Page 78 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
“What?” I asked mid-chew.
“You’ve got ketchup all over your mouth.”
“Where?” I reached for a napkin, but before I could grab it, Luca was already leaning in.
Gently, he brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. Then, to my surprise, he brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it clean.
My breath caught.
The wind seemed to still. The honks and shouts from the city below faded into silence. The whole world narrowed until it was just the two of us…suspended in a moment that suddenly felt too big for words.
Luca swatted the empty chip bag aside and shifted closer.
I didn’t stop him.
I knew what he was about to do. I knew it the instant his eyes dropped to my lips and the steel gray of his gaze darkened—heated with the kind of hunger you don’t mistake. I could sense his wolf, too. Pressing forward like it wanted to claim me.
I didn’t stop him when he cupped my cheek gently. My body responded instantly—to the warmth of his hand, the feel of his strong fingers against my skin.
Anyone could walk in and see us. And yet, even with the risk of being caught—of the chaos it could unleash if anyone found us here together—I couldn’t help it. I still wanted him.
I didn’t stop him when he leaned his forehead against mine, his eyes searching mine for something. Permission?
It didn’t matter. I was the one who closed the space between us. I pressed my lips to his.
Everything about our kiss was desperate. Rough. Fierce. Familiar. Filled with the tension that has been building between us for weeks, with everything we hadn’t said, everything we’d buried, everything we still wanted.
Luca kissed me like a starving man—like he’d been craving this, needing this.
And I let him.
It was dizzying. Like downing a shot of tequila.
My thoughts blurred. My pulse skyrocketed. My head was gone. Ishoved that tic in the back of my mind that was telling me I shouldn’t be doing this.
I wanted more. I needed more. I needed him.
I inched closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he groaned against my mouth. His hands pulled me in like he couldn’t get enough, and when he sought my tongue, I opened for him—welcoming the familiar taste of him, the one I never could forget.
His hands dropped to the hem of my shirt, and just then his phone buzzed. Loud. Jarring. Like a wake-up call.
Reality hit me like a bucket of cold water.
My eyes flew open. And just like that, the weight of what I’d just done slammed into me. Oh God.
“Leila—”
I couldn’t look at him. “I—I’ve got to, um…go.”
I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding hard against my chest—a cruel, echoing reminder of what I’d just done. And without another glance at him, I ran.
Chapter Eighteen
Leila’s POV
I’d been dreadingMonday morning. Dreading this meeting with Elena. I’d been dreading it since yesterday—ever since I packed up and bolted out of Manhattan like I was being chased by a ghost. Like running would make me forget the way he kissed me. And the way I kissed him back.
Guilt assailed me.
