Page 84 of Can't Always Get What You Want

Sweeter.

My turn.

My fingers find the hem of his shirt next. I pull, and he lets me, breaking the kiss only long enough for it to pass over his head. I toss it somewhere behind us, not caring where it lands.

I take in his tattoos—he has three. One on his chest, two on his upper bicep.

A scar on his rib cage.

Freckles.

And then it’s skin to skin.

Heat to heat.

My legs tighten around his hips, pulling him closer, anchoring us in this moment.

He kisses my shoulder. My neck. The space just beneath my ear that makes my breath hitch. His hands cradle my waist like he’s memorizing every inch, like this—this—is what he’s been waiting for.

“So fucking sexy…”

“You are too.”

He licks between the valley of my breasts, hands sliding around to the small of my back. My breath catches again when his fingers find the clasp of my bra, working with the kind of practiced ease that makes my brain short-circuit.

Then the fabric loosens, slides down my arms, and is gone—tossed aside like the rest of our hesitation.

His gaze flicks up, eyes dark, lips parted. And when he finally speaks, his voice is barely a whisper.

“Jesus, Nova…” he breaths. “Your tits are amazing.”

I would blush, but I already know my tits are amazing.

Luca doesn’t rush.He just looks at me. Then his mouth is on my skin again, lips and tongue and hands worshiping every inch like I’m a map he’s determined to memorize.

My nipples pucker.

I curl my fingers into his hair as he kisses his way down—slow, teasing, maddening. When I gasp, I feel him smile against my skin, pleased with himself.

“You keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what Mavis does.”

That earns a laugh.A low, rumbling one that vibrates against my chest and makes my toes curland my vagina clench.

“Mavis,” he says, tracing a line along my rib cage with his mouth, “is getting all the closure she deserves tonight.”

I let out a shaky breath, legs tightening around his waist. “She’s waited long enough.”

His hands glide down to my hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of my leggings. He pauses there, glancing up at me, making sure I’m still in this—still saying yes.

I nod. No hesitation this time.

He peels them down slowly, like every inch of skin he reveals is something sacred. Like he’s unwrapping a gift he plans to take his time with. Once my jeans are gone, he stands back so he can look at me.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers.

My chest swells.

My mouth goes tight.

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