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Doing Luca didn’t extinguish the nightmares, though. Only one man has been able to touch me since then, and have it not feel like spiders crawling over my skin.
Scooting away, I turn and inspect the cobbler; its golden-brown crust sits just below the glass rim of the casserole dish, cracked and ready to dig into. I rarely eat the dishes I make because sampling while baking fills me up, but this cobbler is an exception.
“I don’t need help.” Facing him, I disconnect our hands and bodies, not missing the way his eyes seem to dim slightly. But I don’t comment on it.
His disappointment isn’t my problem.
“So, what, you’re going to just dismantle the patriarchy on your own? Do you even know what you’re doing? Have you ever killed someone before, Caroline?”
The condescension dripping off his words makes my fingers curl, itching to sink into his skin. My nails dig into my palms instead.
I glare up at him, gritting my teeth. “Why, want to give me pointers?”
One eyebrow quirks, a slow smile tugging up one corner of his mouth. “I mean, I definitely think I’m a good teacher. Or have you forgotten the lessons I’ve already imparted on you?”
Heat floods my face, flushing my chest beneath the pink, slinky tank top I have on. “That’s not really an appropriate conversation, Luc.”
“You’re too concerned with appearances.” He steps toward me, one hand coming up to push a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. His palm cups the skin beneath my ear, holding me in place as his deep, ocean eyes gaze at me. “Why can’t you just live a little?”
As he leans in, bringing his chilly lips to mine, I think about how different Elia’s lips feel. Where Luca freezes me in place, rigidity lining my bones, Elia’s touch melts me, a soft flame incinerating my entire body the second we connect.
Still, there’s a comfort present in Luca’s arms—he’s the only one that really knows what’s going on, and it relieves some of the burden from my shoulders.
His hands flatten against my back as he pushes his mouth forward, deepening the kiss and pressing my ass against the counter. I’m trapped, my brain warring with the familiarity of being here with him versus the kitchen we’re doing this in—a kitchen belonging to my new husband.
Someone I haven’t even seen in days. Just a couple of texts checking in, making sure I’m still breathing, nothing about his confession from the other night, or an E.T.A. on his return.
Luca’s tongue pulls me back to the matter at hand, delving into my mouth at the same time he palms my left breast over my shirt. His hips drive into mine, seeking me out, and I open my thighs in reflex, letting him in.
“Jesus, Care.” He pulls back briefly to pepper kisses along my jaw, under my ear. “I forgot how fucking explosive we are together.”
I bite my lip to stifle the laughter bubbling at the base of my throat. We’re certainly not anythingcloseto explosive, but this is still kind of nice. “Luca, I don’t—we probably shouldn’t—”
His lips land on mine once again, silencing me, and after a few seconds, I force my brain off, letting myself fall into the moment. Closing my eyes as he explores the full expanse of my throat, wedging his hand into my jean shorts and teasing the seam of my sex, it’s almost easy to imagine this isn’t him at all.
“Well, well. Isn’t this fucking cozy?”
I murmur anmhmmagainst Luca’s lips, loving that I hear Elia’s deep, velvet voice in place of Luca’s. Safe and protected in one’s arms, I still get to enjoy the danger attached to my attraction to a man I want to despise.
Wait.What is he even talking about?
My heart skips a beat as realization dawns on me. I feel the muscles in Luca’s back tense up under my touch, the moment he also notices we aren’t alone.
Luca freezes, our mouths still pressed together; I pry my eyes open, staring into his equally wide ones.
He jumps back in a flash, wrenching his hand from my shorts and putting several feet between us. Backing into the refrigerator, he finally stops, out of places to go.
Elia leans against the bottom railing of the winding staircase, the division between the living area and kitchen, with an unreadable expression on his face. One elbow sits propped on the banister, the other stuffed inside his suit pocket, the picture of calm and collected. But the twitch in his left eyebrow tells me on the inside, he’s anything but.
And for some really fucked up reason, the rage I see hiding there turns me on.
Elia
The beautiful nymph licks her lips, erasing the evidence of another man’s saliva on her flesh. She rights her tank top, smoothing her palms down over her toned thighs, eyes locked on mine like she’s afraid to look away.
Good.I want her afraid. Want to cultivate her fear and work it from her body the wayyou extract honey from a honeycomb.
My plan coming home had been to convince her to warm my bed, at least for a few hours. But that’s all gone to shit now. I can’t stop envisioning Luca’s hand in her shorts, his mouth on her delicate, delicious flesh.
