two of them laughing as they grabbed the plates piled with chicken parmesan, lasagna, green beans, as well as the basket overflowing with homemade crusty bread.
Dinner was the perfect blend of fun and intimacy. They had chosen the booth because it was a circular one, nestled into a corner, and Harper clearly sensed the switch in their dynamic as every “just friends” wall came crashing down.
At one point, Harper dipped her bread into the olive oil, seasoned with herbs, lifting it to give Luca a bite. He accepted it from her fingers, sucking them in along with the food.
It was the sexiest thing Conor had ever seen.
Then Luca cut off a bite of his chicken parmesan, lifting his fork to Conor—who’d selected lasagna for himself—and encouraged him to try it.
Conor leaned forward, allowing Luca to feed him, and any hope he’d had of keeping his hard-on at bay was lost for good.
Not that Harper was helping the situation. Her hand found its way to his thigh, slowly gliding upward. One glance across the table told him she was giving Luca the same sexy caress. He hissed at the same time Harper’s hand grazed Conor’s cock, discovering the tent he’d pitched in his tuxedo pants.
Harper huffed out a soft breath—half laugh, half moan—then she pulled her hands away, both of them scowling, already missing her touch.
“Just making sure I’m not the only one about to spontaneously combust,” she said, grinning shamelessly.
“Too much more of this and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to dance.” Luca reached down to adjust his pants.
“It’s prom,” Conor said. “We have to dance.”
Reaching for his phone, he changed the music, selecting the song he wanted to play for their first dance.
