Page 45 of A Game of Ruck
And there he is.
Luca Warden.
I swear he looks like something off a men’s underwear ad billboard.
And I almost can’t believe it, but he’s watching the door like he’s been waiting his whole damn life.
For me.
I take him in from head to toe in that moment, just appreciating how goddamn hot he really is.
Leaning against the opposite wall like sin incarnate in a tailored blazer and an open collar that shows the edge of his tattoo.
One ankle crossed over the other, arms folded across his broad chest, a lazy grin playing on his lips when he finally sees me.
Like he knows every fantasy I’ve ever had and isstrongly consideringmaking them all come true.
God help me.
Please let him be thinking about that.
“You okay?”he asks, gaze tracking my every movement.
I pause in front of him, my heels suddenly feeling too high, my stomach too full of butterflies.
“I don’t know,” I say, exhaling.
He straightens a little.“Did something happen?”
“No.”I shake my head.“I mean—yes.I mean,” I blink up at him.“What are you doing?”
He lifts a brow.“Standing here.Waiting for you.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head again, this time more emphatically.“I mean this.You.Us.That kiss.That speech.The way you keep touching me like it means something.What are you doing, Luca?Because I need to know if this is still part of the act.”
His expression sobers immediately.
The teasing drops away like a costume he no longer needs.
“I’m not acting,” he says simply.
My chest squeezes.
“You expect me to believe that?”I whisper.
He takes a step closer, then another, until I’m backed up against the marble wall, heat radiating from him like a furnace set toruin me.
“I dare you to,” he says, voice low and deadly serious.
My breath catches.
“I dare you to believe that I meant every word I said out there,” he continues.“I dare you to believe that I kissed you because I wanted to.Because I couldn’tnotkiss you.That I’d do it again in a heartbeat.That this thing between us?It’s not pretend for me.Not anymore.”
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
“I’m not playing, Annabeth,” he says, reaching up to cup my cheek.His thumb brushes just below my eye, soft as a prayer.“But if you want me to back off, say the word and I will.If you need this to stay fake, I’ll fake it like a fucking Oscar-winner.But if there’s even a small part of you that’s wondering what this could be?”
His lips hover a breath from mine.
