CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

Jules

 

LUCA OPENS THE BACK door to Ink Me, and I step inside. Looking around, I take this to be a small break area. On one side there’s a small two-seater table against a wall. Across from that, on the other wall, there’s a fridge and a counter with upper and lower cabinets. The counter holds a microwave, a coffeepot, and a few other things.

I turn back to Luca when I hear the door close. When he mentioned this morning he had to go to work, anxiety was my first reaction. I didn’t want to be left alone, worrying the entire time if Theo was going to show up. I also just didn’t want to be alone, period. But it was more than that. I wanted to be where Luca was. He not only makes me feel safe, but so much more. I feel comfortable around him, and warm, and desired like a woman should feel. Not the creepy way that sends terrifying shivers down my body. Not the way Theo makes me feel. I hesitate with my thoughts, not wanting to get ahead of myself or stupidly give myself hope, but Luca makes me feel loved. There’s no reason or rhyme for it, but it’s there anyway.

“You can set your purse there.” He points to the table. “No one comes back here except employees, and it’ll just be us and Ella later.”

I nod and set my purse down. He leaves the room, and I follow him down a hallway. There are several doors on either side of the hallway. I peek inside each one and gather these are the rooms where he does tattoos. There are work benches and those big red metal tool boxes and chairs that look like ones you see in dentist offices.

When we walk into an open area with two long counters, a couple of leather couches and chairs, and the walls filled with pictures of tattoos and drawings, I come to a stop. Dizziness captures me, and I’m forced to grab on to the wall to hold myself up. I close my eyes and pull in several big lungful’s of air, trying to push the dizziness away.

“Jules?” Luca’s concerned voice has me opening my eyes. He’s standing in front of me, bent at the knees so we’re eye level, his beautiful blue eyes watching me worriedly. “Are you okay?”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling like I swallowed cotton balls. “Yes.” My voice comes out scratchy. “A wave of dizziness just hit me.”

His expression turns troubled. “Come on. You need to sit.”

When he grabs my hand to lead me to one of the couches, an electrical wave zaps me. I feel his hesitation, so I know he felt it too. Just as we’re walking out from behind the counter, I pull him to a stop.

“Wait,” I tell him, and he turns to me. “I’m fine now.”

His eyes search mine. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I want to snatch his hand back in mine when he releases me, but I refrain from doing so. He steps to the side, but I still feel his eyes on me as I look around the room. I move to the left and look inside the glass cases.

“You do piercings as well?” I ask as I look at all the different kinds of jewelry.

“I don’t, but Ella does.”

“Oh.”

I move along the counter until I reach the end, then start looking at the frames on the wall. Some of the pictures are ones of actual tattoos and some are drawings. I knew Luca had to be good because of his profession, but I didn’t realize just how good.

I come to a stop when a strong sense of déjà vu hits me. It takes me a minute to catch my breath because the feeling is so strong.

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” I murmur with a frown. I turn back to the counter, still expecting to see Luca behind it, but I’m surprised to see him standing only a few feet from me, staring at me watchfully. “I’ve been here before.” Somehow, I know it’s the truth.

“Yes.”

My brows drop further. “But how do you know?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, his own frown forming between his eyes.

“I didn’t until last night. I had a dream of you coming in the shop, but I wasn’t sure if it was real or my imagination. With you saying you felt like you’ve been here, along with my dream, I’d say it’s probably true.”

I nod, agreeing with him. “And you don’t remember?”

“No.” I can tell he wants to say more. “You were with a girl named Nicole. You both came in to get a tattoo. It was a graduation present to yourselves. It was only your friend that ended up getting one. Or I assume so. I woke from my dream too soon to know for sure. It had to have been before you met Theo because you didn’t recognize me, and we looked more alike back then than we do now. But it couldn’t have been too soon before because I only lost six weeks.”

At his mention of Nicole, an image of a short blonde girl from school comes to mind. We had hung out a few times, but not often. She had more of a wild streak, and I was shy. I briefly remember us talking about tattoos once. When I mentioned to her that I had always wanted to get one, she was surprised, saying I must have an inner wild child inside me wanting to break free.

The tattoo on my side prickles. I purse my lips, a possibility coming to mind. Luca’s eyes never leave mine as I turn to the side and lift my shirt to just below my breasts. Heat creeps up my cheeks, but I determinedly don’t let it stop me.

“Does this look familiar?”

I feel a tingle of awareness as his eyes drift down me, as if in a soft caress. When his gaze lands on my tattoo, they narrow. I’m surprised when he drops to his knees at my side, then suck in a sharp breath when the tips of his fingers graze the skin. His eyes briefly flicker to mine before moving back to the tattoo.

“It’s beautiful work,” he comments. Goose bumps appear when he doesn’t move his fingers away and instead continues to examine the heart. He’s so close that I feel the heat from his breath. “I don’t know if it’s mine or not, but I’ve seen it before.” When he lifts his gaze back to me, there’s a crease in his brow “I’ve had visions of it. The full image didn’t come to me until a couple nights ago.”

“I don’t understand. What could all this mean? Theo said I got it to signify our love.”

His jaw tics at that revelation. I don’t know if he realizes what he’s doing, but his thumb is rubbing back and forth right above the tattoo. Shivers race up my spine when he looks back at it and his eyes darken. Feelings I’ve never felt before assail me, and I don’t know what to do with them. Years ago, before my coma, I had been only mildly curious about sex, focusing more on school than looking for any type of sexual relationship. I had kissed guys before and one even made it to second base, but I had never been tempted to go all the way.

Now though, with Luca kneeling beside me, just his hands on my sides, I’m feeling more than I ever had before. I want his hands on me. I want his hands to wander and explore more of me.

All too soon, he takes the shirt from my hand and pulls it back down. I immediately miss his warmth. The disappointment fades when he stands close. Now it’s his scent that surrounds me. His stunning blue eyes stare down at me, and I know I could get lost in them so easily.

“I don’t know what it means,” he says softly. “But something tells me there’s more going on than what we both think.”

It takes me a moment to fully understand what he’s saying. All I can think about is the unexpected way he makes me feel. I blink several times and push the foggy haze of being so close to him away.

I open my mouth to ask what he means, but a noise from the back interrupts me. Luca turns and we both look toward the hallway to see Ella coming toward us, her head bent as she looks at her phone.

Without looking up, she says, “Luca, Mom wants you to—” She comes to a halt when she sees Luca and me standing in the middle of the waiting area. “Oh, hi, Jules.”

My stomach is still fluttering crazily, but I manage a smile. “Hey.”

There’s questions in her eyes when she directs them to Luca.

“What are you doing here so early? You weren’t supposed to be here until two,” Luca asks, stepping away from me.

She looks at me then back to Luca before replying. “Sam called and asked if I could fit him in today. I told him I’d come in a couple hours early.”

“Bet Vicki didn’t like that much,” he remarks, a smirk tilting his lips up.

She rolls her eyes. “You’d bet right. She hates giving up any of our weekend hours.”

It turns quiet, and I shift uncomfortably on my feet. Ella’s eyes keep returning to me, and each time they do, I want to fidget. I know she must be wondering why I’m here. I don’t know if Luca called her yesterday when he called his parents, and if he did, what he told her.

“Jules is going to hang out today,” Luca says, breaking the awkward silence.

“Okay.” A twinkle enters her eyes. “You can watch Luca and me kick ass on the needle.”

I laugh, glad the uncomfortable moment is over. I’m looking forward to seeing the ins and outs of tattooing. I’m especially anxious to see Luca while he works.

She looks at Luca. “Mom wants you to call her. Said she needed to talk to you about Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll go do that now.”

As he walks away, leaving Ella and me alone, she comes closer, concern lighting her eyes.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

I don’t know if I’m ready to tell her what Theo did. The thought of her not believing me or casting blame my way makes me leery on being completely truthful. I wouldn’t blame her. She doesn’t know me that well. Why would she believe me over her brother? It still surprises me that Luca believed me. However, I can’t outright lie. Whether or not Ella looks at me as a friend, I think of her as such, and I really don’t want to lie to her.

“I’m fine.” I look down and force my fingers to stop twisting together. Lifting my head, I give her what I can at the moment. “Theo and I had an argument, and I needed to get away.”

Her eyes narrow, and I have no doubt she knows there’s more to the story. Luckily, she doesn’t press me, just offers instead, “If you need to talk, I hope you know you can call me.”

I smile, grateful for her offer. My memories of before my coma consisted of a family I could count on when I needed them. They may not have been the perfect family, but they were mine. I woke up from my coma with no one except a strange man who calls himself my husband and has tried to force himself on me twice. I’ve felt both scared and lost the last several weeks. My only saving grace has been Aria, and Ella the couple times she’s stopped by or taken me to my doctor’s appointment. And now Luca.

With that thought in mind and Ella’s reassuring words, I wonder… maybe I’m not as alone as I thought.

 

 

THE BUZZING OF THE tattoo machine is quieter and more soothing than I thought it would be. But it’s the complete and utter concentration on Luca’s face as he tattoos the guy named Garrett in front of him that captivates me. I never knew watching someone work could be so mesmerizing. This is Luca in his element. I don’t have to know him that well to sense this. He loves what he does. You can see it in the attention he gives the design he’s working on.

There’s low music playing in the background, and I wonder if that helps his concentration. He and the guy have spoken periodically, but even so, you can tell his focus is meticulously on his work.

The shop’s been open several hours, but this is the first time I’ve been able to watch Luca work. I sat with Ella with her first client. Her skills are almost as good as Luca’s, but she’s more vocal while tattooing, opting to joke and laugh with her client or sing to the music she had going in the background.

While Ella finished up her client, Luca ordered pizza for lunch. All three of us sat on the couches in the waiting room to eat, Ella saying they were more comfortable than the chairs in the break room. Several people came in to inquire about tattoos and they took turns answering questions or setting up appointments. I noticed the phone rang quite a bit, so after lunch, I offered to play secretary for a while. When one of Luca’s regulars came in, he asked if I wanted to come to the back to watch. I jumped at the opportunity, anxious to see him work.

The buzzing stops, and after wiping the design with a napkin that’s already half saturated with ink, he sits up from his hunched over position. Both of his hands are midair as he looks over the art he created.

Sitting up straighter on the stool I’m on, I try to take a better look. Luca’s eyes lift to mine.

“Come look.”

I get up from the stool and walk over until I’m standing beside him. The man lying on the chair that’s laid down as a bed has his head turned toward Luca, and his eyes lift to mine. He’s been so quiet the last thirty minutes I thought he had fallen asleep. Although I don’t see how anyone could fall asleep while there’s a needle repeatedly being stabbed at them. But then, looking at the guy and seeing most of his back is already covered, I’m sure he’s used to the bite of the needle.

“Whatcha think?” Luca asks. I look down at him then back at the tattoo.

“I think it looks amazing.” I state the truth.

The guy is obviously following an Alice in Wonderland theme. He has a Cheshire cat, the hookah-smoking caterpillar, a vial with the words “Drink Me” written on a tag, Alice, and the Queen of Hearts. Luca just added a pocket watch with a cracked face and the words “Time for Tea.”

I’m pleased when I see Luca smile at me, as if pleased with my praise. For some reason, it warms my heart that my opinion seems to matter to him. He tosses the used napkin in the trash and grabs a fresh one, then sprays something on the design and starts wiping it again.

I look down at the guy, who looks to be in his early to mid-forties. “What are you going to have done next?”

“The rabbit. After that will come the Mad Hatter.”

“I take it you like Alice in Wonderland,” I assert with a laugh.

“My kid does. She’s twenty, but still loves the movie. The new one more so than the old one. I’ve been working to cover my back for five years. The wife will only let me get one or two a year.”

“Whoa, whoa.” I hold my hand up. “The new one?” I ask, confused. I look to Luca. “They remade Alice in Wonderland? But it’s a classic. You can’t remake a classic.”

He chuckles as he finishes cleaning the tattoo then starts swiping on some ointment. “Most of the time they can’t, but I think they did a pretty good job with this one. Johnny Depp did a kickass job of playing the Mad Hatter.”

“Johnny Depp played the Mad Hatter?” I think for a moment. “I can see how he would make a good crazy person,” I admit reluctantly.

“I have the new one on DVD for Aria. We’ll watch it sometime.”

“I’m not so sure I want to. I don’t want to tarnish one of my childhood favorite movies by watching a remake.”

He gets up from the stool, snaps off his gloves, and tosses them in the trash. He turns back to me, his lips tipping up at the corners. “Trust me, you’ll want to.” He looks at the man still lying down. “Go take a look, Garrett, and tell me what you think.”

Garrett gets up from the chair and walks over to the mirror, turning his back to it and looking over his shoulder.

“Fuck, man. That shit is badass,” Garrett says, looking very pleased with the finished design. He comes back to the chair and grabs his shirt. “Gonna try to talk Mitzy into letting me get the rabbit in a few months,” he says as he pulls the shirt over his head, being careful not to drag the material across his new tattoo.

“Good luck with that,” Luca grunts with a chuckle.

“Yeah. Lord knows I must love the woman to put up with her all these years. I’ll get with you when I can.” He looks at me. “It was nice meeting you, Jules.”

I smile kindly at him. “It was nice meeting you too, Garrett.”

“Ella will take care of you out front.”

With a nod, Garrett walks out of the room. Not wanting to leave yet, I resume my seat on my stool and watch Luca as he straightens the room and cleans his tools.

I run my eyes over the colorful ink on his arms. “Who did your tattoos?” I ask.

His hand pauses on putting away a bottle of ink and he looks at me before resuming. “Most of them my dad did. But Ella has done a few.”

“Your dad owned the shop before you, right?”

He starts dismantling his tattoo machine as he answers. “Yeah. He opened it twenty-eight years ago. I always knew growing up that one day it would be mine.”

“Did you know that Aria wants to work here when she gets older?”

A smile touches his lips as he puts all the pieces of his tattoo machine in the autoclave. “She’s told me.”

“She’s really good at drawing.”

I know I’m rambling and should probably shut up, but I like being with Luca and hearing him talk.

“She always has been. It used to piss Theo off,” he remarks.

I frown. “Why would her being good at drawing make him angry?”

He shrugs then takes a seat on his stool and starts pulling out items and putting them on top of the tool box he uses to store all his supplies. “I don’t know. Maybe because she takes after me, Ella, and our dad, and he can’t draw worth shit. It’s something we all four have in common that he doesn’t.”

“He should be proud of her,” I say heatedly, angry on Aria’s behalf. What kind of father gets jealous over their kids? “That’s why he doesn’t put her pictures on the fridge.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, but Luca nods anyway. “It’s also why my, Ella’s, and my parents’ fridges are covered in them. She needs to realize her talent at drawing is a gift that she should be proud of.”

I twist back and forth on my chair and watch as he pulls out a bottle of dark ink and squirts some in a tiny cup. He then pulls out another tattoo machine, opens a package of needles and puts them in the machine. Everything comes so natural to him, I’m sure he could probably do it with his eyes closed.

My gaze slides over his face. He still hasn’t shaved, so the scruff on his face is thicker. I normally don’t care for the rugged look, but on Luca, it’s very appealing. The piercing in his eyebrow is a simple silver ball on both sides. The gauges in his ears aren’t very large, probably the size of a pencil eraser. I’ve also seen a silver ball in his tongue peek out sometimes when he talks. His arms are covered in tattoos, and I know his torso must carry some as well from the color that shows just above the collar of his shirt. Tattoos and piercings also have never been really attractive to me—not that I find them repulsive, I just never went gaga over them like many girls have. On Luca though, it’s alluring, almost seductive even. I couldn’t imagine him without all the body modifications, and I wouldn’t want to even if I could.

“You know…,” I start. He looks up from what he’s doing when I pause. I clear my throat and continue. “Just from looking at you, I wouldn’t have taken you for being such a nice guy.”

His brows rise, and I realize too late how my statement sounded. Heat creeps up my cheeks.

“I d-didn’t… mean it like that.” My shoulders hunch; I feel like an idiot. “I just meant you give off this vibe that says don’t fuck with me, not the caring guy you apparently are.”

His smirk looks entirely way too good on his face, and I’ve already made a fool of myself, so it’s time for me to leave.

I get up, tossing my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m gonna go back out front.”

His smirk turns into a grin. Before I can turn away, he pats the chair in front of him. “Come sit.”

Unsure of what he’s up to, I walk to him slowly. He pushes his stool back for me to fit between him and the chair. When I sit, he scoots his stool forward again and messes around with his tattoo machine. I’m still facing him with my feet dangling just above the floor.

“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.

He looks at me out the corner of his eyes. “I’m not doing anything. You are.”

My brows wrinkle in confusion. He pulls a pair of gloves out of a box and tosses them on my lap.

“There are a couple spots on my arm that I need touched up. You’re going to do it for me.”

My eyes widen. “What?” I practically screech. “I-I-I can’t do that!”

His chuckle is deep and the light in his already bright eyes is striking. I ignore the flutters the look sends to my stomach.

“It’s only a couple of lines, and I never tattoo myself.”

I warily watch as he slips on a pair of gloves then dips the tip of the tattoo machine in the black ink and presses the pedal to turn the machine on.

“Then get Ella to do it,” I tell him. “I can’t tattoo you, Luca. I’ll totally screw it up.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll help you. Now put the gloves on.”

Hesitantly, I pick the gloves up, looking at the latex guardedly, as if they’ll bite me, then pull them on. Once they’re in place, Luca scoots his chair closer to me until his chest meets my knees. He lifts his eyes, and without him asking, I know what he wants. My heart rate accelerates as I open my legs and he moves forward until my inner thighs meet his sides. His gaze stays on mine, and I know he’s making sure I’m okay with the intimate position.

Once he sees I’m fine, he stretches out his left arm and lays it across my thigh until most of his arm is behind me. The crook of his elbow is on my upper thigh. His other hand is holding the tattoo machine and is resting on my other leg, just above my knee. With him between my legs and his arm resting on my thigh, I feel surrounded by him. It almost makes me dizzy.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper. When he takes the meaning behind my words the wrong way and starts to remove his arm, I grab his bicep. “I’m worried I’ll do it wrong or completely mess something up.”

His smile is gentle and warm, but there’s an underlying tenseness in his features. I can feel it where my thighs are pressed against his sides as well.

“Look down,” he says, his voice rougher than normal.

Luca’s eyes darken as he follows the movement when I lick my lips, then rub them together before looking down at his arm. His shirt sleeve is pulled up past his shoulder.

“See the black line that follows along the outside edge of the eagle’s beak?” When I nod, he continues. “All I want you to do is run over that line. It’s faded some and just needs a touch-up. Same thing with the line running along the bottom of the angel wing on the left side.”

It doesn’t look too hard, they’re just straight lines, but I’m still nervous. Although the thought of marking him in a permanent way sends a thrill through me. It’ll kind of be like I’ll be part of him.

I take a deep, encouraging breath and nod. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and that sends a thrill through me too.

He hands me the tattoo machine and shows me the proper way to hold it. He keeps his voice low as he explains, “I’ll press the pedal. You just hold it against my skin, and I’ll help guide you.”

He places a couple of napkins down on the chair beside me, puts the tiny cup of ink on top, then tears off a couple more napkins and folds them twice. He looks to the floor and moves the pedal so it’s easier for him to reach.

“You ready?”

“No,” I tell him honestly and he grins again. I take another deep breath. “Yes. But”—I warn—“if it looks like crap afterward, it’s your fault.”

“I’m not worried.”

“I’m glad one of us isn’t,” I grumble.

All of a sudden, the machine in my hand starts to vibrate and there’s a light buzzing sound. I jump at the unexpected sound, then glower at his chuckle. The vibration stops.

“Dip the tip in the ink,” he rumbles. I do so and the vibration and buzzing start again, then stops seconds later. I lift the machine and his warm hand grabs mine and guides it so the tip is just above the area he wants worked on. When he feels the tremble in my hand, he murmurs, “Relax.”

My chest expands as I blow out air through my nose and try to calm my nerves. I feel his eyes on me, so I give him a nod. The machine vibrates and buzzes again, then he’s gently pressing down. The minute the needle touches his skin, a bead of black ink appears over the already colored portion. A weird sense of excitement fills me as both Luca and I move the machine down his skin, leaving behind a darker black line.

He pulls the machine away and lets my hand go to grab one of the napkins to wipe away the excess ink. The line he reveals looks pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. I can’t help but send him a smile.

“You did good,” he compliments. “You want to do the next one by yourself?”

“Umm… you really trust me not to mess it up?”

One corner of his mouth tips up. “There’s not really much you can do to mess it up, Jules. Do what you just did. Move slow and stay along the line that’s already there.”

I purse my lips to the side, both anxious and excited to do it without his aid.

“Okay.”

The area that needs to be touched up is more on his shoulder than his arm. Luca scoots his chair closer, and my breath hitches when my legs are pushed open more to accommodate him. His chest is only inches away from being pressed against my center, and his face is eye level with my breasts. I notice his gaze on them before he looks away. His other forearm lies against my other thigh, his hand resting on the chair beside me.

“You need more ink,” he says hoarsely.

It takes me a moment to register what he said, then I dig the tip of the needle in the ink and he presses the pedal. Having him so close is definitely not helping my nerves, but I force the jitters away and bring the machine to the spot at the bottom of the angel wing. The machine turns on and I press it against his skin, concentrating on keeping my hand steady.

Once I’m done, I move the machine away and he releases the pedal. He takes the machine from my hand and lays it back on the tool box, then grabs the napkin and wipes away the extra ink. A sense of pride hits me when I look down and see I did a good job of keeping the line straight.

“Not bad for your first time,” Luca says, looking down at the line himself.

I look at his bent head. He has the longer hair pulled back into a band to keep it from falling in his face while he works. I have a sudden urge to pull the band out of his hair and run my fingers through it to feel how soft it is.

As if feeling my eyes and thoughts on him, he lifts his head. I don’t know what he finds in my expression, but his eyes turn intense. I’ve seen desire on men’s faces before, and what I see on Luca’s couldn’t be construed as anything other than that. It has my thighs clenching against his sides. His arm curls around my waist until his hand touches my side and his fingers dig into the flesh there. He puts his other hand on my butt and slides me forward until I’m flush against him. I suck in a sharp breath at the intimate contact and my hands fly to his broad shoulders. Not to push him away, but to hold on so I don’t fall over at the powerful rush of need I feel.

He gazes up at me, his eyes filled with profound need and fierce yearning. His voice is a tortured whisper when he speaks.

“I know I’ll probably go to hell for this, but goddamn, Jules, I want you so fucking much. I ache every time I’m around you, and I’m fucking miserable when I’m not.”

My heart constricts with his admission. It’s so wrong of me, but I feel the same way. Even after the first time I saw him when I woke up from my coma and I freaked out, he’s been on my mind. I don’t know what it is about him, but he intrigues me. There’s just been… something about him that draws me in and hasn’t let me go. I want to know him. All of him.

“Luca….”

His eyes flare and his hands constrict on me when I whisper his name. My own fingers grip his shoulders tighter. I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs and the muscles in his jaw twitch. He’s struggling just as hard as I am with these unfamiliar feelings.

I gasp when his head falls to my lap, his forehead landing just below my private area. Hot breath fans through my jeans as he takes several deep breaths. I’m embarrassed when I think of him being so close to my pussy, because I know I’m wet and I wonder if he can smell it. The gravelly groan that leaves his lips makes me think he can.

Of their own accord, my hands move from his shoulders to his back. He feels hard beneath my fingers, and it only makes me want to lift his shirt and explore his bare flesh. His groan deepens and his head presses further into my lap. I barely suppress my moan when his nose pushes against my jeans, right over the wet spot I know my panties carry.

My gaze once again lands on the band in his hair. Feeling bold, I carefully pull his hair loose then sift my fingers through the soft strands.

He lifts his head and his arms loosen around me, but his hands slide under the bottom of my shirt, touching my bare flesh. His eyes look wild and so damn beautiful as he stares up at me.

“This is wrong.” His voice is low and rough.

“I know,” I say, just as quietly.

“I shouldn’t want you.”

Although his words hurt a part of me, I know why he feels the way he does. I’m his brother’s wife and we barely know each other. I’m surprised when the thought of our past doesn’t even cross my mind.

I nod.

His fingers bite into my flesh. Not painfully, but erotically.

“I should be put down for the things I want to do to you.”

At that, I shake my head and tighten my fingers in his hair. It may be wrong of us to share these feelings, but they aren’t there because we want them to be. We can’t help the way we feel.

“No,” I tell him and slide my hands from his hair to his neck. “Because I feel the same way.”

His jaw clenches and his hands twitch against my sides, as if he’s fighting for some type of control.

“Why does it feel so right when it’s so wrong?”

His question is rhetorical, not to mention clichéd, but it fits our situation to a T, because what we’re feeling is wrong, but feels so right at the same time. Why does this have to be so difficult? Why do I feel such a strong connection to him? And why couldn’t I have been with him seven years ago instead of Theo?

Loud voices come from the front of the shop and it breaks the spell between us. With one last look of longing, he pushes back from me and comes to his feet. I blink several times to push away the haze of desire still coursing through me. My eyes avoid his as I stand.

Quietly, I walk out of the room and back to the front. My legs are shaky and my hands tremble, but I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.