Page 82 of Can't Always Get What You Want

I hesitate.

“Like my vagina is open for baby business.”

I feel ridiculous saying the words and they make us both laugh.

“Speaking of your vagina…”

Oh lord.

I pause mid-rinse, turning toward him with a damp dish in my hand and my eyebrows somewhere near my hairline. “Luca.”

He grins. Slow.

Wicked.

He smirks, not moving an inch away. “I didn’t properly acquaint myself with Mavis—barely an introduction.”

I hadn’t even had an orgasm before I demanded he kiss me.

“And then your brother showed up,” he adds as if reading my mind, as serious as a priest recounting a failed exorcism.

“Tragic,” I whisper.

“Haunting,” he agrees.

We stand there facing one another—me clutching the dish towel like it’s the only thing keeping me from reaching for him, and Luca looking down at me like he’s plotting a séance.

The exorcism Poppy says I so desperately need.

“I think,” he muses. “Mavis should have the closure she deserves.”

A nervous laugh bursts out of my throat. “Are you suggesting you seduce the ghost of my unresolved sexual tension?”

He steps closer, leaning in just enough to make my breath catch.

“Only if she’s ready.”

My pussy tingles.

Oh, she’s ready all right…

But I don’t say it.

I can’t say it.

Because the second I open my mouth, I’m going to end up either begging or combusting, and both feel equally appalling things to say out loud. His hand lifts, slow and careful, brushing the damp dish towel out of my grip, dropping it on the counter.

The moment his fingers graze mine, it’s over.

I surge forward at the exact same second he pulls me in, and our mouths crash together like we’ve both finally stopped pretending we weren’t waiting for this.

This kiss is not polite. Not tentative. It’s the kind of kiss that burns.

His hand finds the curve of my jaw, tilting me just enough for his mouth to slide deeper against mine. I moan before I can stop it, gripping the front of his shirt like it’s the only thing tethering me to the kitchen floor.

He walks me back until my spine hits the counter. It’s not rough, not rushed—it’sintentional. He’s here. He wants me. He wants to kiss me until I forget my own name and maybe even his.

His tongue slides against mine, and holy hell, if Mavis was still haunting me, she’s fully crossed into the light now.

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