Page 57 of Stolen Seconds

I stood conflicted, trying to force my thoughts into some semblance of order. I’d never been at war with myself like I was right now, and it had everything to do with the beating organ inside my chest.

In the end, I’d submitted to what I really wanted.

Luca turned his head toward me and even with his helmet on, I could feel his eyes tracing every inch of me as I straddled my bike.

He pulled out of the parking lot, and I followed him, my heart racing from adrenaline.

One more time, I told myself. One more time, I’d play this game and then I’d be done.

The streets were empty as we sped through the night. Riding became a different type of high when Luca was with me. It was nothing like the first time when he followed me home.

This was pure ecstasy coursing through my veins, an addictive sensation settling deep into my bones.

I leaned forward, gripping the handles as I rushed past him, chasing it further. I had no idea where I was going, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Luca flashed his lights at me, catching up to me with little effort before he flicked his gaze toward me at the same time I did.

My mouth split into a smile and it was exhilarating knowing he couldn’t see it. Hidden just like the confusing feelings I had for him.

He nudged his head to the left before steering that way and I slowed down to follow him.

After a few minutes, we pulled up to a familiar white building, the area scarce from passerby’s.

I removed my helmet and stared up at the art museum I’d met Luca at for the first time.

My heart pounded behind my rib cage as I peered over at him.“What are we doing here?”

“You said your first impression of me wasn’t memorable, so I’m. . . redeeming myself.”

I did but only to spite him. “I thought you already did that when you smeared your blood across my lips?” I asked sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest.

He lowered his head but not before I caught a glimpseof his grin. “I did, didn’t I?” He almost sounded pleased by what he’d done.

“Yes, you did, and I’d rather not repeat it.”

“Pity.” He walked toward me until our feet were touching. “A date then.”

I quirked a brow at him as butterflies swarmed in my stomach. “You don’t seem like the type who goes on dates.”

His eyes bore into me, deep enough to leave a scar on my soul. “That’s because I’m not.” He pulled a set of keys out of his leather jacket and nudged his head to the side. “After you.”

“Oh, cause you’re such a gentleman,” I hissed under my breath before striding toward the stairs.

The warmth of his chest pressed against my back as he leaned into my ear. “Only for you,piccola ribelle.”He placed a kiss beneath my ear, and I felt my resolve crumble right before my eyes.

He gave me affection so casually as if it were a normal occurrence for us. As if he’d given it to me a thousand times before.

When he unlocked the main door, I followed him inside, the automatic lights casting dimly in the foyer.

We walked down the hall until we reached the main display room. It appeared exactly the same as I remembered it except this time the art pieces weren’t erotic.

My eyes widened, captivated by the focus of these designs. Each piece was an intricate display of colorful chaos, harsh strokes and edges blurring along the canvas.

It was extraordinary and unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

I moved along the room, appreciating the uniqueness of them all until one had me pausing before it.

My chest caved as I stared at the peculiar creation. It was a black and white shading of a figure caged in an hourglass. The upper half of its body was intact, hands reaching toward the confined space of its entrapment and the bottom half was spilling down to the bowl where time ceased.

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