Page 6 of Sucker Love (Sugar Pill Duet #1)

“I’ll go ahead and state the obvious that we’re both interested in each other.

If you want that to culminate to something, it can.

Or you can just be my roommate.” I shrug.

I’m non-threatening. I’m not pushy. I’m apparently the small child, a young na?ve twenty-something who he is terrified of taking advantage of. Whatever.

He watches me. There’s that heat, still, lingering in his gaze, and it prickles my skin.

Oh, yes, he definitely still wants me, regardless of whatever inhibitions or morals or whatever is stopping him from admitting it.

I’m decently versed in desire; I have almost certainly slept with more people than he has.

By now I have a pretty good idea of when someone wants me.

Gaze still on mine, he reaches across the table and snaps a piece of my cookie off and offers it to me. My lips curve in a smile as I delicately pluck it from his fingers with my teeth, and as I chew he says, “Where do you live?”

“The Fens.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” He’s wry. “Alright. Let’s see this apartment of yours, Noel.”

Luca has a pickup truck, and so in ten minutes we’re already back at my place.

It’s a brick walkup that looks identical to every other building in this neighborhood.

Nothing terribly special in and of itself.

It has one brilliant feature, though, and arguably its biggest selling point: it faces the lush, verdant parkland that is the Back Bay Fens, one link in the Emerald Necklace (not that it’s very lush in the winter).

Never mind the stories about all the horrible things that happen there after dark.

I’ve never encountered anything worse than intoxicated undergrads .

Luca makes appreciative note of this as he parks in the street in front of my building—the parkland, not the alleged late night crime that may or may not occur there—and peers out of the rain-soaked windows. “You’ve got the best spot in the neighborhood,” he remarks.

“Yup. Perfect for walking a dog.”

He laughs a little. “You haven’t met my dog. She’d rather rot than walk.”

I hop out of the cab, sidestep a puddle, and lead him up to the third floor where my unit resides.

This is where the hard sell might begin, because despite being a two bedder, it is not a large space at all.

There’s nice hardwood flooring, large windows and a light gray wash over the walls.

All details that try making it seem bigger than it is, but these features cannot distract from the three-digit square footage.

Nor how the front door will bang into the TV stand unless you open it very carefully, or that the washer and dryer are tucked into the kitchen beside the fridge, or the cramped bathroom that has barely enough room to turn around in.

I’m concerned Luca will think it’s too small for him and his dog as he steps in past me to look around.

Or that he will judge the easel with its half-finished painting crammed beside the loveseat.

Or that the free bedroom—which is the smaller of the two, because of course I took the larger one for myself—is not adequate for his needs.

I say nothing and let him show himself around, and thankfully it’s all relatively tidy so there’s nothing to be embarrassed of.

It’s probably nicer than the average college student’s apartment, I reason with myself .

I just want him to say yes.

It has nothing to do with my attraction to him, or at least not a lot to do with it.

It’s true that I don’t want to sift through Craigslist looking for a new roommate.

Someone who won’t smoke in the apartment, who won’t keep crazy hours or complain about the paint and who won’t be a complete slob.

And true, I don’t know if that’s Luca. It could be that he parted ways with his wife because he’s a disgusting motherfucker.

It could be I’m taking a huge chance on a man I’ve known less than twenty-four hours.

Maybe he’s the next Boston Strangler. Who knows?

Yes, I’m reckless and prone to my impulses. Whatever. I’ve just got a feeling. This is kismet, fate, whatever you want to call it—not that I believe in that sort of thing. But two guys on the rebound, both in need of resolving their living situations, walk into a bar...

I also want to keep Luca in my orbit. I have the feeling he’ll slip away from me if I don’t pursue him with a resolve that can only be defined as unflinching.

And pursuing him is my modus operandi here.

It’s not even just about the potential sex, though there is also that.

He’s more complicated than he seemed at first glance.

Complicated guys are, unfortunately, a drug to me.

Not that I think I can fix him or anything. I’m not capable of fixing anyone. Not even myself.

So I stand near the couch and watch Luca, my bottom lip between my teeth as he tours the place, which of course doesn’t take very long.

The smaller bedroom is barren without all of Jordan’s things: like the treadmill he never once used, or the sound system and the accompanying vinyl collection.

Luca doesn’t remark on much until he circles back to me in the tiny living room.

“It’s a cute place,” he says. “Nicer than I thought it would be.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I think.”

“How much a month?” he asks. “My half, I mean.”

“Eighteen hundred. Includes hot water and heat. And it’s pet friendly, the landlord won’t freak about that.”

He nods and pushes his hands in his pockets. “I could get a place by myself for that,” he reasons, more to himself than me.

I answer him anyway. “Closer to work?” I remember the address of his tattoo shop from the card. I know it’s not far from here, just a hop and a skip away. “They’re all tiny boxes around here, you know.”

He glances over at me with a crooked smile. “I need to think about it,” he temporizes. “It’s just a lot of change for me. All at once, everything...” He trails off, but his meaning is clear.

“Sure. You’ve got my number.” I wonder if this is a prelude to him leaving, and I don’t want him to leave. I desperately want to prolong his stay. He seems to be easily overwhelmed, though. And I have my assignment to slave over for the rest of the day, so it’s better if he does go.

But Luca doesn’t move to leave just yet.

He doesn’t look at me with the expectancy of someone who wants to be told to leave.

He’s still sort of gazing around, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind though I have no idea what conclusion they’re rolling toward.

He steps over to inspect the half-finished painting, a black and white gouache abstract, then turns back to me. He’s standing quite close .

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

I fold my arms, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “Shoot.”

“That whole theme at the club.” He’s crossed his arms too now, but he’s nervous, anxious, something. “You’re into that kind of thing? Being...tied up, hit, whatever? Kink?”

“Do you know where you were last night, Luca?”

He takes a deep breath. “Just answer the question.”

No one can say I’m not merciful. I put him out of his misery without toying with him. “I’ve never really done it,” I tell him honestly. “But I want to.”

His green eyes search mine. For what, I don’t know.

He reaches out and slowly, gently, moves my hair back from my face and behind one ear.

His fingers are warm and I realize my face is cold.

I want to push my cheek against his palm but I don’t.

I hold very still, like he’s a prey animal prone to fleeing from sudden movements. I may even hold my breath.

“I don’t know if I am,” he tells me. His hand lingers against my face, cradling it almost. “Into those things. I’ve never done anything like it, either.”

“One way to find out if you are or not.” I say this carefully, evenly. Holding back just how earnest I feel about finding out what he is exactly into.

“Just that easy, huh?”

“It kind of is,” I agree.

I know what he’s going to do before he moves. Can see it in his eyes, how they seem to almost flare with curiosity and need, black pupil swallowing the lovely pale green until they are dark indeed .

And then he closes what distance remains between us as I raise my face to his.

Our lips meet at last in the fierce kiss that’s been waiting to happen since last night and it’s every bit as good as I was hoping it would be.

He pulls me closer, sinking one hand into my hair and tilting my head, deepening the kiss.

My mouth parts beneath his and his tongue touches mine, tentative at first and then more bravely, a caress then a sweep.

I moan for him and my arms wind around his neck.

My stomach is taut, I already feel hot all over, my cock hard enough to cut glass and I’m pushing it up against him. He feels just as hard through the jeans. He groans against my mouth and it’s a guttural, almost helpless sound as he seizes my waist.

I’m dying to try him.

Luca’s mouth finds my throat bared when he breaks the kiss at last. “I’m not looking for anything serious,” he murmurs against my skin.

“Me either,” I say breathlessly.