Luca: A Chicago Blaze Romance

by Rothert, Brenda

Anthony walks in with a steaming mug of coffee and sets it on my desk.

  “Good as new,” he says brightly. “Ready for me to bring in your one o’clock?”

  “Please. And Anthony…thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  I take a sip of coffee and put on my game face. The team of designers I’m meeting with are full of energy, and they launch right into their presentation about their work.

  I’m considering adding their line to Cypress Lane, and while I could have my core staffers in here, too, I like to meet with prospective designers one on one at first. I’ve got a good feeling about this line of rustic-inspired furniture, so everyone on my team will be present at the next meeting so I can get some extra input.

  The small amount of sleep I got made me feel worlds better than I usually do by afternoon. But I’m already worrying about whether it’ll affect my sleep tonight. I have to be able to fall asleep immediately and stay out until my alarm sounds.

  “You guys did great,” I tell the designers at the end of their presentation. “I’d like to set up a meeting with some of my staff to talk about the next steps.”

  Their happiness is infectious and I’m still smiling when my financial planners come into my office for a 2:00 p.m. meeting to discuss additions to the retirement packages we offer employees.

  “Did you see that Hoffman got traded?” Andrew is saying to Chris as they walk in.

  “No way!”

  “Abby,” Andrew says. “Great to see you again.”

  “You too.”

  “We were just talking hockey,” Chris says. “Are you a hockey fan?”

  I get warm all over as I remember my night with Luca nearly a month ago. I’m definitely a big fan of his.

  “Kind of,” I say nonchalantly.

  “Oh yeah? Chargers fan?” Andrew asks.

  “The Blaze, actually.”

  “Ah, nice. They’re having a great season.” He walks over to the table in my office where we usually go over numbers. “I think we’ve got some good options put together for you.”

  I listen, but now I’m distracted by thoughts of Luca. Behind the gorgeous blue eyes and handsome smile is a very red-blooded man with impossible stamina, a big cock and a dirty mouth.

  “I fucking love the way you ride me.”

  “That pretty little mouth deserves a good fucking.”

  “You have such a perfect pussy.”

  Andrew raises his brows expectantly. “What do you think, Abby?”

  Crap. I got so lost in my erotic thoughts of Luca that I stopped paying attention to the retirement options. I cross my legs and a tingling sensation warms my core.

  “Sorry, my mind was wandering there for a bit.” I slide my reading glasses up onto the bridge of my nose. “But when I read the summary you sent over last week, I liked your suggestion that we offer different tiers.”

  Andrew smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that. We’ll get packets prepared for when we discuss this at the employee meeting.”

  “Great.”

  As he leaves my office, Andrew says, “I’ve got Chargers season tickets. Maybe I’ll give you a call next time they play the Blaze.”

  “Um, sure.” I shake his hand a final time, flustered by my thoughts of Luca.

  When I close my office door behind Andrew and Chris, I take a deep breath. What’s with me? I’m getting all hot and bothered over a man I haven’t seen in three weeks. A man I never plan to see again.

  I have a few minutes free before my next meeting, so I sit down at my desk to check my email. The Chicago projects are running smoothly, at least from what I can tell, and I’m flying back to Chicago tomorrow for a week on the job sites so I can assess them in person.

  A reservation confirmation email for the Palmer House appears in my inbox and my thoughts turn back to Luca.

  Our night together wasn’t just about mind-blowing sex for me. It was also one of the rare times I felt alive in a good way in the past three years.

  I work hard not just to avoid painful memories, but to avoid feeling. Feeling hurts so damn much almost all the time. But that night with Luca, I felt sexy and happy and alive in a way that didn’t cut deep.

  What if I could feel that way again? Just for one more night?

  I take out my phone, search for his contact and send out a text before I have time to rethink it.

  Me: Hey, guess who?

  I wait for an immediate response, half-expecting one—he did ask for my number—but nothing comes. Tossing my phone to the side, I decide it’s for the best.

  I try to focus on a financial report I need to review before a meeting tomorrow, but my curiosity gets the better of me, and before I know it, I’ve googled Luca Campbell.

  He’s a twenty-eight-year-old star forward. He once dated a famous figure skater, and the photos of them together are stunning. She’s beautiful. He’s been named a most-eligible bachelor by several Chicago publications, he’s an avid fisherman, and he supports the Special Olympics. And the unholiest of holies, he’s incapable of taking a bad photo—go figure.

  According to his bio on the Blaze website, Luca is also single and doesn’t have kids.

  He’s pretty much a perfect Chicago booty call. At least for one more night. I don’t want to start anything regular that either of us will get attached to.

  I’m ogling his photos when my phone dings with a text notification. My heart skips when I see it’s from him.

  Luca: I don’t know, Henry?

  I feel a little guilty that I didn’t give him my number after our night together. But I couldn’t have predicted I’d want to see him again. We’re talking about a long distance booty call. Even though I’m now second-guessing myself, I write back.

  Me: It’s Abby. Palmer House Abby.

  Luca: Hey Abby, how’s it going?

  Me: Pretty good. I’m going to be in Chicago for a week starting tomorrow. Want to get together?

  Luca: Depends when. My schedule’s tight.

  I bristle at his implied brush off. I’ve used the old “tight schedule” line many times myself. For a minute, I try to think of a response, but I end up deciding to just ignore him.

  Within five minutes, though, he messages again.

  Luca: I really do have a tight schedule. Two road trips in the next week. I like you, and I’d love to see you again if we can make something work.

  I soften, my shoulders slumping with relief.

  Me: I’ll be done working by 7 p.m. every night. I can make any night that works for you work for me.

  Luca: Okay, how about Thursday night? I won’t be able to stay the night though.

  Me: Who says I want you to?

  Luca: Playing coy now? You can kick me out when you’re sick of having great orgasms, how about that?

  I smile at the screen.

  Me: Deal.

  Luca: I’m glad you messaged. Been thinking about you.

  Me: Same. See you Thursday. Palmer House lobby.

  Luca: See you then. Wear something sexy for me.

  My grin widens. What is it about this guy? His boy-next-door charm and secret dirty side turn me on like nothing else. He’s worth breaking my one-night stand rule for.

  One more night. A few more hours of feeling crazy good. And then, I’ll delete his number.

  Chapter Ten

  Luca

  Damned if Abby doesn’t look even prettier the second time I see her. I noticed her sitting at the Palmer House bar from across the lobby as soon as I walked in. Her long, wavy hair is loose around her shoulders and she looks casual in dark jeans and a black V-neck shirt. Legs crossed, she’s immersed in reading something on her phone, wearing dark-rimmed reading glasses.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” I say as I approach her at the bar.

  When I lean down to kiss her cheek, she turns and gives me a quick, sweet kiss on the lips instead. My cock twitches with approval. I’m so turned on by Abby’s quiet confidence.

  “I like your glasses,” I say in a low tone. />
  She leans in and responds in a tone only I can hear. “I like your cock.”

  Oh, hell. I’ve got a full erection now. I put my palm low on her back and whisper in her ear, “You gonna let me eat dinner before we fuck?”

  “If it’s eating you want…”

  I close my eyes and let out a breath. “Damn, Abby. I want it all. Get that sexy ass upstairs.”

  She gives me a coy smile. “Down, boy. Don’t you think we should have dinner first?”

  I laugh low in her ear, making sure she feels the warmth of my breath on her neck. “You’d better eat fast.”

  I slide onto the barstool next to hers and we make small talk over drinks—red wine for her and Guinness for me. She tells me she’s back and forth between Chicago and New York often for her sales job. Perfect. I’d love for this to become a regular thing.

  Even though I don’t want a relationship, I don’t think I can survive without semi-regular sex. I’ve been having sex since I was sixteen, and I can’t just abstain until the kids are grown. Road trip hookups have been getting me by for the past year, but they don’t compare to Abby.

  “So I admit to not knowing much about hockey,” she says. “Put the puck in the net, right?”

  “Yep, that’s about it. I’m a forward, so I work offense.”

  “Ever lose any teeth?”

  “Just the one my brother chipped when we were kids. Fucker hit me smack in the face with a hockey stick.”

  “Have you always loved hockey?”

  I nod. “I was hooked from the time I could hold a stick. Played a lot of street hockey growing up.”

  “And where was that?”

  I arch my brows. “That’s a pretty personal question, Abby. I thought you only wanted sex from me.”

  Her cheeks turn a sexy shade of pink. “Right, sorry.”

  I grin. “I’m kidding. I grew up in Des Moines.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. You?”

  She hesitates before answering. “I grew up in the Phoenix area.”

  “And what’s your last name?”

  Another hesitation.

  “I’m not looking to stalk you or anything,” I say. “Promise. I just want to know who I’m fantasizing about on all those lonely nights in my hotel room.”

  She smiles. “Barrett.”

  We order food and the small talk continues. Abby and I discuss TV shows (neither of us watch much), a little politics (neither of us care much), and even the weather.

  I’m intrigued by how different Abby is from other women. I’ve met plenty of women who said they didn’t want anything serious, but I guess their definition of serious was different than mine. They still dropped hints about the future, expected me to be exclusive with them whether we’d discussed it or not, and got jealous if other women so much as looked at me.

  But when the female bartender blatantly checks me out, Abby just smiles and says, “I know, he’s hot, right?”

  The bartender blushes, agrees and retreats. I put a hand on Abby’s thigh and fuck if she doesn’t bite her lip in a way that makes me hard yet again.

  “I’m sorry I had to run out so quick after last time,” I say.

  “It’s okay.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I had to run, too. I sometimes cram too many meetings into these trips.”

  “So what kind of sales do you do?”

  “Furniture.”

  “Ah. You want to sell me some furniture for my house?”

  Her eyes gleam with amusement. “Maybe.”

  “We might need to try it all out first, though. Maybe some heavy making out on the couch to make sure it’s comfortable. I could bend you over the dining table so we know it’s the right height.”

  Abby licks her lips and softly adds, “I should probably ride you in every single chair too, for research purposes of course.”

  “Do you realize how fucking crazy you make me?”

  “Me?” She gives me a fake innocent look. “You aren’t the one with soaked panties right now.”

  “Fuuuck.” I close my eyes. “I will be if you keep talking like that.”

  I’m about two seconds from throwing Abby over my shoulder and taking her upstairs when our dinner arrives. She butters a piece of bread and eats it with her chicken marsala. I really dig a woman who actually eats.

  “You want a bite of my steak?” I offer.

  She nods as she chews, which is cute as hell. Even her look of satisfaction when she tastes the filet is sexy.

  When she goes to the bathroom, I check my phone and breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t see any texts or missed calls. Tonight only worked out because Sheila had already asked me if she could take the kids to an indoor water park for the evening. She’s meeting some friends and their grandkids there and thought the kids would have fun.

  They must be having a good time since Cora hasn’t texted. I’m hoping she’ll be so tired she goes right to sleep when they get home and won’t notice when I slip in later. If I’m there when the kids wake up, it should be fine. They’re used to me being in and out because of my hockey schedule.

  By the time Abby returns, I’m done eating. When I ask for the bill, she says, “I had it put on my tab.”

  I give her a disapproving look. “I’d prefer to pay.”

  “It doesn’t matter who pays, Luca.”

  “It matters to me.”

  Abby shakes her head. “This isn’t a date.”

  “I never said it was.”

  She furrows her brow in aggravation. “Why are we standing here arguing like a couple when we could be screwing our brains out?”

  “That’s a good question.” I cross my arms. “I think it’s because you paid the check instead of leaving it for me.”

  “I expensed it, like I do every meal I eat here. So really, my company paid it, not me.”

  I consider her reasoning for all of two seconds. “I still don’t like it.”

  Abby throws her arms up in exasperation. “Luca—”

  “But,” I cut in, “I’ll allow it as long as we agree that I pay for everything in the future.”

  She scoffs. “In the future? You think this is going to be a regular thing now?”

  My wolfish grin makes her cheeks flush. “I do, Miss Barrett.” I step closer and speak in a low tone only she can hear. “I think once you feel my cock inside that sweet little pussy again, you’ll want more. And more. And more.”

  As I bend down to kiss her neck, I feel her warm breath against my ear. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” I stand up, give her a chiding look and then succumb to my caveman instincts.

  Abby cries out in surprise as I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  “Luca! What are you—stop!” She’s half-laughing, half-begging for mercy. “No, my phone! Get my phone.”

  Other people are giving us amused looks now. I grab her phone from the bar, grin at the bartender and book it across the lobby.

  “I cannot believe you did that!” Abby protests as I jog up the escalator.

  “Room number?”

  “I’m not telling you ‘til you put me down.”

  I reach up and tickle her side. She giggles and thrashes, quickly spitting out the room number.

  “How do we get in?” I ask as I sprint up another flight of stairs.

  “There’s a key card in the slot on my phone case. But I’m not sure I’m even letting you in!”

  I laugh as I remove one of my arms securing Abby in my fireman’s hold and use my free hand to locate the key. “I’m pretty sure you are.”

  She smacks my ass.

  “Harder,” I call over my shoulder.

  “I hate you right now.”

  I stop outside the room, insert the key card to open the door, and carry her inside. But instead of putting her on the bed, I slide her slowly off my shoulder, keeping my hands beneath her ass and her legs wrapped around my waist.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I say as I look at he
r messy hair and sparkling eyes.

  “Stop trying to get back on my good side.” She tightens her thighs around me, creating some light friction against my erection, and I groan.

  “As soon as I get you off for the first time, all will be forgiven,” I say, kissing her.

  “You think?”

  “Hmm. If not, I’ll just have to keep going until we’re good.”

  “It might take a really long time.” She unwraps her arms from around my back and strips her shirt off over her head.

  “Works for me,” I murmur.

  Abby’s even hungrier for me tonight than she was the first time. She kisses me deeply and moans with satisfaction as I slowly undress her and run my lips over her bare skin. Sex has always been fun for me, but it’s more earnest with Abby. She’s uninhibited and invested. Abby doesn’t just lie in bed passively. She gives and takes with a passion that makes it clear she doesn’t just want this—she needs it.

  As I slide her panties down, she arches her back and cries out softly.

  “I want your mouth on me,” she whispers.

  “Can’t quite hear you,” I tease, kissing her inner thigh.

  “Luca…”

  “Abby.” I kiss my way down her leg to her knee, and she curls her fingers into my hair.

  “Lick my pussy,” she says softly.

  “Hmm? A little louder, gorgeous.”

  She groans with frustration and then raises her voice. “Lick my pussy. Now.”

  My mouth is on her within seconds, the tip of my rock-hard cock pressed against the mattress. She tastes as sweet as I remember, and the way she pulls my hair and rocks her hips is driving me crazy.

  I tease and lick before easing one finger into her, and then another. When I brush my tongue over her clit again, she lets out a long, loud moan. God, it’s fucking hot to feel her coming apart. She comes hard before lazily falling back down to the mattress.

  “You’ve got a gift,” she says, her tone soft and sated.

  I lie on my back beside her. “I like making you feel good.”

  Abby turns my way and kisses me softly, wrapping her hand around my swollen shaft at the same time.

  “Ah…shit.” I groan at the feel of her fingertips gently caressing me.

  She kisses her way down my chest, my cock throbbing hard as she goes lower. By the time she runs her tongue around my tip, I already feel like I could come.