“Hmm.”
She reaches up, gripping onto my arm, squeezing tightly like she never wants to let go.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Lena
I reach across the bed when I wake, looking for Luca or Jackson. It feels so natural, as though I’ve done this hundreds of times before. I have to remind myself this is the first time we’ve ever shared a bed.
My head feels groggy, my body sort of floaty, the way I get after a nap. The room is bright with sunlight, glowing through the curtains.
“Luca?” I call. “Jackson? Boy?”
“He’s all right.”
I sit up to find Luca walking through the door, closing it behind him. He’s wearing a T-shirt and gym shorts, showing off his muscled arms, every inch taut and ready. Protectiveness emanates from his muscled chest, and his legs are fit, strong-looking. His silver hair is still wet from the shower.
“I didn’t want to wake you, but I think he was hungry. The housekeeper is walking him with a couple of my guards. He seems happy enough, but I told her to keep her cellphone on in case you wanted him back.”
“No,” I say quickly, heart whelming. “You thought of everything, huh?”
He smirks, walking to the end of the bed.
There’s no way for me not to see how excited I’m making him merely by sitting here.
The fabric of his shorts is loose, meaning when his member gets hard, I can make out the whole outline. It’s a thick mass of lust, causing a shimmer to taunt me and tell me I’ll never be able to please him.
As he walks around the bed, I spot some items in his hands. I didn’t even see them before.
I can’t stop looking at his crotch, at how casually hard I’m making him. I’ve never felt so wanted, so sexy, and it only doubles when I look into his eyes and find that glint there.
It’s the glint that tells me he’s ready, readier than I’ll ever be.
He’s holding a small plastic tub and some plastic sheeting.
“I thought I’d clean and treat your tattoo,” he says. “If you don’t mind?”
Just the thought of him touching me has my body aching.
“No,” I whisper, mouth dry. “Thank you. Will I be able to shower after?”
He nods. “It’ll be fine. But I’d advise handling the showerhead instead of standing under it. That way, you won’t get it too wet.”
“Okay.”
The conversation seems innocent enough, but it’s like there’s an extra meaning to everything we’re saying. It’s the way he’s looking at me, with his lips twisted into a savage smirk, with his body seeming on the verge of erupting.
“Show me the bird, then, Lena.”
He kneels at the edge of the bed. I move so that I can offer him my ankle, wincing a little when it stings.
“Is it bad?” he asks.
“No,” I tell him. “I mean, yes, a little…but don’t worry. I can take it.”
“I know you can. You’re a strong person.”
His words make me borderline giddy, my cheeks turning pink. And then, the flush spreads as he starts to softly dab at the area with a small hand towel from his pocket.
After, he begins to apply the cream, rubbing it tenderly.
Shivers move up my shin, over my knee, all the way to my sex as he does it. It doesn’t take long, but it’s enough to make my lips sore and my clit ache.
“I should really shower,” I murmur as he leans up the bed, bringing his lips toward mine. “I stink.”
“Do you think I care?” he growls. “You’d be sexy after ten days of not showering. You’re irresistible.”
I remember what Izzy said.
Go with the flow. Go with what feels right.
So I kiss him, collapsing into the lust, trying not to think about what he might want after.
He grunts through the kiss, his hand on my thigh, squeezing greedily and making my flesh scorch. He makes another savage sound as he firmly grinds up my leg, getting closer and closer to my soaked pussy, and my needy clit.
“Keep moaning like that,” he demands, breaking off the kiss.
“Like… like… like what?” I gasp, just about managing to push the words out.
“Like that,” he smirks. “Fuck, I need to see those tits as I finger your sweet little slit.”
I keep making the noises he likes as he grabs my T-shirt with his free hand. I must’ve taken my hoodie off at some point before I went to sleep. He lifts the T-shirt over my head, growling when he sees I’m not wearing a bra.
“Fuck. Ing. Hell.”
He leans back, staring at my breasts, his eyes wide and his jaw tight.
“Your tits are as perfect as everything else.”
Perfect.
The word replays in my mind. It would be difficult to believe he’d describe me in this way if it weren’t for the clear captivation on his face.
It’s like everything in his entire world is turned toward me, like nothing else exists or could exist.