Page 40 of Siren's Heart

"I want to taste you," I mumble against his chin before brushing my lips against it, but he shakes his head blows a heavy breath.

"Too late. Almost there already," he presses out, biting his lip and burying his head in between my shoulder and neck. I swallow down my disappointment and instead lick a trail up his throat.

I like having this effect on him. The way he had to adjust himself when I teased him in the studio, and the way he hardened as soon as we kissed in that alley are the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

I love a responsive man because it makes me feel sexy. Desirable. He makes me feel sexy and desirable. The way his hot gaze follows each of my movements, burning into my skin and sending shivers down my spine. The way his face stretches into a grin when he finds spots that make me moan, and each of his touches is just laced with adoration and gentleness. The way he makes my damned heart flutter with every single word that comes out of his mouth.

I stroke him faster, and he bucks into my fist, his muscles tensing. Before I know it, he curses under his breath and buries his face in the crook of my neck, groaning as he pulses in my hand and cums all over my stomach.

He reaches between us and covers my hand with his, stroking himself with my hand until he stops shaking, panting against my skin.

Exhausted, he releases my hand, and I let him go. With a happy sigh, he lowers his body onto me, effectively trapping me between his body and the mattress, a warm prison I don't think I ever want to escape from.

"Fuck," he curses against my skin, snaking his arms around my back as he repositions himself to lay his chin between my breasts, the scruff on his chin tickly on my skin. "I promise, when I fuck you, I'll take my time."

"Even if not, we've already established our creativity," I assure him, and his chuckle reverberates through my whole body. I run my hand through his hair, loving the feeling of his soft strands between my fingers as I caress his scalp, with my other hand stroking the hair in his neck.

His breath evens out, and I feel the tension seep out of him. With a satisfied sigh against my collarbone, he lifts himself off me and lays down on the mattress. His eyes speak a silent invitation, and I cuddle into his side, a happy sigh falling from my lips when he drops a kiss atop my hair that makes my heart flutter.

I’m sticky, sweaty, and exhausted, but I’ve never been happier. I could definitely use a shower, but I wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. And there’s no way I’m getting up right now.

"Just to make it clear, I really like you," I blurt out against his neck and press a small kiss against his skin. I don’t dare look up, my eyes fixated on his chest, rising and falling with each breath as I wait for his answer.

"That's great because I really like you too. Just in case you haven’t noticed yet," he whispers against my hair, and I can feel him smiling. A relieved sigh leaves my lips, and my heart does a happy flip in my chest. Thank God. Logically, I was very sure that he has motives that exceed sex, but my heart? My heart is a insecure bitch sometimes.

"Great,” I say with a smile, feeling a bit dumb at the response. “But, before this continues," I continue and scoot further up until we lie facing each other, only centimeters apart. Close enough to kiss, close enough that I would be able to count his freckles if it weren’t so dark in the room. I hate to kill the mood, but I have to. "There are a few things we need to talk about."

"Yeah? Like what?" He cups my face, burying his fingers in my hair as his thumb strokes my face, worry clouding his face in the form of a troubled wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"Are we going public with our relationship?"

He lets go of my face, instead reaching for one of my curls, twisting it in his fingers as he looks somewhere behind me, rolling my question over in his head.

"I mean, I'm not planning on keeping you a secret," he answers, sounding a bit confused at the question. The corners of his mouth lift into a grin, and his frown smooths out. "I'm not about to hold a press conference, not right now at least, but I don't really give a fuck if any paparazzi catch us, either."

"You're saying that now," I sigh and lower my gaze to his Adam's apple, anxiety settling in my stomach and making my heart beat faster. "The media hates me. They'll release articles about why we shouldn't be together: why you're too good for me, how promiscuous I am for having ex-boyfriends, and I don’t know what else they might think of. The list goes on." The more I talk, the faster the words fall from my lips as I work myself into a frenzy.

Will Luca leave me, too? He might think he can handle it and might even be convinced he won’t care about what others say, but what if he’s wrong? He wouldn’t be the first one.

I let out another deep sigh, swallowing the emotion blocking my throat. "I just... I don't know. I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but it’s a lot. I want to enjoy this a bit more in private, without prying eyes on our every outing."

"We can do that," Luca assures me, his voice washing over me like a calming wave. "But whatever some random news outlet writes about you doesn't concern me, like, at all. I probably won't even see it. And even if I did, I don't care. I know you have a past. Shocker, I have one, too. And the only one who can decide if you’re good enough for me, is me."

"Trust me, it's easier to say than live through it," I tell him and shake my head. "You might think you're used to the paparazzi, but for Kayla and I... The whole dynamic is very different from what you're used to. I've had reporters befriend my boyfriend's sisters in order to get a story on me, and paparazzi have tried to pay off my hairdresser to dig up dirt about me. Wherever we go, we walk on eggshells, always wondering if what we’re saying will become a magazine headline."

"And I don't give a fuck," he reiterates, and I don't know if he's confident or just really damn stubborn, but he lays his finger under my chin to raise my face to him until I meet his resolute gaze.

"It's not just you, though," I continue with a sigh, averting my eyes. "Your family is going to be affected as well. Paparazzi will wait in front of your parents' home day and night, shouting at them whenever they return or leave, asking about me. They don't care if we've never met. The cops won’t do shit because they’ll stay on a public sidewalk. They'll stalk your sister in the hopes that she's meeting me." His eyebrows furrow, and a muscle in his jaw starts to tick as he pulls his lip between his teeth. "I'm not saying this to be dramatic, Luca. I'm telling you that's what will happen. Inevitably."

He takes a deep breath, his eyes dancing over my strained face. "I'm sure Van can come up with a solution."

"Then maybe you should talk to Van before you tell me your final decision on this, alright?" I draw a circle over his heart with my fingertip, feeling its thump beneath his skin.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to walk through Philly with you hand in hand, people be damned, but it's just not my life," I say quietly, biting my lip as I feel a sting forming behind my eyes as tears gather in them. “I’ve had my heart broken so often by guys so convinced they could handle it. I just don’t think I can go through that again.” My voice breaks, and Luca pulls me flush against him.

"Just…take a bit to think about it, alright?” I ask him, swallowing down the emotion in my throat. “Talk to your family, Van, whoever. Just make sure they know what to expect and have your back. I've suffered through enough heartbreak because of the damned media, and if you don't think you can do it, I'm sorry, but I’m going to need you to walk away."

"Not going to happen, I can tell you that much," he assures me, laying his big, warm hand on my cheek and wiping away a tear. "I'm not going anywhere."

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