Starter Wife (The Jilted Wives Club Book 1) by Bethany Lopez (readera ebook reader TXT) 📗

yes. Not because I wanted to liquor her up, but because I didn’t want her to feel like she needed to eat and run. I was hoping she stay and hang out a while even after dinner was over.

When Whitney said, “Yes, please,” I let out the breath I’d been holding and gave her a relieved smile.

Fifteen

Whitney

I eased down into Luca’s surprisingly comfy couch with a sigh.

“Dinner was amazing,” I gushed, probably for the third time because, seriously, the food had been incredible.

I’d never had tiramisu ice cream before but now it was one of my favorite things ever.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Luca said as he sat down next to me.

His apartment was really nice, as I’d expected it would be, but rather than feeling pretentious, it was quite welcoming and homey. It was the opposite of my house, with its lifetime of kids’ arts and crafts and knickknacks that had been purchased and forgotten.

You could tell everything had been placed with intention, but also that everything had a use … a purpose.

“There’s no way I could eat like that every day, but I’m sure happy I ate it today,” I said, stifling a groan and the urge to unbutton my jeans.

Luca chuckled. “There’s a reason Char, Vanni and I were on the larger side growing up. My ma didn’t believe in portion control when we were kids. She was of the feed them until they’re full to bursting school of thought.”

“My mother wasn’t a cook, so we ate a lot of TV dinners and boxed dinners when I was a kid. If it ended in Roni or Helper, it was going on our table.”

“You know I’ve never eaten any of that?” he said, gently swirling the wine in his glass.

“Eaten what? A meal from a box or freezer?” I asked, disbelievingly. Seriously, I would have starved as a child without those things.

“Nope. No Chef Boyardee or Kraft macaroni either.”

“Not even when you went to a friend’s house?”

Luca shook his head.

“Most of the kids on my block grew up in the same kind of house I did, with their mom spending her days in the kitchen cooking all three meals, and their dads going off to work. Old school, traditional, whatever you want to call it … it’s just the way it was.”

“Huh,” I said. “I mean, even with my kids … I didn’t work outside of the home, but with all of the volunteering, school sports and functions, I was lucky to get dinner on the table most nights.”

“I’d see kids bring paper bags with sandwiches and Ziplock bags with chips and I’d be eating leftover pasta or lamb,” Luca said, a small smile playing on his lips at the memory. “I did try this boy Kevin’s bologna sandwich one time.”

“What did you think?”

“It was disgusting,” he said with a grimace and we both laughed.

“Yeah, I’ve never been a fan. Of bologna or any type of wurst or loaf.”

I shuddered at the thought.

Luca’s eyes were on me, his expression one of humor and something else. Something that made my blood heat and nipples harden.

He looked so handsome sitting there, totally comfortable in his own space, obviously enjoying spending the evening with me.

“It’s funny. I never imagined I’d be here after talking to you by the jukebox,” I told him, inching a little closer.

“I hoped,” he said, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Hmmm,” I murmured, willing my eyes not to glance down and check him out to see if Summer was right.

Luca leaned forward to place his glass on the table before reaching for my hand and saying, “Come here.”

“You want to watch a movie?” I asked, letting him pull me so I was right next to him.

“Watch a movie and make out?” he asked, arching one eyebrow playfully.

I laughed nervously and asked, “Can we stick to just making out? I’d love to kiss you, but I’m not ready to go any further.”

My breath caught as I waited for his reply.

“I’ll happily just make out with you, for as long as you’d like.”

Suddenly nervous, my tongue darted out to wet my lips and I wondered if I was supposed to make the first move or if he would, when Luca gave my arm a tug and I fell forward with a squeal.

In a move that would make any lothario proud, I went from sitting next to Luca to being flat on my back with him sprawled half on top of me, without even knowing how I got there.

Before I could verbalize a response, his mouth was on mine and I no longer had the ability to speak.

Somehow it was better than the elevator. Maybe it was the full-body contact or the fact that his apartment smelled of Italian food and bamboo, which was comforting and an aphrodisiac apparently.

While his lips tantalized, I moved my hands to explore his back, first over his shirt, and then, unable to help myself, underneath. His skin was silky soft and warm. I arched against him when his lips moved from my mouth to the tender spot just under my chin.

“Luca,” I moaned as my libido went from zero to one hundred.

My senses flooded with the scent, feel, and taste of him as I searched greedily for any expanse of skin I could find. I dug my fingers into his back as my teeth sunk into the meat of his shoulder and I wanted nothing more than to rub myself against him as my body began to burn.

“Whoa,” Luca whispered, like he was talking to a startled horse, and I realized I’d once again ignited like a match when he’d barely touched me.

I tucked my chin, mortified, and said, “Sorry.”

“Hey,” he murmured gently. “You never have to apologize to me. I want you so bad right now I’m shaking and the fact that you enjoy my touch as much as I enjoy yours is an incredible turn-on. I love it.”

“You do?” I asked, chancing a glance at him.

The look on his face