Page 63 of Stolen Seconds

And I was selfish when it came to him because I knew he’d break my fall. He’d shown me once that I didn’t have to be alone in my pain. And he continued to show me.

A sharp sensation drifted to my chest at the realization that I’d never stood a chance of avoiding him.

I could admit that I’d been malicious toward him, and it came from the wretched parts of my soul where it was hard for me to see the good in others.

I could also admit that he calmed a part of me that I never thought would rest. Every time I was with him, it felt as though the hollowness inside my chest was being stitched anew.

Luca had managed to breach that barrier and take a piece of me for himself.

He was unlike anyone I’d ever met before. As infuriating and maddening as he was, he managed to dig himself into my life without weighing the consequences.

A smile touched my face as I traced his aristocratic nose with my finger. The brute was a heavy sleeper, oblivious to the turmoil happening inside me.

I’d come to figure out that this wasn’t a game to him. That I wasn’t another object on his board.

Not when he’d cleaned my wounds for the second time.

Not when he accepted my silence for answers.

Not when he brought me back from my nightmares and held me as if he wanted to take my pain away. As if my feelings were valid.

The sting of unshed tears burned the back of my throat as I moved my finger down to his full lips. “The truth is, I do want you, Luca. I know that now,” I whispered, knowing he wasn’t conscious to hear my words.

I palmed his face, stroking the light stubble underneath. If only I could see those whiskey eyes of his.

Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his, a tear rolling down my cheek. “But you and I can never be.”

We’re on different sides of the same coin.

Whatever was happening between us had already exceeded to depths I shouldn’t have allowed, and I needed to put an end to it.

My father was waiting for me to complete my mission and I’d extended my stay in Italy longer than necessary. I needed to tell Nicolai who he was and leave.

It was better this way, less messy, and the last thing I needed was to be involved in something as complicated as this.

I rose from the bed carefully, reaching for my clothes from last night and hesitated, staring at his leather jacket before grabbing it.

He could get another one.

I took one last look at him and, because I was a masochist, I peered around his room in hopes of understanding him a little better.

His bedroom matched the rest of the house, earthy tones with darker shadings. It was simplistic, unlike himself.

I glanced back at Luca, stretched out across the bed. Life had carved his body into something haunting. Old scars and new covered by shades and lines of ink. Proof of his experience in depravity in some form.

Maybe in the next life, I’d have that time to trace them all.

My throat felt tight as I moved toward the door.

Until we meet again.

It was harder than I thought, sneaking back into Roman’s house, but I’d made it into my room without being noticed.

Immediately, I headed into the bathroom, stripped out of my clothes and stood beneath the shower head, rinsing the layer of filth I could never seem to get rid of.

The click of the door sounded, and I didn’t need to turn to know it was Aurora. No one else ever came into my room uninvited—except for that one time with Luca.

I touched my lips with my fingertips, remembering the devastating way he kissed me for the first time that night.

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