Chapter 242 Chapter 242.

Chapter 242 Chapter 242.
Isabella. 

Luca pushed the office door open and guided me inside, his hand still resting firmly at the small of my back like he was not ready to let me go just yet. The door clicked shut behind us, cutting off the outside noise completely, leaving just the quiet hum of the room and the sound of our breathing settling into something slower.

He paused..

Then he inhaled deeply, his brows pulling together just slightly as if he was searching for something that was no longer there.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get to taste your food,” he said, his voice softer than I expected, almost regretful in a way that made my chest tighten unexpectedly. “You made risotto for me....and I haven’t even had it in ages.”

I watched him for a second, the sincerity in his tone catching me off guard more than I wanted to admit.

“It’s fine,” I said gently, even though it had not felt fine earlier. “I can make it again.”

I hesitated just slightly, then added with a small breath, “Just....not anytime soon.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, something patient and calm settling into his expression.

“And that’s fine,” he replied. “I’ll wait. I’ll earn it properly this time.”

Before I could respond, his hands moved, steady and certain as he lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing at all. A soft gasp escaped me out of instinct, my fingers immediately gripping his shoulders as he carried me further into the room.

“Luca...." I murmured, though there was no real protest in my voice.

He did not answer.

He just walked straight to the bed and placed me down carefully, like I was something fragile he did not want to mishandle. His hands lingered for a second longer than necessary before he stepped back slightly.

And then he looked at me.

Properly.

From head to toe.

Slowly.

There was something in his gaze that made my stomach tighten, something intense but not harsh, something that felt like he was seeing me in a way he had been holding back for days.

“You are wearing my clothes,” he said quietly.

I glanced down briefly at the oversized hoodie and the shorts, then back at him.

“Yeah,” I said, a small smile forming despite everything.

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving just a little.

“You look....” he paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. “You look really pretty in them.”

My smile softened.

“Thank you.”

I reached out without thinking, my fingers brushing against his cheek, the contact grounding me in a way I had been needing since I walked in earlier.

“Luca,” I said gently, my voice quieter now, more careful. “Can you stop giving me mixed signals?”

His eyes flickered slightly at that.

“Are we.....actually okay now?” I continued, my heart picking up just a little faster. “Have you forgiven me?”

He let out a low chuckle, not mocking, not dismissive, just.....thoughtful.

“What do you think, baby?”

I swallowed.

I hated that question.

Because it meant guessing.

And guessing meant risking.

“I think you have,” I admitted slowly, my fingers curling slightly against his shirt. “But I don’t want to assume. I don’t want to get comfortable and then realize I was wrong again.”

My voice softened even more.

“Just tell me the truth. Please.”

For a second, he just looked at me.

His hand moved as he pulled down my shorts and panties. 

“Luca...." I started, my voice coming out softer than I intended. “What are you doing?”

He looked at me, completely unbothered, his expression calm but heated underneath.

“Having what’s mine,” he replied quietly.

My pulse spiked instantly, my fingers tightening against the sheets as a wave of warmth rushed through me, catching me completely off guard.

“Luca...." I said again, this time more breathless, more uncertain, my emotions tangling together in a way I could not fully control.

His forehead brushed lightly against mine, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He leaned in, and his first kiss wasn’t on my lips. It was on my inner thigh, just above the knee. A soft, deliberate press of his lips against my skin. 

I gasped, my fingers curling into the sheets beside me. 

He did it again, higher, his mouth leaving a trail of warmth that seemed to seep straight into my blood. 

My legs fell open wider, a silent, pleading invitation.

His hands settled on my hips, holding me firm against the bed’s edge. Then he looked up at me, his face inches from where I desperately wanted him to be. 

“You are so beautiful here,” he said, his voice rough. “All for me.”

I could only nod, a weak, helpless motion. The anticipation was a physical thing, coiled tight in my belly, fluttering wildly. He didn’t tease me for long. With one last, burning look, he lowered his head.

The first touch of his tongue was magical.

It was a claim. 

A slow, firm, deliberate stroke from bottom to top, parting me, tasting me. I cried out, a sharp sound that echoed in the quiet room. My hips jerked, but his hands held me down.

“Luca..." I breathed, his name becoming a prayer, a curse, a plea.

He hummed against me, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated through my most sensitive flesh. Then he began to move. Not with frantic haste, but with a devastating, focused patience. 

His tongue traced circles around my clit, then flattened against it, applying a perfect pressure that made my vision blur. Every nerve in my body screamed. 

He licked, he stroked, he explored every fold and curve with a thoroughness that felt both worshipful and utterly possessive.

I was melting into the bed, into his hands, into the building pleasure. My moans weren’t quiet or controlled. They were loud, ragged things, torn from my throat without my consent. 

Each one seemed to spur him on. He shifted his angle, sinking lower, and his tongue delved deeper, fucking into me with slow, penetrating thrusts that mimicked a rhythm I could already feel craving completion.

“Oh God....right there....please, don’t stop...." The words spilled out, incoherent, desperate.

He didn’t stop. One of his hands left my hip and slid up my stomach, under my hoodie, which was now bunched around my waist. His palm was hot against my belly, then his fingers found my breast, cupping it through the fabric, his thumb brushing over my nipple. 

The dual assault was too much. I arched off the bed, my back straining.

He paused then, lifting his head just enough to look at me. His mouth was glistening. “You like that?” he asked, his voice a dark, teasing growl.

“Yes,” I whimpered, “yes, more...."