First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (43 page)

What if he’s good at sex, but I’m the terrible one? I don’t know any fancy moves.

“You’re thinking,” he says. “You disappeared up into your head.”

“Luca, I don’t have any fancy moves.”

He moves and places his hand between my legs, cupping his fingers under me. His warm palm presses down on top of my panties, and he begins to lightly massage me.

His voice low and growling, he says, “Fancy is overrated. The best way is simple. You see something you like, you rub it, kiss it, lick it.”

I close my eyes and relax into his touch. He keeps moving his palm, the movement almost circular. Soon, I’m rocking my hips and pressing against him.

When I’m ready, I jump back off his lap, whip off the underwear, and return to straddling him.

“You do that like a gymnast,” he says, his voice low and thick. “Like I’m your pommel horse.”

“You
are
my pommel horse.”

“I’ll be your anything.”

He puts his hand right back, this time bare skin on skin. The pleasure is almost unbearable.

His fingers slide, moving deeper, until they’re slipping in and out of me. I lean forward against him. With his other hand, he lifts up my hair so he can kiss my neck.

His mouth on my neck and his fingers inside me is nearly heaven, but I want more.

For the second time, I reach for the button of his jeans. This time, my hands are powerful and sure. I open the button and wrestle down the zipper.

“Hang on.”

He pulls his hand away from between my legs and holds onto the back of my hips. His strong thighs flex underneath me, and he lifts me up. After a little awkwardness, he gets a square packet pulled from his pocket, and then pushes his jeans down and off, along with his boxer shorts.

I’m shy about looking down, now that we’re naked.

We return to sitting. We’re still on the couch, and haven’t folded out the bed. It doesn’t matter. This desire can’t wait for pulling off cushions and folding out beds.

I reach between us cautiously and touch him. He’s long and hard. There’s so much, and it gets harder with each squeeze and caress.

He pushes my hand away, and rolls on the condom. I glance down, amazed it all fits in there.

When I look up again, he’s gazing into my eyes. His expression seems to say something daring.
If you’re impressed now, wait ’til you see what I can do with it.

I give him a look of my own.
Bring it on.

We start kissing again, and I slide my chest up the length of his chest, standing up on my knees. I reach behind his shoulders and grab onto the back of the couch.

This is happening.

I move my hips forward. The tip is slippery from the lube on the condom, and I giggle as he slips around at first. With a minor adjustment, he’s in place. Still hanging onto the back of the sofa with both hands, I breathe slowly as I ease myself down.

He rocks his hips, pulsing, but not pushing.

Fireworks start to go off inside me.

I’m not even all the way down, and it’s incredible.

He kisses my neck slowly and thoroughly.

Sliding down all the way feels good. Do I remember how to do this?

After a few wiggles, my body starts to move without any heavy thinking involved.

His big hands squeeze me around the hips. His thumbs wrap around the front, across my hip bones, and his fingers reach down to the middle of my butt cheeks.

I’ve never been gripped like this. I look down in amazement at his arms. His biceps ripple and bulge.

He nods his head forward, breathing heavily, and presses his face into my chest.

I close my eyes and move in all the ways that feel good. I let go of the couch and wrap my arms around his neck. He’s filling me completely, utterly.

The waves rise, and soon my climax approaches, along with the realization of how much I’ve missed this.

“I’m coming,” I whisper in his ear.

He groans and leans back, looking up at my eyes.

I lean forward and kiss him, burying his face in my hair.

“Don’t look,” I moan into his mouth.

“Okay,” he growls, his chest vibrating with his pleasure.

I tilt my hips and slide along him, each pulse sending my pleasure deeper. His thighs tense under me, and he’s harder and thicker.

My breath catches, my muscles tense, and I drive myself down on him. I climax, and lose myself to it.

After, my body goes limp. I’m still moving, though, powered by Luca’s arms.

He shakes and gasps, coming right after me.

The deep, rumbling sound in his chest is more thrilling than the wildest summer thunderstorm.

Eventually, his hands loosen their grip on my hips, and his palms slide back down the tops of my thighs. This motion reminds me of the equipment at a carnival, powering down at the end of a ride.

We’re still for a moment, our breathing returning to normal.

“Bleh,” he says.

“What?” I pull back to look in his eyes.

“Bleh,” he repeats, pulling wavy strands of my hair out of his mouth. “I’m eating your hair.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such a jerk.”

He grins. “I know.”

Chapter 14

Rory comes over at noon Sunday for our usual routine.

She sends me a message from the front of the main house, and I tell her to come around back because I’m still sorting my laundry.

She walks in the door cautiously. She’s got her big takeout cup full of coffee, and a box of donuts. Her eyes narrowed, she looks around the open space. Scowling, she walks over and checks the bathroom.

“I swear he’s not here,” I tell her.

“I can smell him.”

She opens the coat closet.

“He’s not in the closet,” I say. “Or in the main house. I promised I wouldn’t spring him on you before you’re ready, and I won’t.”

“Good.” She pushes back her dark, curly hair and ties it up with an elastic. Her golden brown eyes are still darting around the cottage.

I run around, retrieving dirty laundry from the various places I hid it before Luca came over.

“We did play Scrabble last night,” I say.

Her body tenses, but she doesn’t run. “And?”

“His board strategy is more aggressive than I’m used to, but I liked it.”

She looks down at her feet, her cheeks turning red. “I’m happy for you,” she mumbles.

I finish grabbing my laundry, and we walk over to the main house.

My sister Megan is home, doing some baking. The flower shop is closed Sundays, so this is the one day we both have off together.

Rory and I say hello on our way through the kitchen to the laundry room.

“Mom phoned from Italy,” Megan says to me. “The gossip about you and Luca has gone global.”

“Oh, crap.”

Megan grins as she punches down bread dough. “You know that game where people whisper things, and the story changes with each person it goes through? Anyway, Mom thinks you’re dating the leader of a crime family.”

“How did she get that?”

“Someone made the leap from motorbike repair to biker gang, I guess. She was threatening to come home.”

“I hope you talked her down. I will not be held responsible for cutting short her
Eat Pray Love
year abroad. No way.”

Megan snorts. “Sounds like she skipped the Eat and Pray and moved right on to the Love. She’s sharing her apartment with someone. A guy. She told me when they share the bed, it’s platonic and they sleep foot to head. I think what she really means is sixty-nine.”

Beside me, Rory lets out a strangled cry, and bolts away to the laundry room.

Megan stares after my best friend. “Is
that
still happening?”

“Be nice,” I say. “She’s trying.”

“Speaking of sixty-nine, how was your date last night? I noticed you pulled the blinds shut during dinner. That roast looked good. I was going to come over later for some leftovers, but I noticed the whole garage was rocking on its foundations.”

I smirk at my sister. “The cottage’s seismic upgrades were really getting a workout last night.”

“You’ve got a pretty big smile on your face. I’d say you were getting a good workout, too. Did he
Roadhouse
you against the wall? Or did he
Dirty Dancing
you up in the air, over his head?”

“I got out some pottery clay I bought special for the occasion, and he
Ghosted
me through a dozen repeats of
Unchained Melody
.”

“He’s a real man,” she says. “Does he have a brother?”

“Hmm. Come to think of it, I don’t know. He didn’t talk much about his family.”

I pull out my phone and start composing a text message. Last night, he didn’t stick around for long after we put our clothes back on. He helped me wash up from dinner, and mentioned a few times that he had to get up early to meet a new subcontractor at the garage.

We haven’t talked yet today, and I’ve been waiting for an excuse to message him.

I send a text:
You remember my sister Megan, right? Brown hair, green eyes, works at your favorite flower shop. She just asked me if you happen to have a brother.

“And send,” I say, pressing the green button.

“You sound just like Mom when you talk to your phone like that.”

I stare down at my phone. Seconds pass. I’m used to messaging with Rory, who replies back so fast, I wonder if she’s psychically answering me before I ask.

Megan notices me staring at my phone. “Give him some time. I’m sure he’ll still have a brother in ten minutes.”

“Good point.”

Megan goes back to her baking, and I go off to do my laundry with Rory.

Our routine hasn’t changed in years. In between folding loads from the dryer, we laze around in the rec room, watching movies and eating donuts.

Rory leaves after dinner, and I check my phone for the thousandth time.

There’s still no response from Luca.

I carry my folded laundry back out to the cottage and put everything away.

I check my phone again. No response.

The flowers from last night are sitting on the table, next to the note.

I look at the pretty charm bracelet on my wrist. It’s such a thoughtful, personal gift. He really made me feel special.

Special.

I think back to the first time I met Luca, when I gave him dating advice. I told him he needed to make a girl feel special and unique.

He certainly accomplished that last night. But today he hasn’t even called.

I frown at the darkened screen on my phone.

Do I need to teach him that he has to call a girl the day after he sleeps with her?

Or is he already done with me?

I really wish he’d call.

Chapter 15

Monday morning, I pick out the day’s outfit with a hopeful heart.

Luca hasn’t returned my text message from yesterday, but I have a feeling he’ll come see me at the flower store today.

I want to wear something really simple, so that my new charm bracelet is the star.

I tie my curly brown hair up in a high ponytail, and get dressed in dark jeans, cobalt blue flats, and a plain white V-neck shirt.

When I get outside, the late spring sky is grey and threatening rain, so I drive my car instead of walking.

I drive past the Baker Brothers garage slowly, looking for any sign of Luca. The windows are still covered in paper, so I can’t see anything.

The garage’s sign looks great, thanks to the recent restoration. Luca had a guy who specializes in hand-painting signs come in and spruce up the letters. He also added a line about motorbikes, exactly as I suggested. I really hope it was good advice I gave him.

I open the flower store and keep myself busy, my heart skipping a beat every time someone comes in the door.

It’s nearly lunch time when a woman I don’t recognize comes in.

She pretends to be looking at the ferns and orchids, but I can feel her eyes on me. I ask her if I can help her, and she quickly scuttles back out again.

I pull out my phone and check it again. No message from Luca.

I send him a new text message:
Have you been sending spies over here to the flower shop?

He responds immediately:
No. Why?

I frown at the phone. I should be glad he replied, but this isn’t the sort of sweet, romantic message I was hoping for.

Me:
Some blonde chick was just in here staring at me.

I wait five minutes for a response and don’t get one.

The door chimes again. I look up, expecting to see Luca, coming to surprise me with something thoughtful.

Instead, I get the blonde woman.

This time she walks right up to me and points the screen of her phone at my face.

“Did you make this?” she asks.

There’s a photo of flowers on the screen. I recognize the raffia tie from our regular supply. More importantly, I recognize the extravagant arrangement. It’s the one Luca dropped a bundle on the first time we met.

I look up into the blonde’s ice blue eyes. She’s older than me, maybe close to forty, but really pretty, like a Barbie doll.

I answer carefully. “If it came with one of our cards, then it was either me or my coworker.”

“I saw Luca in here two weeks ago, talking to the other girl. It was busy, and he was helping her sell flowers.”

I nod slowly, pretending to be thinking. On the Wednesday before last, Luca was here, helping my sister sell out the store so I had Thursday off. That was our first date.

I look down at the woman’s fingernails. They’re manicured, with those thick, gel nails. Judging by the energy coming off her, I quickly assess that she is Luca’s ex, and if she finds out he’s dating me, she’ll bury those nails in my face like ten daggers of payback.

“I’m sorry, who?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

She spits out his name like it’s toxic. “Luca Lowell.” She studies my face. “The other girl’s your sister, isn’t she?”

“The one who works here? Yes.” I snap my fingers. “Oh, you mean Luca. The guy who bought the garage. He’s been getting to know some of the people who work up and down the street. Um… for business networking, I guess.”

“You warn your sister,” she hisses.

I take a step back, out of face-stabbing range. The counter is between us, but it’s not enough.