Page 105 of Backhanded Compliments

“I come bearing gifts.” Juliette holds up the takeout bag.

“As requested,” Luca says with a roll of her eyes, and Juliette kisses her quiet, thoroughly addicted to the way Luca sinks into her.

Luca swipes the bags from Juliette’s hands and heads into the kitchenette. They fall into an easy rhythm of unpacking the food.Still, Juliette feels like she has been without Luca for too long and she encircles her fingers around Luca’s wrist and tugs gently. Luca moves willingly into Juliette’s space, pressing their hips together and Juliette’s back into the counter. Her hands land on either side of Juliette’s waist.

All Juliette does is gaze at Luca. She reaches up and traces Luca’s cheekbone, the soft point of her nose, the dimple that’s popped out with her smile, her always animated brows, her temples, and into her silky hair, loose and dry.

“What are you doing?” Luca asks.

Juliette looks back into her eyes and smiles. “Memorizing the shape of you,” she says.

Luca blinks and she turns her head slightly, away from the heat of Juliette’s gaze. Her cheeks tint pink, and Juliette cups her palm over her cheek to feel the heat. She runs her fingers through Luca’s hair, pressing her palm flat between her shoulder blades to draw them into a single long line, the space between them nonexistent, even though it makes the counter dig uncomfortably into her back.

Luca tips her forehead against Juliette’s and closes her eyes. She draws a shaky breath, and Juliette recognizes the insecurity trying to lay claim to Luca’s thoughts. So Juliette lifts her chin and kisses Luca. It is as easy as breathing, and it only takes a second for Luca to relax, all hesitation flowing from her as she melts into Juliette.

It’s slow and syrupy, an exchange of tender sweetness and languid moves. Luca’s hands skim across Juliette’s body, ushering blooms of heat across her skin. She arches into Luca, moaning softly.

Luca dips her head and buries her face in Juliette’s neck, lips pressed to her throat. “You’re going to be the death of me,” Luca whispers.

Juliette tugs on Luca’s hair so she can see her face. She loves how unguarded Luca looks, her lips kiss-swollen and red, her cheeks blotchy with heat, and her pupils blown black. “Maybe.”

Luca’s fingers slide underneath Juliette’s sweatshirt. She leans back to look down at Juliette. Her hands smooth up Juliette’s stomach, spanning across to cradle her ribs and rest there, her thumb sweeping temptingly beneath her breasts.

Juliette shivers. The heat of Luca’s palms combined with the rough scratch of the calluses from years of tennis create the perfect combination of sensation. Then, before Juliette can register what she’s about to do, Luca claws her fingers and rakes them down her sides.

Juliette crumples into Luca, knees weak, as laughter is punched out of her against her will. She grabs onto Luca’s elbows and presses her forehead against her collarbones as Luca laughs at her. “Now you’re going to kill me,” she says, breathlessly.

“I like hearing you laugh,” Luca says, but mercifully lets go of Juliette’s ribs, giving her the chance to breathe properly. “Come on, I’m starving,” Luca says, once Juliette is able to stand upright again.

They gather the boxes and plastic forks, already arguing over which movie to watch until they settle on a dorky romantic comedy that they lean into making fun of while they polish off the food and relax into the squishy couch cushions.

Juliette hauls Luca’s legs into her lap and, in between quips about how overbearing the parents are about the bakery they own, she massages Luca’s calves.

Luca gasps, and her head tilts back. Juliette resists the urge to lean over and nip at Luca’s exposed throat. “Achy?” she asks, digging her thumbs into Luca’s ankle.

Luca nods as her eyes roll back with pleasure and her whole body falls slack. Juliette isn’t even paying attention to the movie anymore, instead focusing on unwinding the tension from Luca’s body.

“How did you learn to do that?” Luca gasps out.

“My father would do it for us whenever we had a particularly rough day. Although, I almost always kicked him in the face by accident.”

Luca’s toes curl as Juliette prods at a knot in the sole of her foot. “Wow, that feels so good,” she moans.

Juliette laughs. “You seem to like this better than when I eat you out.”

Luca blushes. “No,” she squeaks. “I can like both equally well.”

Juliette laughs but continues the deep massage. The credits arerolling by the time Juliette is satisfied that every knot is worked out of Luca’s muscle fibers. It looks like she’s about to pass out, so blissfully relaxed.

“I still have to go to New York tomorrow,” Juliette blurts out.

Luca’s eyes flutter open, and she looks at Juliette. For a moment, the only sound is the gentle tap of slowing rain on the windows. The curtains are open, but there is little light in the tiny town of Mason, Ohio. A faint flicker from a nearby streetlamp baths them in amber, little speckles of shadow cast by rain droplets.

“Of course,” Luca says softly. She struggles to hide her disappointment. Juliette can see it.

Juliette draws shapes across Luca’s skin, warmth building beneath her fingertips. “When are you coming?”

Luca sighs, her toes flexing against Juliette’s thigh. “I don’t know. I’ll need to talk to Vladimir, and I think I’ve messed it up with him.”

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