Page 124 of Can't Always Get What You Want

Oh! “Help a girl out.”

He sits up just enough to let me peel it over his head, and tosses it somewhere over his shoulder without looking. His eyes never leave mine.

“I feel better already,” he teases.

“Don’t get cocky,” I warn, shifting so I’m straddling him. “You could be experiencing a placebo effect.”

“I most definitely am.”

I lean forward, chest brushing his bare skin, and whisper, “You’re my favorite patient.”

His mouth curves into a smile, but it fades a little as he looks up at me—like he’s trying to memorize this moment. The way I’m sitting on top of him. The way my hands are curled against his chest like I never want to move.

“I want you to know I’ve been thinking about you every single night since I saw you on the dating app.” He is struckwith a case of honestly, blurting out his truth. “Every single one.”

“Luca,” I whisper, overwhelmed.

He tilts his head, mouth brushing the corner of mine. “It was never just a crush, Nova.”

What is he saying?

What does that mean?

I stare at him, breath caught in my throat, trying to process what he's telling me—that all this time I thought we were playing a dangerous game ofdon't get caughtwhile he was genuinely longing for me. Missing me.

Falling for me.

I kiss him before my eyes swell with tears.

Kiss him hard.

Deep.

Pour all the pent-up emotion and need into this kiss to explain what I can’t say out loud.

He groans against my mouth, hands sliding up the back of my hoodie.

“You’re overdressed,” he murmurs.

“Help me then.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands slide under the fabric, warm against my skin, and he lifts it slowly. I raise my arms to let him pull it over my head, and suddenly we’re skin-to-skin, heart-to-heart, and I can’t remember a time I didn’t want this.

He drops a kiss on my collarbone, then another between my breasts, and I shiver as he touches me, fingers caressing my nipples.

I arch into him, every nerve ending lit up like the Fourth of July, and it still isn’t enough. I need more. I need all of him. Not just his touch—but his heart.

“Tell me again,” I whisper.

“That I’ve been thinking about you every night since I saw you on that app?” His mouth brushes my jaw.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“The first time I saw you was at the ESPY awards that year you were with Gio. I hadn’t been drafted yet, but my friend Karl played for the Bruins and I was his plus one. You were there with your brother and I thought, ‘Damn. That’s the kind of woman I want to end up with.’” His hand makes a slow descent down my arm. “You were blonde then.”

I was wearing a red dress, with red lips, and had only gone with Gio because his girlfriend had dumped him two days prior.

I blink at him, heart stumbling over itself like it’s tripping down a flight of stairs.

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