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nova

O ne minute I'm curled in the chair, warm and floaty from wine and sugar, and the next I'm perched on Luca's thighs like I belong there. Like I've always belonged there, I was just too stubborn to admit it.

His arms wrap around me instinctively, anchoring me in place. One of his hands rests low on my back, fingers splayed like he's trying to memorize the shape of me. The other is still curled around a wine glass, held slightly off to the side so we don't spill it on the rug.

God, this rug. Plush and overpriced.

Jeez.

I’m getting drunk.

I lean into his chest, letting my head rest against his shoulder. His heart beats steady and slow beneath my ear, and I think, this is the safest place in the world.

The grazing board sits within reach, and Luca bends forward to place a small cracker on my tongue, or more sugared pecans, hand-feeding me like I’m a pampered royal—which I’m not mad about…

I am a queen .

“You look so hot in my number,” he murmurs close to my ear, causing a shiver to reverberate down my spine.

His voice is so so good. Deep and good.

Yum.

“I almost had a stroke when Gio skated over and pointed to it—I didn’t want him to turn around and see that it was your number.”

Luca’s mouth moves into a thin line but then he quickly recovers. “Ha ha. I would have loved to see that.”

"And now that I’m here, it’s going to smell like you.”

“I could eat you up…”

I grin. Buzzed and happy and blissfully full of cheese. "You’re so horny."

"Very."

He sets his wine glass aside, freeing up his hand to rest on my thigh, just above the bend of my knee. His thumb starts to move in small circles, casual and possessive and completely unfair.

I feel like I'm floating. Not just from the wine, but from the quiet. The weight of his touch.

And somewhere in the middle of that floaty feeling, it hits me.

This is where I want to be.

Not just tonight. Not just on this rug or in his lap. But in general.

With him.

That realization doesn’t come with a crash or a panic. It’s not fireworks or a dramatic score. It’s just a slow, warm settling deep in my bones.

I want to be here.

I want to wake up tangled in his sheets and feed him sugared nuts and kiss his stupid perfect face whenever I want.

I want Luca.

The thought startles me a little, not because it’s scary, but because it’s true .

And once I let myself acknowledge it, it’s like everything else fades into the background. The sneaking around.

The guilt.

Gio.

The what-ifs.

They’re still there, but they’re quieter now.

He’s the softest, warmest, most unexpectedly gentle guy I’ve ever known and I might be completely, hopelessly, helplessly falling for him.

I rest my forehead against his collarbone and close my eyes. He smells like cedar, arms tightening around me a little, pulling me impossibly closer.

“Mmm.” Perfect.

His arms tighten a fraction more, like he wants to tuck me inside him. The wine buzz hums behind my eyes, softening everything except the sharp focus I have on this moment—his heartbeat beneath my cheek, the calloused pads of his fingers brushing my spine, the gentle heat that’s pooling low in my belly.

Then—without a word—he slides one arm beneath my knees and the other behind my shoulders.

I inhale a startled breath. “Luca?—”

He stands smoothly, holding me like I weigh nothing.

“Time to move you somewhere softer,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna fall asleep.”

So?!

Let me!

“I was comfortable .”

“You’ll be more comfortable in my bed.”

Okay fine. Twist my arm.

He starts toward it, my arms instinctively looping around his neck. I can feel the strength in his chest, the heat of his body against mine. My breath catches for a different reason now.

The kind of reason that has nothing to do with sleep.

Yay !

My vagina is excited now, silently tingling.

He leans in, presses a soft kiss to the top of my head, and walks to the dresser. Pulls out a plain T-shirt—worn, oversized, soft enough to melt into.

“Want something to sleep in?” he asks.

It’s a generous offer.

Respectful.

Exactly what he thinks I need.

I shake my head. “Hell no.”

I want to be naked. I want him to be naked, too, but first thing first.

Tugging at the hem of the hoodie I struggle to lift it over my head—almost get stuck—before tossing it to the floor. Now I’m only in my leggings and push up bra doing my darndest to perch delicately and sexily on the bed.

“Come here,” I whisper, holding out my hands, beseeching.

Come hither.

Luca doesn’t pounce like I expect him to.

Nope.

In true, gentlemanly fashion, he kneels in front of me, fingers skimming along the waistband of my leggings, not even bothering to try and peel them off. Not yet . No, he makes me wait, pressing a kiss to my sternum above the lace of my bra.

“Delicious,” he murmurs, causing my chest to tighten. “I like taking my time with pretty things.”

My hands move instinctively, threading through his hair, urging him closer, but he only chuckles softly against my stomach. A rumble I feel more than hear. He leans into the touch with a quiet sigh, then trails another kiss lower, over my ribs, my stomach, every inch of exposed skin.

I should be lavishing him with light touches—he’s the one who had a game tonight. He’s the one whose body is beat and bedraggled.

Still, he worships mine like it’s made of stars .

I pull gently at his hair, coaxing him to look up at me. His eyes flicker to mine, heavy-lidded and warm.

“You should be resting,” I whisper.

I swear, the man’s eyes twinkle when he says, “I am resting.”

Down come my leggings…

He stands, removing his T-shirt, then his joggers and socks.

Climbs up, onto the bed beside me.

I press a hand to his chest and nudge him so he’ll roll to his back— obedient, relaxed, trusting me to take the lead. The moment he settles his head into the pillows, he reaches for me, hands resting gently at my hips.

Good boy…

“You are so good at your job. You carried the whole game,” I murmur, fingers brushing over the bruise on his hip, the faint scrape near his shoulder. “Let me carry this. ”

He swallows.

Nods.

So I lean down and kiss him slowly.

My lips trail across the line of his jaw, down his throat, over the places I know ache, not that he would admit it.

My palms skim along his skin, mapping it out; his breathing grows ragged as he watches me like I’m the answer to every question he never knew he had.

I settle beside him again, hand on his chest, cheek pressed against his shoulder, he exhales like I’ve healed something in him.

“I already don’t want to go home later,” I whisper, speaking the things out loud I hate to admit. Too vulnerable.

His arm curls around me tighter. “Then don’t.”

It’s reckless, the way my heart stutters.

His words aren’t dipped in temptation or playful suggestion. They’re an invitation.

I peel off my leggings.

Move so I can straddle him, my knees sink into the mattress on either side of his waist, and the sigh he lets out is soft enough to undo me.

His eyes are on mine, steady.

One week ago, it may have unsettled me.

My hands find his shoulders, anchoring there. His palms slide up my thighs, a slow, reverent glide, not wanting to break the spell we've fallen into. I lean in, kissing the tip of his nose.

His chin.

The corner of his mouth.

The air between us crackles, not with urgency, but understanding.

“You okay?” I ask quietly.

He grins lazily. “Never better.”

I smile, kissing him again. His hands come up to cradle my face, fingers brushing the edge of my jaw. This kiss is slower, drawn out as if we’ve got all the time in the world …

My hands move up to tangle in his hair while his slide down my spine, settling on my ass, holding me close.

His touch is careful. Deliberate.

I shift, pressing my breaths against his chest and he groans softly into my mouth.

It’s not just need—it’s everything. Want. Relief. That strange, internal ache of finally having something you weren’t sure you could have.

I reach for the clasp of my bra.

Slide it off.

His breath catches.

Luca doesn’t touch me right away—he gazes at me as if I were a precious work of art.

“Jesus,” he whispers, voice thick. “You’re unreal. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you.”

Well.

Damn…

What does a girl say to that ?

I huff a quiet laugh, my face warming as I duck my head for a second—half-shy, half-emboldened by his words.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel sexy when she’s completely naked.” I laugh, self-consciously.

His eyes smile at me. “Isn’t that kind of the goal?”

I roll my eyes, biting down on my bottom lip.

“I’ve never…” I pause, not sure how to phrase this without sounding dramatic. Or needy. Or lame.

But he waits, patient and still.

“I’ve never had someone look at me like this before,” I confess.

“Fucking morons.”

I laugh again, quieter this time. “You don’t even know any of them.”

We haven’t spoken about exes, though now that I’m thinking about it, perhaps we should. I have a bit of trauma from several of my break-ups that I should lay out for him so he understands some of my reactions…

“I don’t need to know any of them.” His hands move from my waist, back to my ass, his large palms caressing my backside. “If they didn’t worship you, they aren’t worth knowing.”

“I don’t want to scare you off,” I admit, fingers pausing where his skin is warmest. “Sometimes I overthink things. Sometimes I get quiet when I’m overwhelmed.”

His hand moves to cup my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “You’re allowed to be complicated.”

No one has ever given me permission to be myself: flawed. Imperfect.

Messy.

Luca exhales softly when my hand brushes his abs.

His body is beautiful.

Of course it is—it’s his literal job to be in peak physical condition. That doesn’t mean I don’t marvel at it, in awe of him. At the way strength and softness coexist so effortlessly in the same space .

And that’s what makes me want him even more.

Luca is mine.

Slipping my hand beneath me, I work the waistband of his boxer briefs, and his gorgeous body goes still—breathless with anticipation.

“You’re driving me insane,” he says, voice rough and low.

“Good,” I whisper, mouthing along the dip between his collarbones. “You’re not the only one.”

His boxers join the pile of clothes strewn beside the bed. I press against him, skin-on-skin, and we both go still for a moment.

Mmm so good …

The heat between us is heavy and consuming. But so is the tenderness.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, cupping my cheek.

I know. “Stupid nerves.”

His hands roam lower. Thumb stroking above my clit as I lean back, giving him access while I slowly move over his hard dick, getting wetter and wetter as he touches me.

He’s so focused.

We savor every inch of each other, drinking in the sight. Silently, the dog whining at the door occasionally.

Then.

I shift above him, guiding him, our bodies fitting perfectly. I feel it all the way to my core.

A gasp escapes my lips. Not because it’s too much—but because it’s everything .

Luca braces my hips with his giant palms, anchoring me there as I move back and forth, his eyes closed. We stay that way, moving in sync, whispering and moaning and gasping.

Breathless nothings.

The moment stretches and burns and binds us.

I’ve never felt more seen.

More wanted.