Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
He walks me back until my spine hits the counter. It’s not rough, not rushed—it’s intentional. He’s here. He wants me. He wants to kiss me until I forget my own name and maybe even his.
His tongue slides against mine, and holy hell, if Mavis was still haunting me, she’s fully crossed into the light now.
My hands slip under the hem of his shirt, searching, needing skin. I find it—warm and solid and smooth. He groans into my mouth like I’ve shocked him with the touch, like it wasn’t expected, but welcomed.
And then his mouth moves.
From my lips to my jaw, down to the slope of my neck, where he lingers. His teeth scrape, his lips soothe, and I swear to God I could black out from the way he breathes my name.
“Nova…”
Yes.
Yes…
Luca groans deeper this time, almost like I’ve broken something loose inside him. His hand slides under my thigh, then the other follows, and before I can fully process what’s happening—
I’m lifted.
Effortlessly.
He hoists me like I weigh nothing and sets me on the edge of the counter with a soft thud. The cool surface sends a momentary jolt of shock through me, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his hands settling on my knees, spreading them just enough so he can step between them.
We’re eye level now.
Breath mingling. Lips inches apart.
“Hi,” I whisper, dazed.
His mouth quirks. “Hi.”
And then we’re kissing again—hungry, greedy, both reaching the breaking point and too far gone to care.
His hands grip my thighs, my waist, my hips, grounding me and setting me on fire all at once. My hands roam too, up his chest, around his neck, into his hair.
His body presses closer, and I swear I feel every unspoken word he’s ever wanted to say pour into that kiss.
When his lips move to my neck again, his hands slide under the hem of my shirt. Not pushing. Not rushing. Holy hell, I want more.
I want all of it.
The tension between us hums like electricity in a thunderstorm. It’s not just lust—it’s something heavier. Something like need, wrapped in vulnerability and layered with the kind of affection I didn’t expect to find here. In my kitchen.
On my counter.
With him.
I lean back slightly, bracing my hands behind me on the counter for balance. He takes the hint, trailing kisses down my collarbone and over the neckline of my shirt. His palms flatten against my bare thighs and slide upward, slow and reverent.
“You’re unreal,” he murmurs against my skin.
“You’re overdressed,” I breathe back.
He lets out a low and wicked chuckle and kisses me again. “So are you.”
His hands find the hem of my shirt, thumbs brushing bare skin as he waits—always giving me space, always letting me choose. I nod, slow and sure.
He lifts the fabric over my head, careful, like he’s unwrapping something sacred.
The moment the shirt is gone, his eyes roam. They’re open, honest, reverent. Like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and he’s not trying to hide it.
“You’re…” Luca exhales pressing his forehead briefly to mine before kissing me again. Slower this time.
Sweeter.
My turn.
My fingers find the hem of his shirt next. I pull, and he lets me, breaking the kiss only long enough for it to pass over his head. I toss it somewhere behind us, not caring where it lands.
I take in his tattoos—he has three. One on his chest, two on his upper bicep.
A scar on his rib cage.
Freckles.
And then it’s skin to skin.
Heat to heat.
My legs tighten around his hips, pulling him closer, anchoring us in this moment.
He kisses my shoulder. My neck. The space just beneath my ear that makes my breath hitch. His hands cradle my waist like he’s memorizing every inch, like this—this—is what he’s been waiting for.
“So fucking sexy…”
“You are too.”
He licks between the valley of my breasts, hands sliding around to the small of my back. My breath catches again when his fingers find the clasp of my bra, working with the kind of practiced ease that makes my brain short-circuit.
Then the fabric loosens, slides down my arms, and is gone—tossed aside like the rest of our hesitation.
His gaze flicks up, eyes dark, lips parted. And when he finally speaks, his voice is barely a whisper.
“Jesus, Nova…” he breaths. “Your tits are amazing.”
I would blush, but I already know my tits are amazing.
Luca doesn’t rush. He just looks at me. Then his mouth is on my skin again, lips and tongue and hands worshiping every inch like I’m a map he’s determined to memorize.
My nipples pucker.
I curl my fingers into his hair as he kisses his way down—slow, teasing, maddening. When I gasp, I feel him smile against my skin, pleased with himself.
“You keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what Mavis does.”
That earns a laugh. A low, rumbling one that vibrates against my chest and makes my toes curl and my vagina clench.