Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Mavis.”
Luca blinks. “Mavis?”
My nod is shaky and embarrassed. “I didn’t name her. She named herself,” I deadpan. “She came to me one night during a particularly bad date and said, ‘Girl, don’t do this. He still lives with his mom and called you bro twice.’”
“You just keep getting better and better.”
“Mavis doesn’t trust easily,” I warn, struggling not to smile. “She’s seen some things.”
He stares at me for a long moment, lips twitching. “I think I’m in love with your ghost.”
I swallow.
Luca leans in again, closer than before, his grin fading into something deeper. His voice drops low, rich with amusement and curiosity and… something else. Something that makes the space between us throb like a pulse.
“What do I have to do to win her over?”
Oh jeez.
Is it hot in here?
My laugh dies halfway in my throat. “I—uh—”
“Because I’d really like her on my side,” he adds, his hand landing lightly on the counter beside my hip. “If I want to stay in your good graces.”
Everything inside me is too loud—my heartbeat, my breath, my thoughts, Mavis screaming from the void like, LET HIM TRY, YOU THIRSTY BITCH.
His eyes flick to my lips. “I can be honest.”
Oh no.
“And I’m willing to put in the effort,” he adds, voice like velvet wrapping around my spine.
Oh no.
“Effort?” I gulp for air. “How?”
His head shakes slowly. “Nuh uh. I can’t tell you. I have to show you.”
Mavis shrieks. Not quietly. She’s full-on rattling chains and slamming ghost doors in my uterus right now and for the love of God, why do I keep referring to my cooch as a ghost?!
What the hell is happening to me?!
“You should know I’m emotionally available,” he deadpans, doing his best to sell me on himself.
Too late.
I’m already sold.
“Oh wow.” My short laugh is nervous. “Irresistible.”
“I should have led with that sooner.”
Luca is all good things.
I raise my hand to his chest, sliding it down slowly. Deliberately.
“Mavis says...”
“Yeah?”
“…If you’re going to flirt with ghosts, you better learn how to exorcise one.”
Luca blinks once.
Hesitates.
Then he laughs—a low, wicked laugh, white teeth sparkling against his tan skin. “That might be the hottest sentence I’ve ever heard.”
Poor thing.
“I have layers,” I say, barely able to keep my voice and hands from trembling. “I have lore.”
His palm comes to rest on my waist, fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, making contact with my skin.
I shiver.
“Do I get to meet Mavis properly?” he asks, leaning in, lips hovering over my jaw. “Hmm?”
What is he asking?
What is he saying?
Does he mean he wants to…what?
Touch me?
Taste me?
My thoughts spiral in seventeen directions at once, not a single one of them helpful or appropriate.
His nose brushes the curve of my jaw, and I swear I can feel my bones melt. “I’m just saying…” he murmurs, voice molten. “You should let me kiss her to say hello.”
13
luca
Iscoop her up.
Of course I fucking do.
She’s five-foot-nothing of stubborn pride and bad decision making disguised as confidence, wobbling like a baby deer in the middle of her kitchen all in the name of pretending she’s totally unaffected by me.
Spoiler: she is very affected.
So yeah—I scoop her up like a damn boss. Bridal style. Hero mode. Zero hesitation.
I AM MAN, HERE ME ROAR.
“Put me down!” She gasps, one arm flying automatically around my neck to tether herself. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you. Obviously.”
“I have legs.”
“Not working ones.”
She glares—but it’s weak. Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt like maybe she’s thinking about protesting, or maybe she just wants to grab a little chest on the way.
“I could do squats with you.”
“Please don’t.”
Grinning, our walk down her hallway is quiet.
Nothing but the creak of the hardwood beneath my feet and her breath fanning over my collarbone. I know where her room is. She pointed it out during that rinky-dink pity tour she gave me while trying to keep her hands to herself. Now I’m nudging the door open with my foot, stepping inside, and doing a quick scan.
Dang.
This room is her.
It smells like the same lemons from the kitchen and clean laundry.
The bed is unmade, but not messy—white linen sheets and comforter in a heap. A stack of books on the nightstand. A water glass. Cold medicine. Box of tissues.
Pair of fuzzy socks on the floor, like she peeled off in a hurry and forgot about them.
I love it here already.
I step closer to the bed and set her down carefully on the edge, like she’s breakable—even though we both know she’s probably stronger than me. She lands with a bounce and immediately tries to cross her legs like she’s not being swept off her feet in every possible way.
She brushes her hair out of her face, cheeks pink, breathing heavy, looking up at me like she’s trying to stay in control of this moment.
Cute.
I drop to my knees in front of her.