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luca

Three Months Later

I f someone had told me three months ago that I’d be hauling my worldly possessions into a high-rise apartment with its own freight elevator, I would’ve laughed in their face.

Laughed.

Mocked.

Told them to eat drywall.

But here I am. Sweaty.

Winded.

But Luca, what are you doing? You own a home!

True. I do own a house—and a large one at that—with a fenced in backyard, three-car garage, a built-in grill I haven’t figured out how to use, and a living room bigger than Nova’s entire apartment. And I left it.

Voluntarily.

If I’m going to find out what it’s like to live with a woman—to really live with one—then I want it to be her.

Let that sink in.

I’m not selling the house or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. Cash and Skaggs are currently fighting over the primary bedroom (which is prime real estate) and deciding whether or not to rent out the other bedroom or turn it into an office.

I mean, yeah—I’ve had to downsize tons of my shit. Like, a lot. Half my wardrobe is currently vacuum-sealed in the back of Nova’s closet. My hockey gear now shares space with a box labeled “fall throw pillows” and since there are more hair products lining the shower ledge than I’ve ever seen in one spot at once, mine are gone. I’ll use hers.

I’m currently schlepping a heavy box labeled LUCA’S IMPORTANT SHIT (DO NOT TOUCH) that I know for a fucking fact she has opened. So goddamn nosey, that one.

Horrible at following directions.

But I’m here because I want to be.

Because I’m stupid in love with her.

Because I can’t keep waking up without her beside me.

“How many shoes does one woman need?” I grumble as I step into the walk-in closet, damn near tripping over her collection of boots, heels, and whatever the hell those bejeweled sandal-things are called.

Nova’s apartment is massive.

Like, absurdly large for someone who has always lived alone, and I can’t believe this view is going to be mine, now, too. The tall ceilings, massive windows…this view of the city skyline…

The bed in the center of the wall.

And can we talk about the kitchen? So jacked about the kitchen space; I can hide all the unnecessary appliances and shit I’ve accumulated over the past few years as a bachelor. What is that one thing called that cooks frozen crap in ten minutes? An air fryer?

Now this place is mine.

Kind of.

Sort of.

Officially, yes. Emotionally? Still getting there.

“You’re breathing so loud!” Nova shouts, precariously balancing on a step stool to rearrange her spices to accommodate mine.

“I’m literally doing manual labor,” I yell back. “You try carrying six boxes of sports gear from the car and into the building.”

“They probably have three things in them.” She snorts. “You brought, like, four hoodies and a drawer of dirty socks.”

She’s not wrong.

I actually don’t have much shit but left loads of it at the house in storage.

“You can’t throw socks away—some of them are lucky.”

She pokes her head around the corner. “Just don’t mix your lucky socks into mine, kay?”

What a pain in the ass.

God, I love her.

I drop the last box with a grunt and lean against the kitchen island like I’ve just scaled Everest, hands braced on my knees, sweat clinging to the back of my neck.

It slides in slow drips down the small of my back.

“You know,” she says, one brow arching. “For someone who claims to be in peak physical condition, you were breathing kinda heavy.”

I stare. “Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?”

Nova shrugs. “Maybe.”

My brows go up.

Oh.

Oohhh….

Nova’s laugh bubbles up as she steps down off the stool and leans her hip against the island, eyes sparkling, lips curved in that devilish way that makes my stomach do all kinds of embarrassing flips.

“Babe,” I say slowly, stepping closer. “Do you know what happens to bratty girls who tease their boyfriends? They get spankings. ”

Nova’s eyes widen—just a fraction—but her smirk doesn’t budge. “Promise?”

Oh, hell yes.

My hands find her waist; I tug her gently closer until her thighs brush mine. Her breath catches and I know I’ve got her. “You’re mouthy for someone about to be bent over a marble countertop.”

“You’re all talk,” she whispers, voice full of excitement, clearly begging to be proven wrong.

My brow arches. “That right?”

She squeals out of my grasp and tries to dart around the island, but I catch her by the waist again, spinning her and lifting her up onto the marble so I can step between her legs.

Her hands graze my arms; they’re sticky from all my sweat, blood and tears.

“You’re filthy,” she breathes, grinning wide, hands grasping at the hem of my T-shirt and tugging it up. “I want to lick you all over your naked body.”

“Be my guest.”

“Mmm.” Her tongue darts out and she flicks my nipple. “Wanna make out?”

“Obviously.” Is that even a real question?

Our mouths crash together like magnets—hungry, a little desperate, and full of that adrenaline you get when you know you’re about to do something really, really sexy.

Nova tastes like cinnamon gum and sin, and she kisses like she means to ruin me.

My hands slip under the hem of her shirt, fingers skimming warm skin, and her little sigh against my mouth just about does me in.

She shifts against me, legs bracketing my hips as she leans back on the counter and tugs me closer. My hands cup her thighs, thumbs brushing higher. Her fingers wind into my hair and tug.

“Oh shit,” I mutter against her jaw, kissing down her throat .

“God, I love your hands. They’re so rough.”

“Yeah? You like that?”

Nova takes one and places it on her tit with a moan. “Yes—but you know what I’d like even better ?”

I am all ears. “What?”

“Your dick in my mouth.”

My cock goes rock-hard in my jeans like it’s spring-loaded, and I immediately thank whatever deity is responsible for blessing me with this woman. Nova fucking Montagalo—beautiful, wicked-smart, is completely obsessed with me.

And I her.

God we’re lucky.

I step back enough for her to slide off the counter, her hands already going for the button of my fly. There’s a gleam in her eyes that says she means business—the kind of business that involves tongue and

No.

Gag.

Reflex.

The woman of my absolute fucking dreams.

Her hands slide beneath my shirt, palms dragging up my ribs in slow, lazy strokes that make my skin tighten. She presses closer, and I feel the soft swell of her body against mine.

“I’m really glad you’re here, babe.” Her nails drag over my pelvis as she lowers to her knees…

“Yeah?” I brush a strand of hair from her face, my hands trembling from the sheer overload of wanting her. “You glad I’m here because I plan on walking around shirtless—or because I’m going to bring you coffee in bed every morning?”

She nods slowly. “I want you to feel at home.”

Good.

Yes.

I feel so, so welcome here…

Her deft fingers pull at my jeans, parting my zipper, reaching into my boxers to release my? —

Ding-dong.

We both freeze.

“Motherfucker,” I groan, forehead thudding against the cabinet. “Tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

Nova groans and drops her forehead dramatically against my stomach.

“It is. It’s Poppy.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” My dick is so hard right now and I want to bury it inside her mouth. “Can’t we ignore her?”

I am desperate and deranged.

“No we can’t ignore her.” Nova rises from her knees. “She’s in town for a job interview, remember? If she gets the job, she’ll be moving here.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

My girlfriend straightens her shirt and tidies herself. “Be glad she’s staying in a hotel this weekend and not the guest bedroom.”

I know she’s right. I do know that. But also: my dick wants to burrow.

“Well, she sure has a sixth sense for cockblocking.”

“You poor baby.” Nova pats my cheek with the palm of her hand as I zip my jeans. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you.”

I love this woman more than I’ve ever loved anything. More than hockey. More than pizza. Hell, maybe even more than sleep, and that’s saying something.

“Promise?”

She tiptoes, pressing a kiss to my lips at the same time she reaches between our bodies and gently squeezes my balls. “You know I will, Ace.”

She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and not simply because the sex is amazing.

The buzzer sounds again, and Nova trots off to let her best friend up, calling something cheerful over her shoulder like, “Fix your face!” as she disappears down the hall.

Fix my face ?

I glance at my reflection in the window of the microwave. Yep. I look like shit. Like a dude who was five seconds from getting his cock sucked in his kitchen, disappointed and exhausted etched on my expression.

SO close.

But so far away…