The world outside ceased to exist. The music, the clinking glasses, the murmurs of the gala—all of it faded into nothing. There was only Luca. His hands, his breath, his heat. The taste of his lips still lingered on mine, dark and intoxicating. My heart slammed against my ribs as I struggled to breathe, as if he had stolen the air straight from my lungs.
But then, reality came crashing back. The lights flickered, bright and blinding, and I stumbled a step back, my pulse a violent thrum in my veins. Luca's gaze burned into me, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen from our kiss. He looked like a man on the verge of losing control.
And God help me, I wanted him to lose it.
"Come with me," he murmured, his voice a rasp of sin against my ear.
I should have said no. I should have turned away, gathered my wits, and left before I sank any deeper into whatever this was. But my body betrayed me, and before I could think, I was following him through the gilded corridors of the venue, through the back exit where his driver waited beside a sleek black car. The moment we were inside, the air grew thick with something unspoken. He didn't touch me, but his presence consumed me.
The ride to his penthouse was silent, tense, and agonizingly slow. Every second that passed, I felt the ghost of his lips on mine, the phantom press of his body. My thighs clenched involuntarily, heat pooling in my core. I was unraveling, coming undone by the mere memory of his kiss.
Luca's penthouse was cast in the soft glow of city lights, shadows stretching along the walls, wrapping around us like an embrace. The air was thick—heavy with something unspoken, something dangerous.
I was still catching my breath, my pulse erratic from the kiss that had stolen my very sanity. My body hummed, every nerve hyperaware of Luca standing before me, his gaze dark and unreadable.
The elevator ride to the top floor stretched unbearably, the tension between us palpable, crackling like a live wire. I could feel his eyes on me, tracing the curve of my throat, the way my dress clung to me, the rapid rise and fall of my chest.
The doors slid open, and Luca grasped my hand, leading me inside. The penthouse was vast, drenched in midnight hues and the soft glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. But I barely had time to take it in before he turned to face me, his expression dark, his control fraying.
"Bella," he murmured, taking a slow, deliberate step toward me. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"
My breath hitched. "I could ask you the same thing."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
He took a slow step forward.
"Come here, Bella."
A simple command. Yet it sent a shiver down my spine, pooling heat between my thighs.
I should have hesitated. Should have thought this through. But I was already moving, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing full well I'd burn.
The second I reached him, his fingers brushed along my arm, featherlight, teasing. My skin erupted in goosebumps. He trailed higher, over my shoulder, up my neck, tracing the column of my throat with the back of his knuckles.
"So soft," he murmured. "So fucking perfect."
My lips parted, but no words came out. I could barely breathe, let alone think.
He tilted my chin up with his fingers, his gaze locking onto mine. "Tell me to stop, Bella."
I swallowed hard. My heart pounded. "I don't want you to stop."
His breath hitched. A muscle flexed in his jaw. And then— He kissed me. But not like before.
This wasn't just a kiss. This was possession.
His lips moved over mine with a slow, devastating hunger, his tongue sliding against mine in languid strokes, coaxing, teasing, devouring. My knees weakened, and he felt it—one strong arm wrapping around my waist, holding me up as if he knew I was seconds away from melting beneath him.
Next thing, I felt my back pressed against the wall, his hands framing my face, his lips crashing into mine with a hunger that stole every rational thought from my head. This wasn't the soft, testing kiss from before. This was fire, raw and consuming. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming, devouring, his hands mapping my body as if he were memorizing every curve, every dip, every inch of me that belonged to him in this moment.
My fingers tangled in his hair, nails dragging against his scalp as I arched into him, desperate for more. His body was solid against mine, his heat branding me through the thin fabric of my dress. I could feel the hard press of him against my stomach, and the realization sent a wave of arousal surging through me.
"Luca," I gasped when his lips trailed down my throat, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to make me shiver. His hands slid down my sides, gripping the fabric of my dress, bunching it up until his fingers found bare skin. He groaned, the sound vibrating against my neck.
"I should stop," he rasped, but his hands betrayed him, gripping my thighs and hoisting me up against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and I felt the hard length of him press right where I needed him most. My head fell back, a broken moan slipping from my lips.
"I don't want you to stop," I whispered again, truthfully.
His head lifted, his stormy gaze locking onto mine. "Don't tempt me, Bella."
But I already had.
One of his hands trailed up, sliding under the strap of my dress, pushing it down my shoulder agonizingly slow. His lips followed, kissing a searing path along my collarbone, lower, lower—
His hand slid higher up my thigh, fingers brushing dangerously close to my core. I trembled against him, every nerve ending igniting under his touch. My breath hitched as his fingers traced the lace of my panties, a featherlight caress that sent fire racing through my veins.
"Bella," he rasped, his lips trailing along my jaw, down the column of my neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses that set my skin ablaze. "You're shaking." I was. Every nerve in my body was electrified, caught between desperate want and something deeper, something unknown. My hands clung to his shoulders, my nails biting into the fabric of his crisp white shirt as I tried to steady myself.
"I've just... never—" I started, but the words stuck in my throat.
Luca froze. His body tensed, his grip on my waist tightening before his head lifted, those dark, stormy eyes searching mine. A flicker of something dangerous passed over his face—possession, excitement, a hunger so raw it sent heat curling low in my stomach.
"You've never?" His voice was a whisper of reverence and restraint, yet I could feel the shift in him. He pulled back, just enough to search my face, his gaze dark, unreadable.
"Bella…" His voice was hoarse, almost reverent. "You've never…" He repeated again but this time, it was more like a confirmation rather than a question.
My cheeks burned as realization dawned in his eyes. My silence was enough confirmation.
A slow, almost wicked smirk tugged at his lips. But there was something else in his expression too—something deeper, something possessive.
"Cazzo" he muttered under his breath, pressing his forehead against mine. His fingers flexed on my hips as if warring with himself. "You don't know what that does to me."
His forehead pressed against mine, his breaths uneven, his body tense as if he were restraining himself from taking me right then and there. His fingers traced slow, torturous patterns along my waist, down the curve of my hip, teasing, testing.
I whimpered at the loss when he pulled back, but the look in his eyes made my knees weak. Pure possession. He reached up, brushing his knuckles along my cheek, then down my throat, his touch featherlight yet searing.
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. "Is… is that a problem?"
His laugh was low, almost dangerous. "The only problem is that I want you too much, Bella." He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening. "And if I take you now, I won't stop. I fuck, hard, mi amore and that is why I am going to take it slow. I won't rush this". he said "Not with you."
The words sent a shudder through me. Heat, thick and potent, coiled low in my belly. "Ugh! Please!," I whispered, tilting my chin up, pressing my lips to his jaw, pleasing, needing more, half moaning.
I have never ever felt like this. I have never even came this close. This far.
Luca let out a sharp breath, his control fraying at the edges. He surged forward, capturing my mouth in a searing, punishing kiss. His hands roamed my body, slow, deliberate, savoring every inch of me. He took his time, letting the tension build, letting the anticipation drive us both insane.
But when he finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against mine, I knew he had made his decision. A dark smirk tugged at his lips.
"Oh, Bella." His thumb brushed over my lower lip, his eyes hooded with desire.
"I plan to take my time."
His lips found mine again, slower this time, savoring, teasing. His hands mapped my body like he was learning me, memorizing every gasp, every shiver, every place that made me melt beneath his touch.
The night stretched on, and so did the tension, the build-up, the exquisite torture of wanting more but never quite reaching that point. Luca was patient, deliberate, making sure every moment was imprinted on my skin.
"Not like this," he murmured, his voice strained. "Not tonight. It has to be special. For you"
Disappointment flooded me, but beneath it was something else—something warm, something dangerous.
As he laid me down on his bed, his body hovering over mine, I knew one thing for certain; 'We weren't done. Not by a long shot. This was only the beginning.'