Page 117 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
When I looked back up, mischief flickered in his eyes, but behind it, something dangerous.
He smirked. “Thought so.”
He took the glass from my hand and set it aside. And then his mouth crashed into mine.
The kiss was hungry. Wild. It devoured every inch of restraint I had left, tore through the last remnants of my logic, and left me spiraling. There was nothing delicate about it. Nothing safe. Only need—pure, blistering need—and the taste of him undoing every thread I’d held myself together with all week.
Luca lifted me effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, spreading my thighs wider with his knee until the hard line of his erection pressed against my core. One hand gripped the back of my thigh, hitching it higher, the other anchoring my hip as he ground into me.
I moved against him shamelessly, desperate for friction. A low growl rumbled from his chest. But I didn’t stop.
His fingers fisted in my hair, yanking me still as his mouth claimed my throat in rough, open-mouthed kisses. He shoved my coat aside, lips trailing lower until they found my chest. Then he latched onto one nipple through the thin fabric of my dress, and I moaned—soft at first, but louder as he bit down.
He pulled me closer to the edge of the counter, spreading my legs further until his hand slipped between them. My breath hitched when his fingers brushed my clit through my soaked panties.
“Is this you having it together, Leila?” he growled, pushing the damp fabric aside. His fingers stroked my clit with infuriating slowness.
I trembled beneath his touch, my body already quaking with theneed to feel him inside of me. “Luca…Ollie could walk in,” I whispered through a moan.
“Then you better stay quiet.”
I was throbbing now, so turned on I couldn’t see straight. It had been far too long since Luca touched me like this. Too long since anyone had. I’d forgotten how utterly consuming it felt.
Luca lowered his head to my breast just as he slid a finger into my soaked folds.
A strangled scream climbed my throat, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle it, clutching his hair with my other hand so tightly it must’ve hurt. But he didn’t flinch.
“You’re so fucking tight, Leila,” he growled, lifting his head to watch me. His eyes were molten, fixed on my face as he pumped his fingers in and out. When he added a second finger, I felt my eyes roll back, my head falling loosely until he caught it with his other hand.
“I want to watch you come for me,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
He was knuckles deep inside of me now, the wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me filled the air, raw and desperate, driving my arousal.
I rocked against him shamelessly, crying out into my palm, my thighs quaking as I chased the release that had been buried for five years.
Luca smirked, his eyes dark with hunger. “That’s my girl.”
The orgasm built fast, a surge crashing through me, ready to break. I was right there—right on the edge—when…
My hand knocked over a glass on the counter. It shattered against the floor.
My eyes flew open. The sharp sound pierced the haze and brought me back to reality with brutal clarity.
Ollie. He was upstairs.
And even if the sound hadn’t woken him, something else slammed into me harder: the truth.
I looked at Luca, chest rising and falling, breathless, but not from pleasure anymore. Guilt clawed at my throat, raw and sudden.
Forty-eight hours. That’s all that stood between Luca and his wedding.
My eyes burned. I blinked, once, twice, trying to keep the tears that threatened to pool from my eyes. His expression shifted, softened—the cocky smirk gone, replaced with something almost tender. Wary. Maybe even regretful.
He slowly pulled his fingers out of me, and I slid off the counter, adjusting my coat and smoothing my dress with shaky hands.
“Leila—”
“Please,” I cut in, voice trembling. “Just stop.”
