Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I go over to the intercom and punch in his suite number. Feels like a punch to the gut that this will be the last time I enter that code.
It rings.
A crackle. Then a wary, “Olá?”
“It’s me. It’s Ruby.”
Silence.
My heart beats faster.
Then the door buzzes and unlocks.
I open it, go up the elevator. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion for some reason.
I get off on his floor and walk to his door.
It opens as I near.
I barely see him as he opens it wide, letting me walk right in.
I’m going to miss this place. The bright light. Everything smelling like him. Comforting, warm, a little bit spicy.
The door closes behind me and I turn around.
Goddamn it, he looks incredible.
He’s wearing charcoal grey jeans and a white tee-shirt that’s loose around the neck, his hair deliciously messy, wavy strands of it flopping over his forehead.
His eyes search mine and I can tell he’s trying to keep some distance, he’s trying to make sure there are no misunderstandings between us.
“Hi,” I tell him. My voice sounds so small and creaky.
“Hi,” he says, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the movement making the muscles on his golden biceps pop. He licks his lips and looks away briefly, as if afraid to hold eye contact with me.
I can tell he doesn’t want me here.
I’ll make it brief.
“I won’t take up too much of your time,” I tell him. My hands hang at my sides and I’m unsure what to do with them. “I just came here to say goodbye.”
He frowns, looking at me sharply. “Goodbye?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow.” I give him a faint smile. “It didn’t feel right just sending you a text.”
His lips move but no sound comes out.
How strange to know what those lips feel like against mine.
What they tasted like.
How they moved against my mouth, like we were two people learning to breathe together.
“Why?” he says. His voice is low and rough, making my skin tingle. He clears his throat, his brows furrowing. “You have two weeks, don’t you?”
“You’ve been counting down?” I ask sweetly, not sure if I should be flattered or not.
He draws in his lower lip through his teeth and then gestures to the bar chairs at the kitchen island. “Here. Sit. Tell me what’s happening.”
I sigh. In some ways I just wanted to tell him and leave so I could put him behind me and never look back.
I walk over to the chair and plunk down on it, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. All the stress over what’s happening is hitting me at once, my bones feeling heavy.
“I know it’s been a while since I’ve been here,” I tell him, elbows on the table, my head in my hands. “But do you have anything to drink? Because I could really use something. Anything.”
I can feel his eyes on me, assessing the situation, perhaps about to tell me that I drink too much. Perhaps I do.
“I think so,” he says after a moment.
I look up, watching him as he goes into his living room and opens a cupboard beside his vinyl collection and record player. Fuck, he has such a nice ass. All football players do, but his really takes the cake. I’m going to miss staring at that ass when he’s not looking.
He brings out a bottle of scotch and places it on the table in front of me. Then he turns and grabs two shot glasses off the shelf above the sink.
“I have proper rocks glasses,” he says to me, screwing off the cap. “But I feel these might be more appropriate.” He pours the scotch in the glasses and then hands me one.
“Shot first?” he asks.
I’m a little dumfounded. I’ve never seen him take a shot before. Never seen him drink in the middle of the day before.
“Bottoms up,” I tell him, raising my glass.
We keep eye contact as we slam them back, until I have to look away, the alcohol burning my eyes. “Wow. Ow. That burns.”
I manage to look at him, squinting through tears.
Luciano looks as cool as a cucumber. Of course he does.
When doesn’t he?
That night. That night he kissed you. He looked wild.
I swallow that image down with the scotch.
“Better?” he asks me. He pulls out a chair across from me and sits down, pouring us both another shot. “What’s going on? Why are you leaving tomorrow? Where?”
“I guess I’m going to Barcelona.”
“You guess?”
I shrug, bringing the glass toward me, staring down at the tawny liquid. “Yeah. Marco bought me a plane ticket.”
“He’s going with you?” Luciano frowns.
I give him a dry look. “He broke up with me.”
“Oh.” His forehead creases. “I’m sorry…”
“Are you?”
“Yes,” he says. “Of course I am.”
He takes another shot.
I take mine.
The sting feels beautiful this time around.
“Did you know that Marco was planning on breaking up with me?”
He shakes his head, looking me right in the eyes. “No.”
I believe him.
“If you knew, would you have tried to convince him otherwise?”
He stares. Swallows.
“I don’t know.”
I believe him there too.
I breathe out harshly and sit back in my chair, already feeling a bit buzzed. “You know, I knew we had to end it. But there was a part of me that thought maybe the end wouldn’t come. Maybe I’d find a way.”
Luciano doesn’t say anything to that. I glance at him and I can’t read his eyes at all. His body language is stiff, his fingers grip the glass.
“I think,” I go on, “it was more important for me to find a way to stay here, rather than find a way to be with him.”
“So then don’t go to Barcelona,” he says mildly.
“And do what? Stay in Lisbon for another few weeks?”
Luciano lifts a shoulder, looking down at his drink. “Why not?”
“Because there’s nothing here for me.”
He licks his lips and nods. “I see,” he says after a beat.
God, I hate this runaround. I hate not knowing where we stand. Part of me wants Luciano to ask me to stay on his behalf. The other part of me knows that would be setting myself up for future heartbreak. I mean, Marco didn’t break my heart. He broke my confidence a little, knocked down my pride. Definitely taught me some humility. No matter how you look at it, rejection is never fun.
But Luciano. Luciano Adrien Duarte Ribeiro, if you’re going by his full Portuguese name. If I stayed to be with him, and then I had to leave, I would be ruined in the end. Absolutely devastated. This man standing in front of me has the power to break my heart open with a single kiss, I have no doubt anything more would leave me shattered.
“What if I asked you to stay?” he asks softly, taking me by surprise.
He meets my eyes, and now I can read them. Now I see the warmth in them.
The hope.
The fear.
The desire.
The exact same feelings that are burning down my spine like a candle wick.
“I can’t,” I say. My words come out in a whisper. “I think…I think that would be a bad idea.”
“Then what if I asked you to stay for tonight?”
My heart skips a beat, feeling heavy in my chest.
He’s asking me to stay with him.
Just for one night.
One night is all we can give each other.
I want to give him everything for once.
I feel my pulse tick in my throat, my stomach feeling effervescent.
I stare at him and he gives a tiny lift of his brow, expectant.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I’ll stay for
tonight.”
Whatever tension ebbed and flowed between us the moment I stepped into his place is now as taut as a tightrope, fastening me to him, growing tighter, thinner, threatening to either break or bring us together.
He gets up and walks around the island.
Stops beside me. Looms over me.
God, he’s just so much man.
I tilt my head back to stare up at him, watching his eyes as they pin me in place, searching the threads of red and the faintest lines of green amongst the brown. They are dreamy eyes. They are eyes that promise me things I never thought I’d ask for.
He reaches out and slips his hand through my hair to the back of my head, holding me there. His nostrils flare as he takes me in, our faces close, my lips parting.
Wanting.
Waiting.
My eyes fall closed as his lips gently brush against mine. His breath is hot, his lips warm, and something in my heart explodes.
The rest of me melts.
His tongue softly teases the rim of my lips and I open my mouth wider to let him in, open myself up to him, like I’ve reached into my chest, exposing my heart for the first time.
This is the slowest, most sensual kiss, it’s almost pornographic. It’s wet and aching and my toes are curling so much my sandals drop to the floor.
I suck at Luciano’s bottom lip, gently bite it, and the resulting moan makes my whole body clench. The pounding in my chest intensifies until it’s filling my ears and all I can think about is him, all I can feel is him.
How is this real?
He moves back, just a little, placing kisses at the corner of my mouth, along my jaw, the sweet spot beneath my ear. While his fingertips dig into the back of my head, his other hand moves up to my waist, sliding under the hem of my top.
I suck in my breath, tightening my abs, his fingers rough and slightly ticklish against my skin as they slowly make their way up to my breast.
Jesus.
This is happening.
My bra is a lacey underwire, barely supportive on a chest like mine, but definitely pretty.
Definitely flimsy.
I feel everything as his thumb passes over my breast, brushing against my nipple until I gasp. It hardens underneath his touch, my body tingling as his warm mouth makes its way down my neck to where it meets my shoulder. He sucks at my skin, while his hand works my breast, palming me, feeling the weight of it.
He groans again and I swear I’m injected with pure lust because all I can do is squeeze my legs together, trying to manage the need that’s building inside me.
Good luck with that, I think to myself as he bites my neck, making me squirm in my seat, my heart threatening to punch through my chest.
I just have one night.
I am wasting no time with this man.
I reach down with shaking hands to his jeans, eagerly trying to pop the first button while pulling him closer to me. There’s an urgency now that wasn’t there before and he responds to it, his mouth finding mine again. This time our kiss is harder, faster. It’s messy and sweet and unspools something inside me, all these emotions I’ve carried for Luciano over the last two and a half months.
I feel for him. Something. Everything.
In every way.
“I want you,” I manage to say against his lips. “I need you.”
He pauses, just enough to look me in the eyes. Fire flashes in them and I see myself in the flames, burning along with him.
“You have me. You always have,” he says hoarsely, kissing me again, breathless now, a frenzy between us that’s growing and growing.
I unzip his jeans, greedy, frantic. Slip my hand down the waistband of his boxer briefs, slide my palm over the wide, thick girth of him.
Holy. Shit.
Luciano growls as I give him a squeeze, feeling him hot and silky and throbbing against my palm, my grasp small against his width. A rush of power flows through me, to know that I did this to him, that I can bring him this much pleasure.
I grip him tighter, just to hear that rough moan again.
“Fuck,” he swears as he pulls back, reaching down to tug my tank top off my head, his stubble scratchy against the skin along my neck as he bites and licks and reaches back to unhook my bra.
He throws my shirt and bra to the floor, and there I am, topless in front of him.
He stares at my chest for a long moment, licking his lips, breathing hard, like he’s the luckiest son of a bitch alive.
“You’re a fucking angel,” he says to me, meeting my eyes with a carnal gaze. The raw lust in his voice makes me so wet that I’m clenching. “But I’m going to fuck you like the devil.”
My mouth parts in shock, my pulse hammering in my veins. I didn’t take Luciano to be such a bold talker, but I am here for it.
He steps back, takes his shirt off, tossing it to the side. He pushes his boxer briefs and his jeans down to the floor, stepping out of them, then…
Fucking hell.
I didn’t expect him to look like such a perfect fucking specimen of a man, either.
From his wide shoulders, to his hard, sculpted chest with just a bit of chest hair, to his six-pack abs and that hard ridge along his hips, he’s got the upper body of an Adonis. Then his legs, strong-as-fuck quads, and that extremely impressive cock standing at attention, and he’s the most devastatingly beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
And for tonight, he’s mine.
He’s finally mine.
“Get on your feet,” he says, reaching down and running a fist over his dick.
I stare for a moment as I feel need run through me so fast and strong it nearly gives me whiplash.
I get on my feet, placing my hand on the counter to steady myself.
Then he’s on me, cupping my face in his palms, kissing me with urgency, his lips strong and soft, while his cock presses against the front of me, hard as steel. He bends down, cupping my breasts, squeezing, licking them until my head goes back and my eyes pinch shut.
“Oh god,” I say softly, practically whimpering as my desire gets kicked up to the next level and suddenly I’m fucking insatiable. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, his tongue prodding and teasing, and I swear I’m going to come right here and now just from that.
Fucking hell, I don’t even know my name anymore.
But he reminds me.
“Ruby girl,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you.” He slides his hands down my waist. They wrap around me and then the next thing I know, he’s picking me up and placing me on the counter. “Never, never. Nunca.”
Fingers tuck in around the waist of my skirt and he pulls it down over my hips, my body adjusting to let the fabric pass over me. Now I’m nearly naked and sitting in front of him, in only my lacey underwear in the same burgundy color as my discarded bra. He places his large, hot palm against my soft thighs and pushes them apart.
His eyes are glued to me. They move from my underwear, to my breasts, up to my mouth, my eyes. The fire inside him is simmering, there’s a look of disbelief. Like he can’t believe this is happening.
But I can.
I can because right now, this feels more right than anything else has in the last few months. This moment right now feels like the moment that everything else has been leading up to.
The moment before.
Before everything changes.
Before I finally get what I want.
Before I know what it feels like to have this man inside me.
I’ve waited long enough.
I reach down and slip my fingers into my underwear. I start playing with myself, sliding over my swollen clit, impressed at how drenched I am. Then again, how could I not be?
I watch him. I watch him watching me. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thick throat, jaw clenched. His eyes gleam. “Have you ever touched yourself and thought of me?” he asks, holding my gaze. God, his fucking voice hits me stronger than the scotch did.
&nbs
p; “Yes,” I whisper.
“Where?”
“At night. When everyone was asleep.”
He bites his lip, his breath hitching. “You had to be quiet.”
“Yes.” I close my eyes, my finger slipping inside me.
“I don’t want you to be quiet.”
I smile lazily. Open my eyes to look at him. “I won’t be.”
His brows raise, then he nods at my hand. “Stop.”
I stop, bringing my hand out from my underwear.
He grabs my wrist, brings it up to his mouth. Sticks my finger in his mouth and sucks on it, tongue licking up the side.
Holy fuck that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’re exquisite,” he murmurs, leaning in to place a hot, searing kiss on my lips. I taste myself too, groaning into his mouth. His hand slips between my legs, pushing my underwear to the side, and then I feel the rough stroke of his fingers.
Shit.
I’m already so turned on I’m afraid I’m going to come on his hand.
“Yes,” he whispers to me, then says something I don’t understand in Portuguese. Whatever it is, it sounded sexy, especially as he starts to fuck me with more of his fingers, moving in and out, deeper, and curving against me. The wet sound is very loud in the quiet apartment, and almost vulgar.
“Luciano,” I manage to say, my hands going to his hair, fingers wrapping around his silky waves. Even his fucking hair makes me want to come. “I…”
He cuts me off. “I’m going to fuck you with every part of me. Fingers, cock, mouth. Make you come so many times you’re not going to be able to walk for days. We have tonight, I’m using every minute of it.”
And with that, his thumb presses and swirls down on my clit, fast and slippery, and I know I can’t hold back.
I cry out sharply, tugging on his hair as the orgasm rolls down my spine and obliterates me. I buck against his fingers, nearly lifting off the table, while he keeps his eyes locked on mine, watching as I come so hard I’m rendered boneless, my blood feeling like smoke.
“Oh my god,” I say through a moan, my words floating to the ceiling along with the rest of me. My body won’t stop shaking, everything inside me feels liquid, Luciano’s eyes become a swirling galaxy that I’m pinballing around in.
I don’t know when the world starts to slide back into place, but I know my hands have cramped from pulling Luciano’s hair so hard.
The One That Got Away: A Novel Page 13
