by Haley Jenner
“Don’t you have to get to work?” I grumble.
“Do you want to expecto my patronus?” She bounces on her heels, tongue caught between her teeth.
I break, my smile widening across my face. “You should be so lucky.” I move around the coffee table as she backs away. “My patronus is a special kind of charm.”
Her giggle rings out through the apartment, and I want to eat it up. Crash my mouth down on hers and get drunk on her happiness.
Her feet back her toward the bed, and I let my smile turn triumphant.
“This is weird, it’s a kid’s book and we’re referencing your penis. Wait.” Her feet pause, the book held up between us. “We are talking about your penis, right?”
My hips hit hers, walking her back to her perfectly made bed, the back of her knees hitting the mattress to drop her to her ass.
“Firstly.” I yank my shirt over my head, watching her eyes darken with lust. “Harry Potter is not a kid’s book. And second.” I unbuckle my jeans. “Yes, we’re talking about my charmed penis.”
Teeth imprinting on her bottom lip, she widens her legs, letting my hips fit firmly between.
"Open up, baby, your man’s about to slytherin,"
"Oh," she giggles. "You gonna huffe-my-puff?"
"Better believe I'm gonna griff-in-your-door."
Her quiet giggles have morphed into full-blown laughter, neck tipped back, hair fanned out around her face.
She's a fucking diamond.
Rare. Bright. Beautifully boundless.
I watch her as her laugh dies off abruptly, a hand coming up between us to point at me accusingly.
"Wait." Her eyes alight with amusement. "Did you try and rename my dog after your Harry Potter house?"
Griff barks, a perfect echo to her charge, and I raise an eyebrow in challenge. "Firstly." I grab hold of my book, tossing it up the bed to pin her hands above her head. "He's our dog. We voted. You lost."
A smug tug at her lips. "That so?"
I grind my hips against her in affirmation.
"Second, I didn't try to rename him. We rebranded. Another vote. You lost that one too."
A dark brow rises; both thrill and challenge dripping along the small gesture. I duck my head, sucking her nipples through the thin cotton of her shirt.
"And third," I snarl against the wet material, her dusty colored peaks teasing me, tempting me. "I'm no Gryffindor. All serpent, Crazy Girl." I thrust myself forward, pushing my hardness against her.
"You're insufferable," she moans, arching into me. "Take my pants off, Luc," she grumbles softly after, needing more.
I flick her cotton covered nipples with my tongue once more. "Agree to call him Griff."
"What?" she cries, her wrists pulling at the bruising kiss my hand is offering them.
"Agree that his name is Griff, and I'll give you what you want, baby, what you need." My teeth nip at her stiffened peaks, dragging the cotton away on my retreat.
Her midnight eyes flutter closed, a soft whimper snaking between us, wrapping around my spine. It tightens, twists and prickles across my skin.
Lids opening, her gaze skates across the expanse of my chest, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. Can she see it? My heart. Thumping so powerfully within me that I’m afraid she’ll see it trying to escape, to get closer. To climb into her own chest and nestle against hers, match its rhythm like it belongs there.
“He looks more like a Griff,” she concedes, but the teasing of her tone is lost, something deeper working behind her eyes.
Time seems to stop; our breathing definitely does. Hands pulling from my grip without resistance, she cups my face, her soft palms caressing my cheeks.
Arching her neck up, she drags the pillow of her lips across mine. Not quite a kiss, more a temptation, an invitation. One I don’t deny her.
Our lips meet in a brush so gentle, you could scarcely call it a kiss. But it seems more profound, more important than any kiss I’ve been given before. More than that, than any kiss I’ve given before. An intimacy shared between hearts.
When our lips touch again, I let it last longer, tasting her. Still, it’s just our lips, body pressed together at the tentative exploration.
My tongue licks out, and joins hers without delay, stroking gently where our lips touch.
I consider I could do this forever, lay here with this girl, just tasting her lips. Though as Murphy’s Law would have it, as soon as the thought appears in my head, Griff huffs an irritated bark as three quick raps on our front door break the moment.
Pulling a hand from my face, she brings a single finger against her lips; a silent plea to let it be.
Leaning down, I kiss her finger; a promise, just as quiet, to do just that.
“Luca!” Her fists sound on the door in three forceful thumps.
The voice, like ice cold water down my spine has me standing in shock. Swallowing down the tirade of emotion and panic threatening to swallow me whole, I ignore the inquisitive flare in Frankie’s eyes.
“I know you’re in there, Luca,” she shouts. “Open this goddamn door.”
Coughing to clear the ball of hate, of regret I’d spent years burying, it slides farther up my throat, choking me.
I move toward the door, hand outstretched before my clenched fist withdraws. My hands find my pants, zipping them up.
Inhaling heavily, I roll my shoulders, relieving the tension that lodged in my shoulders the moment I heard her voice.
I feel Frankie behind me, conscious consideration letting her remain a good three feet back. Pushing out a large breath, I glance over my shoulder, hoping she reads the apology in my eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
Frankie
“Jen.” His voice is sharp, laced with a fury that makes it obvious he has a very thin grasp on his emotions.
He’s blocking the doorway. Purposefully. His body wedged uncomfortably between the crack he’s allowed.
“Nice to see you too.” The sarcasm in the woman’s tone is obvious enough, but she’s right, welcoming isn’t exactly a word I would use to describe his greeting. Irritated, sure. Hostile, most definitely.
"What'dya want?"
I stand on my tiptoes, neck stretched to try to catch a glimpse of the woman on the receiving end of Luca's animosity.
I feel as though I should make myself scarce, but short of squeezing awkwardly between them to escape, I'm stuck.
I feel like an intruder. An unwanted guest and Luca's coiled back communicates that well enough.
I've seen Luca angry before; irritated, indifferent, furious even. But this, this is different.
The air whispers bitterly against my skin with the ice in his demeanor.
Unease claws its way up my spine, vertebrae by vertebrae.
Hairs on the very back of my neck stand on edge, bristling in unwanted anticipation.
It’s the unknown, the unfamiliar, because anger aside, I can sense his fear, his pain, his fragility. All twisted together in rage, in resentment. A potent bomb ready to detonate at any second.
"Let me in," she demands on an exasperated sigh.
His head shakes, but before his dismissal can be vocalized, her voice sounds again, her threat clear. "Before I cause a scene in this shithole you've decided to live in."
My eyes saucer, chin dipping backward in shock as I watch the defeat overtake Luca's frame. Head dropping, a heavy exhale escaping as his shoulders slump. Stepping back, he throws the door open, giving the woman a wide-berth. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, avoiding eye contact with both me and the bitchy stranger that struts through the door.
She’s beautiful. Thick blonde hair crowned around her head, soft tendrils having escaped to frame her cheeks. Eyes brown, their appeal lost in the disdain they shade the room in. But it’s her body that forces the green-eyed monster living deep within us all to rear her ugly head.
Her body is the epitome of woman. Think Kate Upton. Curves buxom and graceful; boobs full and unfairly per
ky, ass much the same.
It’s the pinched look in her face that twists her beauty though. That helps me tame that beast of envy fighting for traction within me. That makes her almost ugly. Almost. Her soul is black, that’s obvious. Tainted by the hate in which she views the world through.
Her feet pause when she sees me, a distasteful smile twisting at her painted lips. "I see."
"You see nothing," Luca rebuts, and I bite back the flinch of pain his words cause.
Nothing.
"I know she's nothing, I see why you tried to keep me on the landing like scum."
"If the shoe fits, or however the fuck that sayin’ goes, and don't ever speak about Frank like that again."
Her eyes roll just as she turns her back on me, essentially dismissing me.
That pisses me off. Big. Fucking. Time.
“I prefer if walks like a duck, talks like a duck…” I sing-song, winking over at Luca.
A small smile tugs at his lips, lips that only moments ago were loving mine. He shuts the door quietly, moving to retrieve his shirt, yanking it over his head aggressively.
“You wouldn’t answer my calls,” she accuses, eyes eating up his body before he covers it completely.
I’d like to punch her face. The thought shocks me, and I avert my eyes as if the two of them can read my mind.
Luc doesn’t respond, choosing to bristle beside me instead.
She sighs, pulling her designer handbag farther up her shoulder. Her eyes scan the apartment, judgment coating the room.
“You inherit god knows how much from your mother’s estate, and this is where you choose to live?”
Okay, did not know that.
“Got everything I need,” he coughs out.
“You’re rich?” I ask, my brow furrowing in shocked curiosity.
I watch as his anger at the woman in our home morphs into a fleeting look of disappointment, clearly misreading my curiosity.
His eyes assess me cautiously, his weighted silence answering for me.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Thor.” I cluck my tongue. “And all this time you could’a soundproofed that wall,” I accuse, gesturing toward the wall connecting Luca’s apartment to Jake’s. “I wouldn’t have to listen to Aubrey praise any god that’ll listen for Jake’s pierced cock.”
Luca’s lips twitch at the side, relief relaxing his shoulders as this mysterious woman scowls at me. Turning my attention to her, I smile sweetly. “He has two. Apparently. One in the head. The other at the base. Sounds painful, no? I thought so.” I exaggerate a cringe, my whole body shaking in fear. “I know he has these piercings because they seem to bring Aubrey an unprecedented level of pleasure.” Pausing, I flick my eyes over Luca’s body, feeling a tingle in every nerve. “Well, almost unprecedented.”
I stare at Luca, the desire I feel for him painted evidently on my face. “Anyway.” I shake my head, focusing back on the woman, on Jen. “I know that, because they fuck. A lot.”
“Reckon they get as good as they give, Crazy Girl,” he smirks and I bite my lip to disguise the shy smile at my mouth.
“Really, Luca?” the woman spits, but we ignore her.
“You know I sleep with a pillow over my head to drown them out, right? I could die,” I proclaim. “I feel betrayed…. We’ll speak of this later.”
He nods, laughter twinkling in his eyes, and an overwhelming sense of pride washes over me. Because for even that split second, that combustible anger that paralyzed him dissipates.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, frankly, I don’t care,” the woman bristles, pulling our attention once again. “But, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like a moment with my husband… alone.”
She was going for shock factor, which I give her in waves. It happens too fast for me to stop it. It ricochets through my body with the force of a gunshot, piercing my heart on exit.
I swallow the feeling of déjà vu threatening to choke me.
No. Not again. I can’t live this moment again. The claws of heartbreak ripping at my barely mended heart once again.
Schooling what I can in my expression, more than a little too late, Jen, Luca’s wife, smiles triumphantly. Of course she would, her pistol was aimed perfectly, the shot hitting exactly where she wanted. Now she’s enjoying watching on as my heart bleeds out.
I find it in me to turn my neck slightly, a wide-eyed and rock-solid Luca eyeing me pleadingly.
Clearly, they’re no longer together. I’m not stupid, their relationship is well and truly done. Still doesn’t change the fact that I’ve found myself once again entangled with a married man.
Plastering on the fakest smile I can muster, I turn back to his wife. “Wife?” I question, and she raises her eyebrows in victory.
“I imagine Luca communicated the end of your marriage well enough, considering he’s been in Carnation a few years now?” I smile sarcastically, Luca’s breath of relief sliding along my skin as a promise to explain.
Her smile drops, eyes boring into me, no doubt imagining my very painful death. “We’re taking a break is all. Things rekindled when he came home to bury his mom.”
“I am home,” he grits out. “And we didn’t rekindle shit, don’t create fairy tales in your head.”
I laugh softly, my pain manifesting in hate, directed solely at this woman. “I’d say you’re pretty much done… Especially” —I drop my voice, leaning toward her— “considering Luca’s been keeping me incredibly hot for a few months now.”
Bending at the waist, she barks out a laugh. “You think you’ll be enough for someone like him?” She stands upright again, wiping the amused tears from her eyes. “Honey,” she patronizes. “You ain’t even his type. He likes his women full.”
My hands hug my elbows, insecurity cloaking me. This woman has done nothing but strip away my confidence from the moment she threatened her way into our home. Jesus. How did Luc love someone this cold?
“She’s full where it matters, Jen. Don’t throw shit cuz you’re jealous,” Luca finally snaps, his arms crossing his chest, making his biceps bulge heavily under his shirt. “You ain’t welcome here. We were done years ago, and you know it. I told you I never wanted to see your fuckin’ lying face ever again, so it blows my mind that you’re standing in my apartment right now. Actually, doesn’t blow my mind, it pisses me right the fuck off.”
She straightens her shoulders, her eyes flicking to me briefly before landing back on Luca with an arched eyebrow. “Right. Fuck pleasantries,” she states and a shocked laugh bursts from my throat. Pleasantries. She scowls at me for a moment before turning her back on me to focus fully on Luca. “Look. We were together for years. I’m entitled to some of your cash. Now that your mom is finally dead, I know you have a sizeable account balance. I want some, then I’m gone.”
Luca’s arms drop from his chest, the pain on his face mirroring the dejected posture of his large body. He moves to speak, then stops. He does this once, twice, three times before once again settling on silence.
“You did not just fucking say that.” The quiet accusation in my tone lacerates through the room. My body itches with the want to launch in her direction, to scratch her eyeballs out. I refrain, but my voice communicates the desire well enough.
She startles at my tone, facing me again, her mouth beginning to open in another flagrant threat or insult, but I point my finger at her overly done up face. “Do. Not. Fucking. Speak. Now, I don’t know who you think you are. The two of you had history, that’s obvious, but it’s clear as fucking day to me that that ship has well and truly sailed.”
I swallow down the agony I feel for Luc.
“I don’t know what you did that was so fucking stupid to lose the love of someone like Luca, but you must be one dumb bitch.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I step forward, warning shooting from my eyes. “What you’re gonna do right now, is walk your ass right the fuck out of our door and back to whatever hell you came from. If we ever hear your name mentioned
in our vicinity again, we’ll have harassment lawyers on you so fast, you’ll be selling your fake tits to pay their bills. Comprènde?”
The hostility in her face twists so horribly I wonder what Luca ever saw in the bitch.
“You’re entitled to nothing,” I spit. “And you fucking well know it. Now get the fuck out of our home.”
She glances to Luca then back to me before turning on her high heeled foot and storming through the door, slamming it for dramatic effect.
We stand in stunned silence for long drawn out minutes, our eyes focused on the door she stood in front of not moments before. Shuffling on my feet, I turn my body to face him fully, my eyes scanning his frame. He’s vibrating with anger, the veins in his neck protruding in thick bruised lines.
“You’re a liar.”
His eyes dart to mine, fixing onto my face. “You’re a fucking liar,” I repeat on a whisper.
Scowling, he digs his hands into his pockets defensively. “I didn’t lie about shit, Frankie.”
My laugh is void of humor, the sound harsh in its delivery. “No such thing as lying through omission, that right?”
He shakes his head in irritation. “Don’t have to share every part of myself with you.”
Dropping my eyes to the carpet at my feet, I nod. “True enough. But I bled my soul to you.” I swallow down the ache in my heart. “I shared the most horrible parts of my life with you and you gave me absolutely fucking nothing.”
“She is fucking nothing,” he argues. “Jen ain’t worth any more of my time. I fucking hate reliving the shit storm I shared with her.” His hands rub along his face, a frustrated growl forced from his throat.
“I get that,” I concede. “But you think I wanna relive what went down with Brandon? You think I like sharing that part of my life with people? I thought if nothing else, we were friends, Luc. But you don’t trust me and that really fucking hurts.”
I move away from the door, attempting an escape to the bathroom but he grabs my arm. “Don’t do that,” he pleads. “Don’t fucking hide away from me.”
“Baby, you’re the one hiding. Not me.”
"What are you doing?" He moves into my space tugging the duffle I had stored under his bed from my hands.
