Page 52 of Luca

“In name only.”

His eyes are hard as he stares at me, and before he says another word, his lips crash to mine. I drop the bowl in the sink and let out a gasp, allowing Luca to invade my mouth with his demanding tongue.

He pulls away and stares into my confused gaze. “Not in name only.”

Before I can think better about what a monumental mistake this could potentially be, I do what any rational person in my position would do and throw my arms around his neck, fusing my lips to his.

Teeth clanking and tongues tangling, I let out a deep moan, which makes Luca tighten his grip around my waist, pressing me so tightly into him it’s as though he’s trying to meld our bodies into one. He spins me around and my back crashes into the counter of the island separating the kitchen from the living room, and I let out a grunt of discomfort.

“Shit, sorry,” Luca says, breaking the kiss.

“It’s fine. Don’t stop.” I slam my mouth to his again, tangling my fingers in the short strands of his dark hair.

His strong hand cradles my lower back to keep it away from the edge of the counter as his other moves to my waist under my sweater. His fingers glide up my waist and around to the front of my shirt and over my ribs, his thumb rubbing the skin just under the cup of my bra.

Luca breaks the kiss, and his gaze bores into me, his touch so close to where I want it but not quite there.

“This is probably a bad idea,” he says but doesn’t make a move to pull away.

“It could be.”

“I know you don’t see this marriage as real, and I unders—”

“Luca,” I interrupt. “Can we please talk about this later when your hand isn’t up my shirt?” I quirk a brow. “If you stop now, I will fucking scream. We can figure it out later, but right now, I need you to please shut the hell up.”

“You’re very demanding,” he says roughly as the tension between us threatens to explode. “I thought Italian wives were supposed to be sweet to their husbands.”

“Um, have we met? What part of me do you think is sweet?”

The feral grin that widens his mouth sends shivers down my spine. “I’m not sure. But I’m going to find out.”

Luca’s lips travel down the column of my neck, licking and sucking the heated flesh as he goes. “That’s pretty sweet.” His hands find the bottom of my sweater, and he tears the material over my head before grasping my waist in his large hands. His lips continue their descent over the hollow of my throat to the tops of my lace-covered breasts. “Still sweet,” he says, trailing his palms up my sides, landing just below my breasts as he swipes his thumbs over my hardened nipples. I stare at him, my breaths coming in hard pants as I watch him lower himself to his knees. My hands grip the edge of the counter to keep myself upright as my legs threaten to give out from the sight before me—Luca on his knees, his blue eyes darkened with a look I’ve never seen from him. Lust, pure and unadulterated and finally able to be acted upon.

His hands move to the waistband of my pants, and he pulls just a touch, his brows lifting as if asking permission.

“Please,” I say in a whisper. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes hold mine as he kisses my skin right above the elastic waist of my pants then slowly pulls the material down past my hips and over my thighs—holding my gaze with every inch of skin he exposes. When my pants are completely off, his eyes move to my center, surely seeing my panties soaked through. If I could form thoughts, I might be embarrassed to have him on his knees staring at the wet spot on the front of my panties, but the only thing I feel is an intense ache in my core that I need him to fucking do something about. But apparently my husband loves to torture me.

His thumb glides right over the wet spot, and I gasp. He lets out a low growl deep in his throat before pulling the lace down my legs then using the tip of his tongue to part my lower lips. I jerk my hips at the slight contact and thank the fucking heavens he’s done teasing me in the next breath. His tongue runs over my clit in quick, precise movements before my fingers grab hold of his hair, holding his head at my center as he devours my pussy with his hot mouth. Luca slips a finger inside me, then two, stretching me and pumping his hand in and out.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Right there,” I moan as my legs begin to shake. He groans and between the vibrations, his expert tongue and his finger, I come undone, screaming out his name as waves of bliss wash through me. He removes his fingers from my core, but his tongue still moves in circles around and over my clit as he follows me down, wringing every last bit of pleasure from me.

When he pulls away, he looks up at me, a wide, wet smile taking over his face. “Very sweet.”

“Holy shit…that was…” I can’t seem to form words as he stands to his full height.

“That was the first one,” he says, quirking his mouth in a satisfied smirk.

Holy. Shit.

Chapter fifteen

Luca

Ithink this is the first time I’ve ever seen Giada speechless. Hell, if I knew this would have done the trick, I would have eaten her sweet cunt months ago. And fuck, my wife tastes fucking delicious.

“You’re a little overdressed,” Giada says, nodding at my shirt and jeans I’m still wearing.

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