Page 103 of Can't Always Get What You Want

“Fucking morons.”

I laugh again, quieter this time. “You don’t even know any of them.”

We haven’t spoken about exes, though now that I’m thinking about it, perhaps we should. I have a bit of trauma from several of my break-ups that I should lay out for him so he understands some of my reactions…

“I don’t need to know any of them.” His hands move from my waist, back to my ass, his large palms caressing my backside. “If they didn’t worship you, they aren’t worth knowing.”

“I don’t want to scare you off,” I admit, fingers pausing where his skin is warmest. “Sometimes I overthink things. Sometimes I get quiet when I’m overwhelmed.”

His hand moves to cup my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “You’re allowed to be complicated.”

No one has ever given me permission to be myself: flawed. Imperfect.

Messy.

Luca exhales softly when my hand brushes his abs.

His body is beautiful.

Of course it is—it’s his literal job to be in peak physical condition. That doesn’t mean I don’t marvel at it, in awe of him. At the way strength and softness coexist so effortlessly in the same space.

And that’s what makes me want him even more.

Luca is mine.

Slipping my hand beneath me, I work the waistband of his boxer briefs, and his gorgeous body goes still—breathless with anticipation.

“You’re driving me insane,” he says, voice rough and low.

“Good,” I whisper, mouthing along the dip between his collarbones. “You’re not the only one.”

His boxers join the pile of clothes strewn beside the bed. I press against him, skin-on-skin, and we both go still for a moment.

Mmm so good…

The heat between us is heavy and consuming. But so is the tenderness.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, cupping my cheek.

I know. “Stupid nerves.”

His hands roam lower. Thumb stroking above my clit as I lean back, giving him access while I slowly move over his hard dick, getting wetter and wetter as he touches me.

He’s so focused.

We savor every inch of each other, drinking in the sight. Silently, the dog whining at the door occasionally.

Then.

I shift above him, guiding him, our bodies fitting perfectly.I feel it all the way to my core.

A gasp escapes my lips. Not because it’s too much—but because it’severything.

Luca braces my hips with his giant palms, anchoring me there as I move back and forth, his eyes closed. We stay that way, moving in sync, whispering and moaning and gasping.

Breathless nothings.

The moment stretches and burns and binds us.

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