Page 10 of Mine Again
“You’re not the only one,” I whisper, my breath hitching. “Every minute without you touching me, I’m suffocating.”
His hands slip beneath my top, and I arch into his touch like I’m starved for it. Because I am.
His fingers are warm and reverent and just rough enough to make me shiver.
“Can’t have that. Let’s fix that immediately. You need your oxygen.”
Chapter Three
Isabella
Luca pulls back to meet my eyes, his breath shallow, his chest rising like he’s holding back something too big to name. Slowly, he lifts me in his arms and carries me to the bed.
The soft rustle of rose petals greets us as he lowers me onto the covers. Air slips from my lungs as I take in what surrounds us.
Scattered between the blooms are tiny paper butterflies, trembling like they might lift off and take flight. Delicate. Beautiful. Like magic made real.
“You did this?” I whisper, my voice barely there.
He nods, gaze locked on mine. “I wanted to give you something beautiful. Because you are, inside and out.”
My heart twists. I reach up and touch his face, my thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. “You already have. By looking at me like you do.”
His mouth finds mine again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he’s not just kissing me, he’s taking his time to memorize it.
His hands move with quiet intent, slipping beneath my clothes and peeling them away like he’s unwrapping something special. Until I’m bare. Open. Held in the center of a bed made of blooms and breathlesswonder.
He draws back to look at me, and the way he sees me makes my body ache. My skin tingles, heat blooming everywhere his eyes touch.
“You’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” he says.
And when he lowers his lips to my collarbone and begins to worship me, I can tell he means it.
He takes his time, every caress filled with reverence. His lips skim the curve of my shoulder. His hands explore me like he’s mapping me again, finding something new each time.
Each kiss is deliberate. Grounded. As if he’s tasting me for the first and last time. Like I’m the answer to a prayer he never dared to speak aloud.
I arch beneath him, my fingers threading into his hair, breath caught between a gasp and a moan as his mouth trails lower. When he kisses the underside of my breast, I tremble. When he goes lower still, my mind blanks entirely.
Every touch feels sacred. Offered to the gods. But I’m the one receiving the devotion.
“Luca,” I breathe, coming undone. “Please.”
He lifts his head, eyes dark with hunger but soft with something deeper. Love that doesn’t only burn. It claims.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs and lowers himself again, dragging fire across my skin until I can barely hold still.
His hands part my thighs with care. The way his eyes linger on me makes me feel powerful. Wanted.Seen.
“Look at you,” he says, his voice thick. “So perfect like this. All mine.”
The first stroke of his tongue tears a sound from me I didn’t know I could make. One hand fists in the petals, the other gripping his hair as he tastes me.
He moans against me like I’m the most addictive thing he’s ever known. And maybe I am.
But in this moment,he’severything. The world begins and ends where his mouth touches me.
He’s patient but relentless, building me higher and higher until my body shakes with the need to let go. He holds me there, wanting me to feel every second of it. Until I break. Until I’m nothing but sensation and the shape of his name on my lips.
