Luca laughed so loud that I was sure the neighbors heard him. Covering his mouthto muffle the sound, his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You’re a goof, but I’m glad I’m so impressive.”
“In more ways than one,”I whispered back to him.
He leaned across the cutting board. “Why are you whispering?”
“You were whispering, so I figured it was appropriate.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah, my neighbors.” He gestured to the wall with the knife. “My sister-in-law and nephew live next door, and the kitchens share a wall. I try to bequietlate at night in this part of the house.”
“Ah.So,no loud activities on this beautiful butcher block. Noted.” I brushed my fingertips over the top of my cleavage, and Luca’s eyes zero in on the movement. “What about your bedroom? Any shared walls?”
His head shook. “Not one.”
I smiled. “Excellent.” Resting my elbow on the counter, I tapped my fingers against my collarbone. “Do I need to burn those sandwiches, or are you going to deliver the goods, Gordon Ramsay?”
Luca focused back on his cutting board and shook his head. As he chopped and assembled the sandwiches for the skillet, I stared at him shamelessly. He was so handsome. Even his imperfections turned me on. I was close to saying fuck the sandwich, but he had already done so much work.
“Hey, Luca?”
He kept his eyes down. “Yes.”
“Can I go steal a shirt? This dress may be sexy, but I am a little uncomfortable.”
That got his attention. He checked me out from top to bottom, his teeth snagging his lip before he cleared his throat and dropped some butter on the hot skillet. “Sure. Upstairs, first room on the left.”
I hopped off the stool and left the kitchen.
Photos of what I assumed were his family lined the stairwell. One picture showed a younger Luca, his arm thrown around a devastatingly handsome man that had to be his brother in tuxes, laughing. The next was of the same hottie and Luca’s sister-in-law. She looked like a completely different woman—no limp noodle present, only a drop-dead gorgeous woman marrying a man she clearly loved.
At the top of the stairs was a photo of Luca and a little boy. It had to be his nephew. The way they smiled at each other made me all teary-eyed. Luca looked right with a child in hisarms, and I worried about what that thought meant for me. I wasn’t even sure I wanted children, but now I was picturing Luca holding babies that may or may not have my green eyes and his black hair.
Oh god, we’d have goth children.
Shaking off drunk, weirdo thoughts, I hurried up the rest of the stairs.
Luca’s bedroom was precisely how I imagined it would be—Light gray on the walls except for a single navy accent wall behind the bed, white linens, and dark wood. It was masculine, stylish,and far too neat.
Going into his closet, I pulled out a worn Wash U t-shirt. Slipping out of my dress, I pulled it on. My ass was hanging out the bottom, but what did I care? Maybe it would get the ball rolling.
My hands caressed the duvet cover, and I moaned at how soft it was. The mattress had the perfect amount of give when I pressed down. There was no way around it. I needed to be lying down. Standing was no longer for me.
Tossing my dress aside, I slid into bed. His sheets were exquisite. I sighed with pleasure as I ran my bare legs across the thousand thread count miracles. This was the life.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs drew my attention, and I popped up. Luca walked in,wearing a big smileand carrying a tray with two sandwiches and two tall glasses of water.
“I knew I’d lose you to the bed.”
Smiling sheepishly, I scooted to rest my back against the headboard. “Sorry, but when I felt the covers, I had to give this baby a test drive.”
Luca set the tray of food down on the side table. “I get it.”
Walking away from the bed, he unbuckled his belt, pulling it off and hanging it in the closet. Next, he unbuttoned his pants, let them pool at his feet, stepped out of them, and then folded them nicely. He gingerly set the pants in a basket full of dry-clean-only items.
Then Luca loosened his tie and carefully rolled it, placing it in a drawer in his built-in closet. In an impressively short amount of time, he unbuttoned his dress shirt, folded it, and added it to the basket. Finally, he pulled his undershirt over his head, tossing it in a different basket.
When he turned back to me, I was too distracted by his well-rehearsed routine to be rightfully impressed by his near-nudity.
Grabbing the tray, he sat down on the bed. “What?”