Page 41 of Worship
The look on his face makes me feel like he’s proud of me, like he wants to brag about me. I like it, too much.
“Well, thank you. I try.” I hope for humble, but I know I’m damn good.
“Sit, eat.”
He sets my food on the coffee table.
“Gladly. I’m always so hungry after I hand someone their ass,” I say honestly, and he laughs again, sitting next to me.
Luca leans in and wags his eyebrows. “Blood in the water makes sharks hungry.”
“Shut up.”
I start unpacking the deli sandwiches he’s brought us. Opening my food, I take a bite and moan my appreciation. “So delish,” I mumble around a mouthful.
“Agreed,” he says, looking me up and down unabashedly.
My eyes grow wide at his audacity.
“Luca.”
“What? Would you rather I pretend I don’t like what I see? Or do you just want to let me chase you in dark hallways and pretend that it didn’t happen?”
I knew this was coming, I’d just hoped to get in another bite of my food. I place my sandwich down and look at him, wiping my hands on the napkin in my lap.
“We can’t keep doing this. Last night was a huge complication. I know we said friends, but we both know that’s not happening here. I don’t want to be your dirty little secret.”
His gaze is so intense, as if he’s angry I would label us as something dirty, but then shifts into amusement.
“You aren’t a secret—dirty and little, yes, but not a secret.”
“Bullshit.”
I take a drink of my soda and pick my sandwich back up.
He shakes his head.
“Why do you do that? Push back against everything I say?”
“I don’t always push back. Only when you aren’t full of shit. Tell me something, does Shelby know you’re trying to date me?” I challenge.
He takes a deep breath in and grins, knowing he’s lost.
“No. I didn’t ask her permission. I kissed you because I wanted to. And I plan to do it again and as many times as you’ll let me.”
What the fuck?
“And your wife?”
I look at him expectantly, hoping the reason in my question will highlight the insanity of what he’s saying.
“Is still my wife,” he answers dismissively, grabbing his soda to take a drink.
I take it from his hand and place it back on the table.
“No, that’s not okay. You don’t ice me out…not me. You tell me how this situation is different, how I shouldn’t feel like I’m committing to being someone’s mistress.”
If he wants something with me, then there has to be a really damn good reason for me to act in a way I feel is wrong. I may have misstepped, but diving all the way in is completely different.
