Page 18 of Flawed

My lips twitch. I shove my shirt off and respond, "I'm taking a shower. And this is the last time I'm defending myself. This was an innocent kiss on the cheek. It's nothing more. Stop making me out to be someone I'm not. It's not fair."

Her eyes scan my torso then my lower body, before returning to my pecs.

Arrogantly, I demand, "Eyes up here, stellina."

Her cheeks turn fire-engine red. Her green globes blaze in the darkness, and my cock twitches. I've seen too many beautiful women in my lifetime to count. Yet everything about Chanel makes them appear dull.

I step forward and lean down so my face is over hers. Her hot breath merges with mine. She holds her breath, and I declare, "I'm going to shower. Close your eyes and try to sleep, or I'm going to have a hard time remembering you're sick and that I need to be a gentleman."

"A gentleman?" she whispers.

I lightly kiss her forehead, cheeks, and nose, then hover over her lips. "I'm a man, Chanel. One who remembers every breath..." I kiss her neck. "Every sound..." I drag my finger over her collarbone. "Every part of your body that molded itself to mine."

She takes a ragged breath.

I freeze, arching my eyebrows at her. "Did you think I forgot about our night?"

She stays quiet.

"Do you think I haven't spent hours obsessing over having you again?"

Her lips tremble.

I slide my knuckles down her neck and stop above her cleavage. I lean to her ear, lick her lobe, and she shudders. I murmur, "All I've thought about since our night together is you. So try to sleep, my little one. If I return and you look at me with those green eyes of yours, I'm not going to stop unless you tell me to, sick or not." I kiss the spot behind her ear, feeling like my heart will beat out of my chest.

Her voice cracks, barely audible. "Y-you wouldn't."

I grunt, palm her throat, and flick my tongue on her lobe several times.

She squirms beneath me. A tiny whimper reverberates in the air, and I force myself to tear myself away from her. "You've been warned," I add, walking to the bathroom and turning on the shower.

I keep the water cold, trying to cool my blood, but nothing works. Everything about her has permeated me, and I can't let it go. Her scent flares in my nostrils. The sound of her whimper echoes in my mind. Her soft skin taunts me. I thought I remembered how it felt, but touching her after all this time only proved me wrong. And the way her lips part and eyes lock on mine is a visual that plays on repeat.

A long, cold shower and several minutes staring at myself in the mirror and telling myself she's sick and to be a gentleman do nothing for my arousal. It's pointless to even try to fight it. I finally wrap a towel around my body and leave the bathroom, determined to stay what's left of the night on the couch.

Unable to stop, I convince myself I need to check on her. I go into the bedroom and stand over her. She looks and sounds like she's asleep, so I press my hand to her forehead.

Happy she doesn't feel hot, I watch her for a few moments, ordering myself to leave. I finally turn, take a step, and her hand grabs my lower quad. I freeze.

She whispers, "Luca?"

Tingles fly down my spine. I spin. "You're awake."

She asks, "Where are you going?"

"To the couch." I clench my jaw, forcing myself not to get into bed with her.

"It's..."

I wait.

She continues, "It's a bad couch."

The fire in my blood reignites. "Bad?"

She clears her throat. "Yeah. Super lumpy. A tad stinky."

I bite on my smile. "Lumpy and stinky?"

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