heavily. And I stroked his hair, the sweat on the back of his neck. Listened to the sound of his breath start to slow.
“I’m kidnapping you tomorrow,” I said, still panting. “You’re calling in sick from work.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not even going to fight it, are you?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
I stroked his temple. “When was the last time you ever fake called in sick?”
“I’ve never even considered it. And I’m going to guess that Luna da Rosa doesn’t take days off either.”
“I never get sick,” I explained.
“Bullshit.” He chuckled.
“It’s true.” I laughed. “You don’t spend your entire life mainlining kale smoothies and experimenting with vitamin C supplements without gaining the immune system of, well, me, I guess.” Another stroke, this time through his beard. “Not even when I was a waitress in high school and college, I never played hooky. Never skipped a day of class in school.”
“Why now?” he asked. We both sounded dreamy, floaty; voices rough from our orgasms.
“Because you inspire me. And I’ve got decisions to process.”
“Okay then.”
“You don’t want any more details?”
“Doesn’t that ruin the kidnapping?”
I giggled and he kissed my fingers. “I want to ride your bike, so can you pick me up?”
“And I’m kidnapping you.”
“Semantics, Beck. And I want to do what we just did. Like a hundred more times.”
“That can be arranged, sweetheart.”
My toes curled against the floor.
Uh-oh.
43
Beck
Luna’s text the next morning gave me the time to pick her up on the bike and nothing else.
I’ll pack all of the essentials, the text said. What followed was a bunch of winking faces and videos of fireworks.
I guessed she liked what we’d done yesterday in my office.
I know I fucking liked it. I loved having Luna’s soft mouth wrapped around my cock while I ate her out. When I came, I felt a brick tumbling from my walls.
She was breaking me. But not in a bad way.
I’d stared at her texts for a while last night, knowing that if I sent Okay back to her, she’d tease me about it tomorrow. Instead I sent, I am prepared to be very sick tomorrow. But I know that after our date—
I deleted “date.” Retyped it. Thought about it. Kept it in.
Luna da Rosa was also turning me back into an awkward teenager again, apparently.
But I know that after our date I will feel incredible. You make me feel incredible.
I hit send. Wondered if that was weird, but it was the truth.
Her reply came instantly.
You make me feel incredible too, Beck.
By the time I roared up to her gigantic mansion on my motorcycle, I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face even if I’d wanted to. And when Luna walked barefoot through the grass towards me, I understood just how gone I was for this girl.
I wasn’t a religious man. But I sent something like a prayer to the sky—that my parents would leave us be. That the MC would fade into the background. That Wild Heart would be fine and Luna could be mine.
Please.
Before she could even open her mouth, I had her by the waist, pulling her in for a long, sweet kiss.
“Good morning,” I said. “I’m very sick today. How about you?”
She gave a cute little cough. “It’s the flu, I know it.”
I smoothed tendrils of hair from her face. She wasn’t wearing makeup, so I could see the freckles across her nose.
“Do you want to come see inside my house? And I’m only asking because my best friends are on the back patio and they’re dying to meet you.”
“I look okay?” I asked.
“You look hot,” she said. “Come on. Brutus is in the back too. You’ll love him. He’s our free-range Saint Bernard.”
“Brutus?”
She held my hand as we walked beneath the palm trees that lined her driveway. “He’s a rescue pup, but he hates being confined. That’s why we let him roam about the enclave.”
“Huh,” I said. We walked through her courtyard, which had a fountain and huge, flowering plants and wind-chimes hanging from the tree branches. It was very… Luna.
“Come on in,” she said, looking shy. “This is my home.”
I stepped into a house filled with color and light and green things. Every room was open, filled with rugs and throw pillows, candles and plants. The ceiling had lanterns and string lights. Large windows opened up onto a turquoise pool. It was massive, expensive-looking. There were photos everywhere—of Luna and her family, her travels, her friends, awards from her work and magazine covers she was on.
Very, very Luna.
“Is that Big Dick Beck?”
Luna’s eyes