Luca (Hunting Her) - Eden Summers Page 0,38

me to watch you go through this on your own. That you won’t talk to me.”

“Because I hate seeing you angry. Every time I mention him you change.”

“Of course I change. Of course I get fucking angry.” His eyes narrow. “Don’t you understand how much I want to go back in time and kill Luther the way he deserved to be killed? You have no idea how I wish I could’ve found you sooner. How I’d give anything to have known you beforehand so you never had to suffer in the first place.”

“Luca…”

“I’d do anything for you.” He holds my gaze, intense and unwavering. “Anything.”

The warmth he inspired earlier reignites, the flickering flame shedding light on the darkness within.

I swallow again, my mouth needing moisture.

My clothes become more restrictive. The sports bra tightens around my breasts.

I’m drawn to him. All the strength and protection.

I want to breathe it in, suck it deep. Fill my lungs, my heart, and my weary head.

“You’re too good to me,” I whisper. “Why?”

He huffs out a harsh laugh. “You’ve got a short memory. You’re still on the floor after I pushed you into a panic attack.”

I lean back against the cupboards and sigh. “It’s not the only thing you’ve pushed me into. The good outweighs the bad.”

“Like what?”

I shake my head, not wanting to delve into the details of why I had to change clothes. “It doesn’t matter.”

We fall quiet, nothing but our breathing to pepper the silence.

It’s soothing.

Just Luca and I.

No expectations. No pressure.

I could stay here for hours.

“I’m proud of you.” He places his hand over mine and gives a light squeeze. “We’ll try this again tomorrow. Without the choke hold.”

He makes a move to stand and I panic again.

“Don’t go.” I rush to grip his calloused fingers. “Stay with me a while.”

I want the contact. Despite the anxiety and the flashbacks, I want his touch.

I need it.

“Okay.” He settles back beside me, shoulder to shoulder, one leg stretched out, the other bent. “Are we talking or ignoring each other?”

It’s my turn to chuckle. “Does it matter?” I shoot him a glance, getting caught up in eyes that smolder.

Why does he have to be so attractive? He’s handsome and savage and beautifully lethal.

Those attributes scared me not so long ago. Attractive men were monsters. All men.

Now there’s Luca. Visually appealing and soul awakening.

My heart beats harder as my curiosity piques. Will more closeness bring added comfort? Does this delicious ache inside me have the potential to assist my recovery?

“Would you let me try something?” I swallow. “I mean, in an attempt to see if it helps my recovery?”

He frowns. “Of course.”

I nod against the surge of invigoration hollowing my stomach and rise onto my knees, turning to face him. I shuffle until my legs touch his thigh, his shoulders stiffening with the contact.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “You look scared.”

I am.

No. I’m nervous.

I want to touch him. Feel him.

But those moments have always been tainted for me.

Touch has rarely been kind.

Not until Luca.

“I just…” I reach for him, my palm reclaiming its favored position against his stubbled cheek. “I…” I shake away my explanation when he stiffens further. “Do you want me to stop?”

“What are you doing, exactly, shorty?” His voice is low. Roughened.

“I don’t know. Does that matter?”

“No.” He offers the word simply, but his eyes are cautious. “Do whatever you need.”

I have a feeling he’ll regret the offer, because what I want to do is tentatively place my lips on his and see if panic overwhelms me.

I lean forward, holding his gaze, barely blinking.

Every part of me thrums. I can’t hear through the static ringing in my ears. But I feel safe, protected, his strength luring me in.

I approach to within a few inches when his nostrils flare, the grind of his jaw rippling under my fingertips. He’s uncomfortable and still I can’t smother my curiosity.

I want to try this one thing for me. Not because I was pushed. Or frightened.

For me.

For healing.

“Penny.” My name is a warning. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” I steal the space between us, brushing my mouth over his, the connection jolting through every inch of me despite the exquisite softness of his lips.

I awaken with sensation. With tingles and yearning and light.

Sexuality washes over me. But it’s not degrading or demeaning like I predict. There’s no fear or disgust.

Everything is slow and sweet, his kiss a gentle dance as a growl emanates from his chest.

He frees me, helping me spread my wings to

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