Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(48)

I don’t.

I take a deep breath, steady myself, and force myself to whisper, “Thank you, but it’s not your responsibility to save me, Luca.”

“What if I made it mine?” he asks, eyes intent. I get the strangest sensation he’s actually asking something else entirely.

What if I make you mine?

My heart is clanging inside my chest. I swallow roughly. He watches my throat working, eyes simmering with thoughts he doesn’t share. The dark blue rings around his irises are so deep I could drown in them.

“Delilah,” Luca murmurs in a rough voice, his face a hairsbreadth from mine. “Something else you should probably know.”

“What’s that?” I repeat, voice barely audible above my pounding pulse.

“Been wanting to kiss you for six fuckin’ months. Not waiting another second, babe.”

His hands cup my cheeks, he angles my head up to his, and before I can blink, his mouth is on mine.





Chapter Nine





Looking for trouble? Get yourself a redhead.”



Delilah Sinclair, citing nature over nurture as the source of all her problems.





God, he’s a great goddamned kisser.

It’s everything I’ve spent the last few months imagining and yet somehow… better. His lips are playful and passionate, consuming but not crushing as they sweep over mine in a kiss that makes my whole world tilt off-kilter on its already crooked axis.

With his mouth on mine, I discover I was right when I said I was a lost cause. Because when he’s kissing me, that’s exactly what I am.

Lost.

At first, all I can do is hang on for dear life. I can barely breathe, let alone kiss him back. That doesn’t last long, though, because when you’ve been waiting as long as I have to kiss Luca Buchanan and it finally happens, you sure as hell don’t allow the opportunity to pass by without taking full advantage.

Mind blanking, heart racing, I twine my arms around his neck, part my lips beneath his, and lean into the kiss with everything I have. When he feels my enthusiasm, a deep growl rattles in his throat and his grip on my nape tightens, pulling me closer until our bodies are fused together. His other arm winds around my back in a bind so tight I can barely breathe, but I don’t mind at all. I’ve got no mental capacity left to care about much of anything, except the way his mouth feels moving over mine with such unyielding passion.

Who needs oxygen, when you’re kissing a man like this?

I’m still wearing his sweatshirt, fully covered from neck to mid-thigh, but I can’t help thinking about how easy it would be to lift it over my head and throw it across the room, so there’s nothing but skin and a few scraps of lace between us. I haven’t forgotten that look in his eyes earlier — half-lidded and hot, promising enough passion to wreck me completely. With a single glance he let me know, without any shade of doubt, that one night with him would ruin me for any other man… because afterward, no one else would ever measure up.

The reckless, senseless, masochistic streak inside of me wants to rise to that challenge; is practically dying to test that theory firsthand.

Go ahead, Luca. Take your best shot.

I’ll wreck you right back.

His hand fists in my hair and I moan into his mouth, unable to stop the sound. I don’t care that he knows how much his touch is affecting me. It feels too good to think about things like embarrassment or what this will mean, when we finally break apart.

If I never stop kissing him, I’ll never have to face the repercussions of this lapse in control.

Problem solved.

Luca’s mouth drops to my neck, stubble scraping along the hyper-sensitive skin at the hollow of my throat, and I feel my toes curl against the hardwood. Of all the kisses I’ve ever had, with all those handsome men in all those gorgeous locales… none of them measure up to this one, here in the pale afternoon light of my empty, boxed up bedroom.

With his mouth and his hands, Luca Buchanan is doing something to me. Something beautiful. Something that doesn’t require a romantic Hollywood backdrop or a scenic, perfect setting with flowers and candlelight.

I think that’s what scares me most of all.

It’s worrisome to think what might’ve happened between us, if not for the Macombers’ arrival on my doorstep. Things may’ve made that irreversible leap from PG-13 to NC-17.

Which would be very, very….

Orgasmic? Earth-shattering? Un-fucking-believably great?

No, that’s not the word I’m looking for…

Irredeemable.

Yes, that’s the one.

Going there with Luca would be totally, completely irredeemable. Because once you’ve seen someone naked, once you’ve stripped down to your skin with them and allowed them to unravel you into a thready ball of desire… there’s no going back. Not ever.

Thankfully, the Macombers do arrive, saving me from such a fate. The sound of multiple miniature fists slamming against my front door assaults my ears. We both freeze when we hear the pounding, standing so close our mouths brush with each shared breath. Our bodies are tangled together like vines of ivy.

“LILAAAAAA!”

Their voices are as persistent as their fists.

“Shit!” I curse, realizing I’ve totally lost track of time. I jolt into motion, pulling out of Luca’s arms and racing toward one of my clothing boxes. I’m muttering to myself as I grab a hodgepodge of items without pausing to make sure they match. “It can’t be four already, can it?”