Page 5 of Perfectly Leashed
“It’s a date,” Luca echoed, his smile gentle. “Seven good for you?”
“Yes.” Dropping his gaze, Darcy bit down hard on his bottom lip. Okay. Date. That was officially a thing now. He glanced at Luca, whose calm confidence wrapped around him like a safety net he craved more of.
Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t suck after all.
Maybe it would change everything.
* * * *
Darcy scratched Meatball behind the ear one last time, crouching low as he returned the dog safely behind the gate. “Don’t forget, buddy,” he whispered, checking around dramatically. Then he leaned closer. “We have a date tomorrow with Luca.”
Meatball’s tail thumped against the concrete.
He hurried home, feeling lighter, the short walk back to his apartment almost effortless. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for dog walking, but tomorrow, Luca might make it worth every tangled leash and bruise to his ego.
Inside his cramped apartment, he dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter and stripped off his sweat-stained shirt. He toed off his shoes, shoving them out of the way. The small bathroom mirror showed a flushed face, hair sticking up at odd angles, freckles dark against pink cheeks. Not exactly the polished image he’d hoped for, but he’d seen worse.
Steam filled the bathroom seconds after he twisted on the shower. Stepping beneath the spray, Darcy tilted his head back, letting the hot water ease knotted shoulders. As tension melted down his spine, another kind of tension replaced it—deeper, more insistent.
Eyes closed, he recalled the way Luca’s gaze lingered and that amber flicker Darcy might’ve imagined. Luca’s hand brushing his, warm breath ghosting his ear, sending a shiver straight down Darcy’s spine. He felt the first stirring in his cock, slow heat building into insistent need.
He slid a palm down his stomach, water slicking the path, fingers wrapping around his thickening shaft. Darcy sucked in a sharp breath, thumb teasing over his slit, precum mixing with shower spray. Heat flooded through his veins as he tightened his grip, slow, deliberate strokes pulling another shaky exhale from his chest.
He pictured Luca clearly now—lean muscles beneath a grease-stained T-shirt, eyes intense and darkened, that husky voice whispering close to Darcy’s ear. Luca’s strong hands sliding confidently down Darcy’s ribs, gripping tight, guiding his hips closer.
His breathing grew ragged, strokes faster, his cock hard and aching in his fist. Water drummed against his shoulders, steam fogging the glass doors. Darcy braced one hand against the cool tile, hips jerking forward into his own tight grip, desperate now, pulse thundering through him.
“Fuck,” he whispered roughly, head falling forward. Heat pulsed, building sharper, hotter, Luca’s image vivid, his gaze locking with Darcy’s, amber sparks glowing unmistakably. Luca’s mouth, rough and hungry against his own, tongue sliding between parted lips. Darcy shuddered, hips bucking faster, his cock throbbing, pleasure spiraling unbearably tight inside him.
“Luca,” he groaned aloud, the name raw on his tongue. His thighs shook, and the orgasm slammed into him, cock pulsing, cum spilling hot and thick against the tile. He rode out the sensation, breathless, chest heaving, forehead pressed to wet ceramic.
The water rinsed him clean, but embarrassment heated his cheeks. “You are such a hot mess,” he muttered, forcing his breathing until it was steady. It wasn’t like him to get so worked up over a guy he’d just met.
After a quick scrub, Darcy stepped from the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, fingers shaking slightly as he rubbed steam from the mirror. His reflection stared back, flushed, thoroughly fucked-out, and annoyingly hopeful.
“Stop lingering. You have to get to work.” With the reminder, he pulled on fresh clothes—dark jeans and a worn work T-shirt from the pet shop—ignoring the lingering ache of anticipation deep in his gut.
One brief encounter with Luca had him completely off-balance.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Two
Darcy stumbled into the parking lot of Luca’s shop, sneakers scraping pavement as four over-excited dogs practically dragged him along. Meatball had been in turbo mode since sunrise, acting like a pit-bull-shaped tow truck rather than a pet. Darcy half expected to leave skid marks in his wake.
“Easy, buddy. Let’s pretend I have some dignity left.”
At least the sun wasn’t blinding yet. Early-morning warmth promised a hot day, but the breeze still smelled fresh, carrying a faint metallic tang from the open garage doors. Darcy squinted at the building, recognizing Luca’s shape easily now—lean, relaxed, waiting just outside, two steaming cups in hand.
“Morning,” Luca said, his voice rich, and already awake in a way Darcy envied. His dark T-shirt hugged broad shoulders, his jeans fitting casually snug around muscular thighs. He looked...delicious.
Darcy glanced down at himself, wondering if his wrinkled shirt and tangled hair screamed incompetent hot mess. Probably.
“Morning. Sorry. They decided it was a race to get here.”
Luca’s mouth tugged at the corner. “Maybe they were excited.”
“For the coffee, clearly.” He accepted the offered cup gratefully, inhaling rich, dark roast. He sipped, savoring heat and caffeine, eyes drifting closed on a relieved sigh. When he looked up, Luca watched him with a half-smile that left Darcy’s heart stumbling stupidly inside his chest.
