Page 168 of Flawed

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Luca

Chanel's skin warms.Her face flushes like any other time I've studied her while she watches other couples. She swallows hard then turns her head, inquiring, "You built this for me?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"As soon as I saw the space," I answer.

She pins her eyebrows together, stating, "But we weren't together. I would have never seen it."

My pulse quickens. I admit, "I've only had one goal besides taking down the Abruzzos. And that was to make things right between us and spend the rest of my days with you."

She gapes at me, softly breathing, a million emotions flitting over her face.

I cup her cheek and confess, "I hate the club. I only went there because of work. Then I found you again. It gave me excuses to show up, but the thought of you there makes me ill. I don't want you around dangerous men, stellina."

"I never did anything with them," she blurts out.

It's my turn to be shocked. Over the years, it's driven me nuts thinking about what she might be doing with another man there. I never saw her with anyone, yet I wasn't naive enough to think men weren't hitting on her left and right. I claim, "I wasn't judging you. I don't—"

"I never was with anyone! I let Pina and Massimo think I did things there so they'd not ask me questions about where I went. I didn't want anyone following me. Every night I was there, I looked for you," she declares, her eyes welling again.

I tighten my arm around her, confessing, "And I was always looking for you."

Moments pass. She finally breaks our gaze and turns back to the window, uttering, "You thought I would miss watching?"

I drop my hand to her thigh, dragging my fingers in long strokes over the side of it. She inhales sharply and leans against me. I kiss the back of her neck then answer, "I've studied you and what you enjoy watching."

She reveals, "Sometimes I wondered if something was wrong with me... why I enjoyed watching when I knew I couldn't have what those behind the glass had. Or why I kept torturing myself going back when I knew I could only look at you but never touch you."

I inch my hand under her skirt, sliding it between her thighs. She shifts her ass against my hard-on, and I remind myself I can't have her here—not tonight. This is just a warm-up. She needs to be in my bed, where she belongs. I assert, "There's nothing wrong with what you like. In fact, I enjoy watching you watch."

She tilts her head, biting her lip. The green in her eyes swirls with a growing need I've studied for hours over the years from afar.

My lips twitch. I order, "Watch the show."

She obeys.

I slide my hand over her breast, slowly stroking the material over her nipple. It hardens under my touch. I move my other hand another inch, and my thumb grazes her already damp panties.

Her body submits further, fully relaxing against my frame. She shudders, her breath hitching in a tiny pattern.

The woman's dress falls to the floor. She's wearing nothing underneath, and the man steps back, taking several moments to appreciate her bare body. A deep flush grows on her cheeks under his stare.

The longer he assesses her, the more it drives her insane. Her hands and lips start to tremble. Her chest rises and falls faster.

He curls his finger, and she closes the distance between them, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it over his shoulders. Then she moves to his pants, releasing them.

I press another button, and the sound of his belt hitting the floor fills the air.

Chanel reaches for my thigh, digging her nails into my quad. She presses her other hand to the glass.

The man takes control, kissing the woman while moving her toward the window.

"Can they see us?" Chanel frets.

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