Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(78)

Things like commitment.

Things like love.

The thought alone sends chills down my spine. I have not come this far protecting my heart to let it be stolen from my chest in a matter of days.

Certainly, I cannot be this foolish.

Can I?

One night with a man, in his arms and his bed, has never affected me like this before. I tell myself it’s just sex, just lust… but, if that’s true, why can’t I bear the thought of walking away from him? Why can’t I stomach the idea of ending this, like it’s any other fling from my past?

I don’t know when it happened, or even how… but the idea of leaving Luca seems somehow… intolerable.

I roll the empty coffee mug back and forth between my palms. I have to admit, he’s under my skin.

Luca Buchanan has threaded himself into the very fabric of my heart, and I fear pulling out the stitches will be the most painful thing I’ve ever done.

And yet… I have no choice. Sooner than later, I’ll have to take scissors to the organ beating inside my chest and carve him out as best I can, even if it takes vital pieces of me along with it.

Because the alternative — letting myself think there’s actually a future here, letting that heart slowly shatter into pieces when this comes to an end?

I guarantee that pain will hurt worse.

Two arms slide around my waist. I flinch and nearly spill coffee all over myself, but a hand reaches out to steady mine.

“Whoa. Just me.”

Luca’s mouth hits my neck as his palm slides along my stomach. The friction of his fingers against the fabric of my shirt — or, technically his shirt, since I pilfered it from his collection — feels so good, it’s hard to hang onto all the thoughts in my head about staying away from him; about putting an end to this before anything else happens between us.

Very important thoughts… about him… and me… and his lips moving slowly up the column of my throat…

Shit!

All plans of holding him at arm’s length go up in smoke. The only way I want to hold him right now is closer, until we’re so intertwined I can’t tell his limbs from mine.

(I’m weak. So, sue me.)

“Good morning,” Luca murmurs, teeth scraping my earlobe.

“Where’s Fenway?”

“Inside.”

“How was your walk?” I ask, unable to resist leaning back into him.

He chuckles — a low, sexy sound that vibrates against my back. “We attempted a game of fetch. It didn’t go well.”

“He’s barely mastered walking a straight line on a leash, and you expect him to retrieve a flying object for you?” I snort. “Good luck with that.”

He chuckles again and I feel my stomach flip in response. Before I can talk myself out of it, I turn in his arms, so my back is to the railing, and drape my wrists over his shoulders.

“This is a pretty nice place to start the day,” I inform him.

“Oh yeah?”

I nod.

He leans in, until his mouth is lingering just over mine. “It’s even better with you here.”

His lips close the remaining distance to deliver a light, sweet peck. Tightening my hold around his neck, I push up onto my tiptoes to kiss him harder. Deeper. A bit more desperately.

If our kisses are numbered, I have to make the most of them while I still can. I’ll be living on their memory for the rest of my life.

My fingers slide into his hair as my tongue pushes into his mouth. Groaning in response to my sudden ardor, Luca starts walking backward, his mouth never breaking away from mine as we move across the deck, through the door, into the kitchen. Our hands are ravenous for each other, sliding under hems and reaching for waistbands. We’re almost to the bedroom, when we walk into a wall of cardboard.

“Fuck!” Luca curses, turning to push the stack of boxes aside. He looks back at me, eyes glittering with heat. “Where were we?”

I don’t react when he reaches for me. I can’t. Because my eyes are stuck on the stacks of boxes all around us. Familiar boxes. My boxes. The ones I left in my apartment.

They definitely weren’t here a half hour ago, when I woke up. I don’t know how on earth he got them inside without me noticing. He must’ve moved in total stealth while I was out sunning on his patio.

All my thoughts and worries come rushing back as my eyes sweep around. The sight of my things, here in his home, is giving me heart palpitations. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run, to dodge, to push the eject button before this gets any more serious. Before I’m led down a path that will only lead to tragedy.

My wild gaze cuts to Luca’s.

“Your note said you were out for a walk. A WALK! Not out secretly removing all my belongings from my house while I was asleep and thus unable to stop you!”

“We were out for a walk.” Luca pauses. “Didn’t say which neighborhood we were walking in, or what we happened to be carrying while taking our walk back and forth from my truck to your doorstep.”

I let out a scream.

In solidarity, Fenway attempts to bark from his bed in the kitchen, looking more than a little pleased with himself at the resulting yap.

“Luca. Please listen to me. This is nuts.” I shove my hands into my long red waves. “I’ll go to Phoebe’s. I’ll stay at a hotel. I’ll put my stuff in storage. I’ll give it all away at a yard sale. But this…” I gesture around at my belongings. “This is not happening. It can’t.”