Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(73)
Luca flips on the light, dumps Fenway’s bag by the door, and unclips him from his leash. He promptly runs off to explore the apartment, sniffing every square inch of the place. I’m too tired to chase after him.
Luca takes one look at my face and leads me through the French doors into his bedroom in total silence. My eyes sweep around — a large platform bed with a slate headboard dominates most of the space. The rest is pretty standard: dresser, mirror, closet. He doesn’t pause as he guides me into the adjacent master bathroom. There’s a gorgeous glass-doored shower with a ceiling-mounted rainfall fixture on the left, a long black granite sink vanity to the right, and a toilet mounted against the far wall.
Lifting me by the waist, Luca sets me on the vanity countertop and examines me with intent eyes. His hands run down my arms and legs, searching for scrapes and gashes. Finding none, he steps to my side and gently turns my chin to examine the back of my head. I feel his fingers parting my hair with care as he leans close to look at the wound.
“It’s pretty shallow. Already closing.” He moves to stand directly in front of me. “Head wounds tend to bleed a lot.”
“Got sick of the strawberry blonde, figured I’d go for a redder shade,” I joke.
He doesn’t laugh. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against mine. His breaths are labored. I can see the muscle jumping in his cheek, can feel the tension still holding his every atom hostage.
“Luca,” I whisper, lifting my hands to his neck, where his pulse thunders beneath the skin. “I’m fine. Really. You were there. You stopped them.”
“Not fast enough.” His words are low. “Never should’ve let you walk alone.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
His jaw ticks. “If something had happened to you…”
“It didn’t.” I lean a shade closer, until our lips are parallel. “I’m right here.”
“We should probably call the police. File an official report, even though I can track them down faster with Knox Investigations’ resources.”
“Maybe,” I hedge.
“Delilah.”
“Not now, okay? Right now, I need to think about something that isn’t scary. Something good.”
Something like you.
He stares at me, eyes swimming with words he’ll never say. I have quite a few of my own unutterable thoughts spinning through my head. Things like…
I need you.
I want you.
I don’t know how I ever got by before you.
I’m not sure who moves first. I’m not sure it matters.
My knees part, he steps between them, and our mouths meet in an all-consuming kiss that reverberates through me like a mallet on a drum. I feel desire thrumming inside my bloodstream, a steady beat of rising passion rushing from my heart outward, until every vein, every vessel, is bursting with it.
Luca’s mouth explores mine as his hands slide slowly down my body. It’s different than it was earlier, when we were so full of haste, so fueled by lust we couldn’t wait to tear each other’s clothes off, couldn’t even make it out of his truck without a taste of each other. We’ve exchanged lust for longing, desire for need.
I don’t want to be with him; I need to be. I need it with every fiber of my being.
There’s a newfound tenderness in the way he touches me, a novel desperation in the way his lips slide over my skin — as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear at any moment. As if he has to memorize the feeling of me beneath his hands while he still has a chance.
His fingers tremble as they pull off my heels, as they find the bottom hem of my dress. It stuns me that such a strong man could be made weak, brought to his knees, just by touching me.
Inch by inch, he slides the dress up my body, revealing my curves in slow increments before finally pulling it over my head and tossing it to the floor in a glittering pile. His eyes rove over my bare skin, taking in every detail with such intense heat, it makes me shiver. The look on his face when he sees I’m completely naked beneath the dress is enough to make my heart skip a beat.
Pure, unadulterated hunger.
“You get the answer you were hoping for in regard to my underwear?” I whisper against his lips, reaching for his belt buckle. I feel his grin a second before he kisses me.
With impatient fingers, I pull his belt from the loops and push his pants to the floor. He tears out of his shirt, buttons sent flying in his haste, and I can’t help laughing as I watch them ping across the room like tiny plastic bullets. My amusement is short lived — when my eyes land on his muscular chest and work their way down from his pecks to his abs to the trail of hair that leads straight to his…
Holy.
Shit.
His eyes glitter as my ankles lock around his waist and my arms wind around his neck, bringing our bodies together. Skin on skin. I gasp a bit at the sensation.
His hands slide beneath my thighs as he lifts me off the countertop and carries me into the walk-in shower, his steps never faltering, his mouth claiming mine without reprieve. Pinning me against the wall with his hips, he reaches over to turn a handle that brings a warm torrent pouring straight down on us from the ceiling like a tropical waterfall.
Beneath the stream, I stare into his half-lidded eyes as his hands move down my wet body, never looking away as he adjusts his stance. I inhale sharply when I feel him there, poised at my entrance, a millimeter away from wrecking me. One tiny shift, and I’ll be lost forever.