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“I can’t believe he wanted to fight you over it,” I say from the doorway, laughing at the image of the short balding man yelling at Luka, fist pulled back and ready to fly, until Luka stood up and the man realized he would need at least three more of himself to have any chance against Luka’s sheer muscle.
Luka pats the cushion next to him like it is normal for us to relax here together. Like we do this all the time. “He’s lucky I didn’t deck him. If the restaurant manager hadn’t kicked him out for insulting you, I would have knocked him out myself.”
I move slowly around the sofa and take a seat on the far end, two cushions away from Luka. It feels like a safe distance. “One punch from you might have knocked him out forever.”
He smiles, but I can tell his jaw is clenched in anger. “He would have deserved it.”
His words from that night in the parking lot of The Floating Crown come back to me.No man gets to hurt or insult you. Except for me.
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I know.” The tone in his voice is what makes me look up. His inky black hair is so dark it seems to be pulling shadows around him like a cape. Darkness cuts a sharp line across his cheekbone and down the smooth plane of his nose. He looks like a villain in a noir film. All he needs is a hat pulled low over his eyes. The hat would certainly help me because his eyes are like fire on my skin, burning a hole through me. I don’t understand the intensity, and I’m not prepared for it. “No one should talk to you like that.”
My mouth is dry, and I can’t speak or move. I just stare at him, watching as he slides down the cough towards me. As the arm that has been draped on the back of the couch moves to the cushion between us and then to my leg, his fingers curling around the smooth skin of my thigh.
Play dead. That is all I can think. It’s what you do in a bear attack…I think. But Luka isn’t a bear. He’s a snake, sliding around my skin, tightening his hold until I’m trapped.
Luka’s finger curves under my chin, turning my face to meet his. The stained-glass window from the restaurant appears in my mind again, and I see the apple dangling in front of me. Will I take a bite?
He leans forward, his lips parting slightly. He smells like cedar and bourbon and heat rolls off of him like a space heater. I don’t stand a chance.
As soon as his lips touch mine, there is a kind of fire in my veins I’ve never felt before. I can feel every inch of my body, every tingle, every brush of his skin against mine. I’m an exposed nerve, and Luka is plucking the strings.
His large hand slides up my neck, his finger hooking behind my ear so he is cupping my face, holding me like I’m precious and fragile. I grab the front of his shirt hard enough that I worry I might tear the buttons, but then I want to tear them. I want them to rip from the material and roll across the floor, exposing what feels like a rock solid chest. I want to feel his skin against mine, his weight on top of me, his warmth between my legs.
My thoughts are coming too fast as Luka wraps an arm behind my back and slides me away from the arm rest and closer to him. Then, he gently lays me back on the couch, crawling over me.
I run my fingers down his arms and across his chest. His body is hard. Everywhere. I feel the length of him pressed against my leg, and I can’t wait to never tell Chiara how big he is. But mostly, I kiss him. I’ve never had a kiss like this. My eyes are squeezed shut, and despite this being our first kiss, our bodies fit together perfectly. He sucks at my lower lip, his tongue sliding into my mouth, caressing the tip of my tongue. It is nothing like I would have imagined. His mouth isn’t crushing against mine, slanted and angry. It is sensual and deep. I could kiss him forever.
His hands worship the curves of my body, pressing into my waist and the dip of my stomach. He works the layers of my dress up so his fingers can tickle the insides of my thighs, so close to where I really want them that the sensation is maddening. I buck my hips against him, and when he doesn’t respond the way I want him to, I clumsily find his zipper and pull it down. His entire body stiffens.
When he looks down at me, the green in his eyes is gone. His pupils are blown wide with desire and lust, and he looks like a man possessed.
It feels like I’ve been doused in cold water.
What am I doing?What am I doing?
“I can’t do this,” I blurt.
The words are hoarse, filled with longing that creates a pit of shame in my stomach that I want to fall into. Luka kissed me and just like I thought, I fell apart. I gave into his gentleman act even though I know the monster underneath.
I expect Luka to scream, to rage, to force me to do whatever he wants. But he doesn’t. He pushes away from me, his mouth pressed into a tight line, and stands up and pulls on his zipper.
Quickly, I push down the fabric of my dress, covering my shaking legs, and sit up. My entire body is trembling and hot, and I feel like I am going to cry or be sick. I can’t look at him because if I do, I’m afraid of what I’ll think. What I’ll want. Because underneath it all, I still want him. My body is practically screaming for him to come back.
“Excuse me.” He turns and walks out of the room, his shoes quick taps against the marble floor. The sound disappears within fifteen seconds, but I sit on the couch for much longer, afraid that if I get up too soon, I’ll follow after him. Afraid that I’ll find him and beg him to finish what he started.
13
Luka
I have to retie my tie three times before I get it right. I’ve never been nervous before. Not like this. Though, I’ve also never been married before.
The last few days with Eve have been easy. Easier than I ever would have imagined. I’ve settled into domesticity bizarrely fast to the point where it would be strange to come home and not see Eve twirling around the kitchen making dinner. After our kiss on the couch, I was afraid things would be tense between us, but Eve seemed content to carry on as though it never happened, so that is what I tried to do. It was hard when lust would settle over me like a personal rain cloud every time she got too close or her hand brushed mine.
I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I’ve tried to convince myself it is just because I haven’t had her yet. Because I’ve never spent this much time with a woman without sleeping with her. But I’m not sure if that is it. Something about Eve—her courage and fight—captivates me. She looks like this beautiful, gentle little bird, but underneath it all, she is a bird of prey.
When someone knocks on my door, I rush forward embarrassingly fast to open it, thinking it might be Eve.
