Page 83 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

He stopped wriggling, peeking at me through his bangs sheepishly, like being hungry was somehow a crime. He was lucky to get hungry at all. I jerked my head toward the phone that sat on top of the pale golden wood of the nightstand beside the bed.

“Twenty-four-seven room service.”

“Shiiiit,” Luca grinned, bouncing onto his knees. The bed rocked. “Seriously? I thought room service died in like the ‘90s.” He blinked at me, then his expression shifted, apprehension creeping back in. “Hey—What happens if someone finds us here?”

“They won’t.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah. But what if they do?”

“I’ll deal with it.” Just like I’d already decided. If I had to, I’d tell my secret. When he knew the power he held, there wasn’t a problem in the world we couldn’t solve. Possessing someone and driving off in their own car—while inconvenient—was a viable option. As was murder. Not that I could do either of those things without his permission.

I doubted Luca would mind if I had to take things into my own hands. After all, he hadn’t minded when I’d taken the form of one of the men from the club and used his ID to check us in to the hotel. He’d just blinked at me, squinted, then said “cool.” Like the fact my body was an easily changeable illusion was as interesting as a color changing coffee cup.

I shuddered.

Even just thinking of the word permission made my skin crawl.

There was so much Luca still didn’t know about me, and the secrets were beginning to feel like far too heavy a burden for one person to carry. Even me.

Like every hotel I’d stayed at in my youth, the room was covered in opulent, horribly patterned wallpaper, and gaudy white trim. The bathroom was close to the entrance, and with the door swung wide open, I could easily see the marble countertops and complimentary bottles of soap sitting beside the sink.

“Order what you want.” I repeated, waiting for the apprehension on his face to melt away. It did. Quicker than I expected. Clearly, he trusted me. I didn’t know what to do with that realization.

“What’s your favorite food?” Luca asked a few minutes later, laying on his stomach as he rifled through the menu he’d found in the top drawer of the nightstand. He flipped a page, and hummed.

“I don’t have one.” I glared.

“Everyone has a favorite food, Prudence. Even Prudence the Grouch. Since they don’t have Oreos, I suppose I’ll just have to guess.” I forced back my amusement. He’d had enough punishment for one day. He didn’t know it yet, but I was going to be really, really nice to him later. He’d won our competition, after all.

After he ate.

After we ate, apparently.

Which I only realized when half an hour later the clock blared a bleary five o’clock at us and room service arrived with enough food to feed an army.

Luca tipped the guy generously from one of his stolen wallets, shut the door, and turned to me with a sheepish smile. “You wouldn’t tell me what you liked, so I just grabbed a bit of everything? I figured we could make it a game, you know. But without the whole robbing people thing.”

“You and your games,” my heart fluttered. “Show me what you got.”

Luca spread the food across the bed, stacking pillows behind his body before he pulled the round silver lids off of the plates with a flourish, as dramatic as if he’d cooked the food himself.

“We’ve gooooot—” he gave plate number one a far too enthusiastic introduction, jazz hands and all, “baked Mac and cheese.”

I grimaced.

“Oookay. Got it.” Luca snorted. “How abouuuut—” He jerked another lid off and waited, his eyes bright.

“More burgers?” I arched a brow.

“Of course.” Another lid was tossed to the side. “And fries. I couldn’t forget the fries. You know, seeing as you are a fuckin’ fry thief. Clearly you like those.”

“Better,” I admitted, biting back a smile. The mattress looked comfortable, but I refused to sit. Being next to him right now felt like too…much. So I just floated to the side, like before in the car, letting my guard down enough I stopped pretending like gravity affected me.

“You can fly,” Luca said curiously, then yanked another lid off, casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “Of course he can fly, he’s a fuckin’ ghost, Luca,” he admonished himself under his breath, then spoke louder. “What about ice cream?” He blinked expectantly. Skeptically, I eyed the giant bowl of Neapolitan ice cream he’d uncovered in shock. Bananas were stacked along the edges, the top slathered in chocolate sauce, strawberry preserves, and a healthy pile of whipped cream.

“You ordered ice cream?” My brow knit. It did…look appetizing. “It’s going to melt by the time you finish your dinner.”

“Who says I’m not eating it first?” Luca grabbed one of the two spoons on the plate and waggled his eyebrows playfully at me. He shoved it into the chocolate section, making sure to scoop up whipped cream and berry sauce before he popped the spoon into his mouth with a happy moan. “Thee?” He slurred, chocolate smeared across his lips. “Ith delithouth.”

---