‘So, I sleptherelast night?’
His lips twitched, apparently amused by my case of temporary amnesia. A bead of water fell from his hair, running over his collarbone, down to somewhere I didn’t dare look.
‘Evidently.’
‘And – you also slept here last night?’
His smile broadened as he crossed his arms over his chest. His bulging biceps didn’t make the whole maintaining eye contact thing any easier.
‘Do you not remember what happened last night?’
‘Of course I do,’ I lied.
‘Oh, really?’ He took a step towards me, a lion stalking its prey. ‘So, you remember giving Shania Twain a run for her money last night?’
I closed my eyes, an awful flashback of me centre stage, riding the microphone stand like I was coming up the home straight at the Grand National, making me cringe with embarrassment.
‘Mhmm.’
He took another step forward. ‘And then falling off the stage?’
I raised a hand to my temple. So that’s why my head was throbbing so badly. ‘Yes,’ I said tightly.
The floorboards creaked as he advanced some more. ‘And turning up at my front door at 1 a.m.?’
I could feel Luca’s eyes scanning my face, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip. He was testing me.
‘Yep.’
He took one final step forward. We were close now. So close that I could smell his shower gel. It smelt of bergamot and sea salt.
‘And what happened after? Do you remember that, Thompson?’
My cheeks were burning, my brain desperately trying to filter through memories of tequila slammers and – did I get on top of the bar at one point? – to find any recollection of how the night ended.
I swallowed. ‘Did we—?’
Luca just stared at me, his gaze heavy beneath his lashes. His brow had knitted together, slightly upturned in the middle in what anyone else would presume was innocent curiosity, not the calculated torture I knew it to be. The fucker was actually going to make me say it.
‘Did we sleep together last night?’ I blurted out, screwing my eyes tightly shut as I braced myself for his response. I sensed him lean in, the hairs on my arms standing to attention, his hot breath chasing goosebumps up the side of my neck.
‘Trust me, if we’d had sex, that’s not something you’d forget any time soon.’ His voice was thick and husky, full of unequivocal promise and something darker. Something that made me gasp before I could stop myself, eyes flying open to see Luca’s own pupils swirling hot and fiery, his jaw set in a serious line before it dissolved into a winning smile. I resisted the urge to punch him.
‘I found you outside the building when I got home last night.’ He snorted, finally taking a step back. ‘You were pretty wasted, convinced that you still lived here with your boyfriend. Joe, is it?’
My stomach lurched at the sound of Joe’s name in Luca’s mouth, and I clamped my lips together, afraid I was going to vomit. I nodded; that was about all I could manage.
‘Anyway, you kept insisting that I let you in.Demanded, actually. Categorically refused to leave until I opened the door.’
I grimaced, a hazy memory of me leaning unsteadily against the red brick wall, my hands clasped in front of my chest.
‘Did I beg at one point?’
Luca laughed, confirming my worst fear.
‘Seeing as I didn’t want to spend the whole night freezing my nuts off on the front doorstep, I let you in.’ A flash of me dodging American football-style around Luca in my childish haste to get through the door before him, and then falling ass over tit in the hallway, no doubt flashing him my M&S pants in the process, made me want to hide my face in my hands. ‘I thought a cup of coffee would sober you up enough to get you in a taxi, but the next thing I knew you’d passed out on my bed, snoring your head off.’
‘I don’t snore,’ I mumbled petulantly, trying to ignore the proffered cup of coffee that Luca pushed across the kitchen counter towards me. But my need for caffeine was far greater than my principles right now, and I took a sip, ignoring Luca’s crooked smile that told me he’d just earned another point on the scoreboard he kept in his head.
