Page 158 of Bitter When He Begs

“Hey, look at me and breathe,” he says softly, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “Just breathe, baby.”

And the second I meet his eyes, I feel everything.All at once.

“I didn’t expect this,” I say, breathless and shaking. “I didn’t expectyou. I didn’t expect this night to feel like—like everything I never thought I’d get. You loveme.And I don’t know how to handle that. I don’t know how. It’s too much, and it’s too good, and I’m so fucking scared I’m gonna mess it up or lose it or—”

I choke on the next word, clutching at his button-down like it’s the only thing keeping me standing. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

Luca’s face folds in on itself like he feels it too deep. Like it guts him to see me like this.

He takes my glasses out of my hand without a word, tucks them into his pocket, and pulls me into his arms.

No speeches. No questions. Just him.

I bury my face in his shirt and cry so hard my shoulders shake. He rubs my back in slow circles, murmuring soft words I barely catch but feel like a balm on raw skin.

“You’re okay, baby,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to understand it. You don’t have to do anything right now. Just feel it. Just be here.”

“I don’t want to lose this,” I whisper against his chest. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he says, voice like steel wrapped in silk. “You’re mine. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care if you cry, if you panic, if you fall apart. I’m still here.”

And he means it.

I feel it in every inch of him—his steady hands, the way he holds me like something precious, like something real. He holds me until the worst of it fades, until the panic ebbs into exhaustion, until all that’s left is me, shaking and limp, and safe in his arms.

I sniff, dragging a hand down my damp face. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” Luca says, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “You didn’t ruin anything. You feel, Sage. That’s not a flaw.”

“I’m scared.”

“Me too,” he says. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe with anyone else.”

“I hate you for being this good at knowing what to say,” I mutter.

Luca chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin. “It’s just you, Sunshine,” he says, his voice lower now, almost reverent. “You make it easy.”

I don’t know how he does that. How he turns every moment into something that makes my heart feel too big for my chest.

Luca loves me.

And it’s terrifying, and it’s intense, and it’s too much, but I want it. My heart’s too full. My throat’s too tight. So I nod, resting my forehead against his again, just breathing him in. Letting him hold me together with nothing but his presence and his promise.

He doesn’t let go.

Not even when we climb back into the truck. He doesn’t say much, just lets the low hum of the radio fill the space between us, but every few minutes, I catch him glancing at me like he’s checking for cracks or making sure I haven’t shattered completely.

I haven’t and I won’t. Not when he’s looking at me like that.

By the time we pull up to his house, I feel lighter. Still overwhelmed, still unsure of how to process the weight of everything between us, but not afraid. Luca puts the truck in park and turns to me, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

“You good?” he asks.

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

He watches me for a second longer, then nods like he’s satisfied, like he believes me. Then, instead of getting out of the truck immediately, he lifts our joined hands and presses his lips to the inside of my wrist, holding them there for a beat before finally letting go.

My chest aches.