Bittersweet (The Calvettis of New York 4) - Page 39

His gaze finally trails up until it meets mine. “I’m sorry, Afton.”

Guilt. I see it swimming in his eyes.

He has to be talking about the kiss, but I ask just to be sure. “For what?”

Closing the door behind him, he sighs. “I sensed that you wanted Porter to back the hell off. I should have let you handle it. I had no right to jump in the middle of that and kiss you. I wasn’t thinking. It just happened.”

“You regret it.” It comes out as more of an accusation than a question.

“No,” he blurts out. “Fuck, no. Do you?”

“Fuck, no,” I whisper.

The only indication that he’s amused with my response is the slight curl of the corners of his lips. His gaze catches mine. “That was some kiss, Afton.”

“It was.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His question catches me off-guard. I thought we’d laugh about it, and then the kiss would be stored away in my memory bank forever.

I assumed that Luke kissed me to get Porter to back off. I didn’t expect him to admit that he liked it.

I think that’s what he meant when he said it was ‘ some kiss .’

Realizing that I may have jumped to the wrong conclusion, I take a deep breath as I set off toward the kitchen. “I’m thirsty. Do you want some water? I can make coffee. Is it too late for coffee?”

“Afton.” He steps around me, blocking my path.

He stops before he says another word, so I turn my gaze up to his face, and I see what’s unspoken. I see the desire in his eyes.

“Luke,” I whisper.

“I don’t want water.” He narrows the space between us with a large step. “Or coffee.”

“What do you want?” I ask in a voice that is so soft I have to strain to hear it myself.

Without a moment of hesitation, he cups his large hand around the back of my neck. “You.”

There are countless questions perched on my lips, but I brush them all aside and tilt my chin up. “I want you too.”

This time his kiss isn’t tentative or tender. When his tongue parts my lips, there’s a rush for something – maybe it’s need driving it or pure raw lust.

I don’t care. I reach up to cup his face in my hands as we deepen the kiss. Our tongues search for more. Our moans melt together, and when his hand glides down my back toward my ass, I lean into him.

He spins me around, so he’s in control of our destination.

I know where he wants to go, and I’m all in.

I want him. I want to feel him everywhere. I want to experience him in the most intimate ways.

“Afton,” he breathes my name in a groan. “Your bedroom.”

I nod because the words won’t come. I can’t speak. I can only feel.

He takes a step forward, and I follow with a step backward. I trust him to lead me through my darkened home to my bed, our bed for the night.

Just as he moves again, a noise stops us both in place.

This time it’s not a smoke alarm. Neither of our phones is ringing.

It’s the soft sound of keys rattling before my front door creaks open, and Joel appears wearing a pair of light green pajamas.

“Oh, shit,” escapes him when he sees us clinging to each other. “I fucked this up, didn’t I?”

Chapter 28

Afton

Luke lets out a low chuckle when he catches the expression on Joel’s face. It’s a mix of confusion and curiosity.

I’ve never minded the unannounced visits to my apartment since Joel and Nelson own it.

“I’ll go,” Joel announces loudly.

“No.” Luke’s hands drift from me. “Stay.”

I glance over to catch him staring at me before I level my gaze on my brother-in-law. “Joel can go.”

“I can go,” Joel reiterates with a nod of his head. “I snuck down to grab some bread. Nelson said he smelled cinnamon raisin bread this morning. You know that’s my all-time favorite.”

Last week the focaccia I baked was his ‘ all-time favorite,’ and a few weeks ago, it was a loaf of rye bread.

Joel pats his rock-hard stomach through his pajama top. “I don’t need it. Carbs aren’t my friend.”

Luke laughs. “I doubt like hell carbs are your enemy. You look like you hit the gym a few times a week. Life is short so eat the bread.”

A wide smile slides over Joel’s lips. “Spoken like the grandchild of Martina Calvetti.”

Luke shrugs. “What can I say? Bread is a staple I can’t live without.”

I hold in a deep sigh. A few minutes ago, I was destined for what probably would have been the most mind-blowing sex of my life. Now, I’m standing between two men who are talking about bread.

Maybe I already fell asleep, and this is a hunger-fueled nightmare.

I pinch the inside of my elbow.

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Calvettis of New York Romance
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