Lunar Crest University (Forbidden Fruit)

Chapter Sixteen

FINLEY

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14TH, 2023

I groan softly as I watch my mother’s infamous pasta sauce burn in the frying pan on top of my stove, palming my forehead tiredly as I twist the knob until the burner turns off. I knew it wasn’t the best idea to try and replicate the nearly perfect sauce, especially considering my track record with cooking, but I pathetically wanted to impress Luca. What could go wrong with a simple pasta dish?

Apparently, a lot.

And I don’t even know if he’s going to show up. Totally humiliating, Finn. Really nice.

It’s beyond humiliating. I’ve officially peaked on the pitiful scale—was there even a word worse than absolutely mortifying? I may as well have gotten on my hands and knees to beg him to come over. That thought was devastating. My perfectionist brain is trying to sabotage me, making me overthink every little thing until it all results in a monumental disaster.

It started with the ultimate battle of what clothes to wear. Something cute, but not cute enough to be obvious. Something comfy, but not gremlin status. Eventually, I settled on an oversized sweater with a pair of black yoga pants, seemingly unsatisfied still after staring at myself aimlessly in the mirror for ten minutes straight. Then, my hair wouldn’t cooperate for a messy bun. Every time I whipped it up onto my head, it looked wrong. It would’ve looked just fine if no one was coming over. But no, my baby hairs wanted to stick out in every direction possible and make me look like a troll who just crawled from underneath a bridge.

Who cares what I look like?

He’s coming over to help with my paper. That’s all.

A grimace flickers across my features as the thought pops into my head. Of course that isn’t it at all. I wanted any reason to be around him again—hell, I begged him for it, just to be in the same vicinity as the man who made me come, breathing hot and heavy in my ear as he whispered dirty things. The echo of his voice inside my head warms my cheeks.

A round of knocks against my front door makes me flinch, tugging me harshly back to the present as I shift the frying pan into the sink as smoke slowly billows from the burnt sauce.

“Come in!”

I hear the door open as I run the cold water over the pan, jumping back with a squeak as it sizzles loudly.

“Why is your door unlocked?” Luca’s deep voice questions irritably behind me. “It’s not safe, Finley. What’s the point of having locks if you don’t use them?”

Spinning around meekly, my bottom lip tugs between my teeth. His dark eyes soften partially at my expression, only to widen at the smoke wafting behind me, his lips parting in confusion. Even on a Saturday, he dons a button-down shirt that tucks neatly into his khakis. His sleeves are rolled slightly, and my eyes immediately flicker down to his forearms, igniting the obscene thoughts in my mind once more.

“Is something burning?”

His messy hair brushes his ears, a disarray of curls on top of his head, the same color as his mustache and five o’clock shadow that cascades along his jaw and cheeks. My stomach churns excitedly at the sight of him. He’s too handsome for his own good, for my own good.

I nod. “Dinner.”

His eyebrows knit in confusion as he rushes around the marble island toward me, relaxing as his eyes fall on the water running in the pan—sauce separating and cascading down the drain in clumps. His chest heaves as he sighs, glancing down at me.

“I was making my mom’s sauce recipe.” I shrug, scratching my neck. “But I burnt it.”

“You burnt pasta sauce.”

A weak laugh escapes my lips at how humiliating it sounds coming from his. Grimacing slightly, I turn off the water before I walk toward the island in the center of the kitchen and fidget with the edge of the countertop.

“I’ve never been the best cook.”

“And you thought you’d try tonight?” his voice sounds behind me, and I swear, I can hear the smile in his words.

“ Please ,” I groan, rolling my eyes teasingly as I twist around to face him. “I didn’t attempt to cook for you, if that’s what you’re thinki?—”

“Right.”

“I didn’t .”

He holds his hands up defensively. “Okay, Princesa . I believe you.”

I’ll never get tired of hearing the pet name he’s given me. Every time the word leaves his lips, it makes my heart thump erratically inside of my chest—especially when his brown eyes are peering down at me the way they are right now, inquisitively and in awe all at the same time. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking when he looks at me like that. I wonder if they mirror my own thoughts, or if I’ve completely lost my mind. As he gazes down at my lips for a fraction of a second, I think it may be the latter. How can he look at me like he’s studying every inch of me if he doesn’t want me?

“But I hope you didn’t show up hungry.” I sigh softly, wincing as I glance back over at the pan in the sink. “Because my only other dinner options involve bread and peanut butter.”

Luca drops his head slightly, looking down at me through dark lashes as he steps closer. His eyes dart smoothly across my face, settling a little longer on my lips than the rest of my features before he clears his throat.

“No jelly?”

I shake my head.

I don’t know what I expect his reaction to be, but it isn’t to reach up tentatively to rub the space between my brows with his fingertip. He slowly massages the spot as his eyes hold mine, making the frown I hadn’t even realized had formed disappear. My breath dwindles to a silent gasp for air at the action, and my heart thumps madly against my chest as my lips part in awe.

“Only psychopaths eat peanut butter without jelly.”

A breathless laugh bursts through my mouth, and I swear, I see his lip twitch as he drops his hand back to his side.

“I hate jelly.” My nose scrunches as I smile, dropping my gaze down to my intertwined fingers.

My cheeks are ablaze, and I can’t tell if it’s from how he’s studying me or because I seriously ruined a perfectly simple pasta dish in front of this man. The more I think about how embarrassing it is that I just offered him peanut butter sandwiches for dinner, the more my face twists into a humiliated grimace.

“I’ll order us a pizza.”

My head snaps up at his words. “What? No?—”

“I wasn’t asking,” he says, nodding toward the couch.

I quickly clamp my mouth shut so I’m not standing there gaping at him as he whisks his phone from his pocket. My feet are planted to the floor as I watch the way he drags his tongue along his bottom lip, bringing the phone to his ear as his eyes flicker up to meet mine.

“Any preferences?”

“No pineapple.”

“ Loca ,” Luca mutters.

His tone of voice is teasing, and it makes my cheeks ache from fighting the smile that threatens to imprint on my lips forever. I nibble at them as he orders our pizza, his large hand clutching the phone as he paces back and forth. In the glow of the lamp that burns bright next to my couch, I can see his jaw flexing as he speaks, which only leads me to the flash of collarbone that hides underneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. I want to guide my hands underneath and feel the ripple of muscles beneath my fingertips. It’s almost painful how handsome he is.

Tearing my gaze away, I walk toward the couch and plop down before I blow a blood vessel in my brain from gawking too hard.

He’s here to help me with my paper. That’s it. That’s what we talked about…when I was begging him to come over. It really is bad enough that we’ve slipped up once—this isn’t smart. I could get kicked from class, or worse—he could lose his job. My people-pleasing conscience would not be able to handle it if I was the reason he got fired from teaching.

My hands fidget in my lap as I wait for him to get off the phone, picking the fuzz from my pants as I try to level my breathing to a normal pace.

“Pepperoni okay?”

I jerk my head up as Luca perches on the cushion next to me, shoving his phone in his pocket—his knee brushing mine.

“Yes.” I swallow. “Pepperoni is good.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the palate of a child?”

Twisting my head to scoff at him, I’m surprised to see his eyes are crinkled in the corners as he smiles at me. Like a real smile. I didn’t think it was even possible for him to smile. His face softens so much when he does. His eyes lighten just a smidge, the dark brown warming into more of a mocha color as they study my features. My heart skips in my chest as I quickly try to recover.

“I do not.”

He tilts his head skeptically.

I giggle. “Because I don’t like jelly with peanut butter sandwiches or pineapples on pizza?”

“You also burnt pasta sauce,” he adds.

My lips smack in disbelief. “That has nothing to do with my palate and everything to do with my cooking skills. Have you ever considered that maybe it’s you who has the weird palate? Pineapples on pizza ?”

“Do you like sushi?” He brings his left knee up as he shifts on the couch to face me.

I shake my head feebly.

“Hot sauce?”

I grimace. “No.”

“What do you like to eat?”

“Lots of things.” I fight a smile. “Pasta, pizza, soup… Maybe I have a reserved palate, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m a simple girl.”

His thick eyebrows raises doubtfully as he leans against the couch cushion, and I swat at his knee. It’s a playful swat, and a nervous laugh even escapes as I do it, but it freezes in my throat as he grabs my wrist before I can pull away. All I can hear is my heartbeat echoing in my ears as the heat from his fingers sends electricity through my veins. He tugs slightly, and my eyes lift to meet his.

“Come here, Finley.”

I’ve been doing so good. I’ve been restraining myself, denying the feelings bubbling in my chest.

We shouldn’t—we can’t .

But there’s a rasp to his voice that makes my stomach flutter as I look at him. His grip loosens faintly, his fingers caressing my skin in a way that makes me forget why we shouldn’t in the first place. It doesn’t feel wrong; it never does with him, and as his eyes flicker down to my lips, I’m quickly reminded why. His brow furrows gently, and his mouth parts as he drinks me in. That look alone is dangerous. It’s sin, one that could get us in a lot of trouble.

No amount of trouble sounds scary enough to deter me when he’s looking at me like this.

I lean over steadily, placing my other hand on the cushion for balance as I inch toward him. I’m so close to him, I can feel his exhale as it cascades across my collarbone. It’s unwavering, whereas mine practically comes out in quick pants as I try to calm my poor heart. There’s no way to avoid the palpitations, not when I’m nearly sitting in his lap, and definitely not when he’s running his tongue along his bottom lip as he watches me.

“There are a lot of words I would use to describe you,” he murmurs, releasing my wrist as he brings his hand up to my cheek. His finger brushes my skin before tucking my hair behind my ear. “But simple is not one of them.”

My eyes flicker down to my hand that rests on his thigh to avoid his gaze.

“I’m complicated, then,” I assume.

It wouldn’t be the first time a guy has called me that. My mind is already starting to sabotage itself as I knit my eyebrows, but it screeches to a halt as he reaches out to trace his finger along the back of my hand. He doesn’t force me to look at him, doesn’t urge me to explain, but instead, he just continues to draw comforting circles against my skin.

Damn him .

“No, Princesa . The situation is complicated.”

I never thought the burly, grumpy-looking man from the alley could be like this. Soft. Gentle. It only makes everything so much harder. It makes me want to forget about how dangerous he possibly is and the consequences that can come from what we’ve already done, but he’s right. This is complicated.

I peek up at him with a sheepish smile.

“It is complicated,” I agree. “Isn’t it?”

He nods, his finger brushing over my knuckles. “I shouldn’t be here. There’s so much at stake, more than you know. But I can’t stop thinking about how you sound when you come, Finley. It haunts me. I fucking dream about it.”

My mouth dries.

He repositions himself on the couch, completely facing me now as he scoops up my hand and puts it to his chest. He holds it there as he studies my face. “I need to try something. You can tell me no. You can tell me to leave. I’ll leave, and nothing will ever come from this if that’s what you want.”

His heart hammers against my palm, and I realize it’s just as unsteady as mine. He’s stoic as he looks at me, but he’s a frenzy on the inside. I can feel it. The erratic beat against my hand gives him away, and each thump deepens the nail in our coffin. It solidifies my certainty in this complicated situation. In him.

“That’s not what I want,” I whisper.

His heart thrashes under my hand, and everything I’d thought earlier suddenly seems so miniscule. There’s no way I can sit here and continue to wonder how he feels about our circumstances, about me , when he’s on the verge of cardiac arrest with every word that leaves my lips. I want to keep my hand here forever so I’ll always know how he’s feeling, even when his face gives nothing away.

“I need to kiss you.”

The teeny flutters in my stomach transform into an entire zoo as I swallow thickly. Goosebumps rise along every inch of my body, the hairs prickling and making me shiver as I picture what it would feel like to have his lips on mine. A hum tumbles from my mouth, because the chance of forming a coherent sentence is slim to none with the way he waits on my response—his eyes darkening and softening all at once.

I’ll never get over those teddy bear eyes.

“Can I?” he asks, and I nearly faint.

My head bobs up and down weakly.

Luca releases my hand as he reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “I thought we talked about using our words.”

The reminder makes my thighs squeeze together. Flickers of heavy pants in my ear and his hand between my legs flash through my mind like a movie on replay, and I feel the heat dance across my cheeks at the memory.

“ Yes , sir,” I breathe.

“My good girl.”

He inches toward me as he brushes his nose against my jawline, making me shiver as my eyes struggle to stay open. I want so badly to close them and lean into his touch, but I stay still, allowing him to move at his own pace. It’s he who has more to lose than me.

Anticipation bubbles in my stomach as he rests his hand on my cheek, cupping it gently as his thumb caresses my skin. His nose follows up my jaw until his teeth suddenly capture my earlobe, making me gasp audibly at the sensation. There is a string of moans ready to leave my lips, but they’re muffled as he smashes his mouth against mine, and the butterflies swarm inside my chest, into my lungs, through my veins. He consumes me. His lips are warm, softer than I could’ve ever imagined, and his mustache scratches my skin in a way I hope leaves a permanent mark.

It takes a moment for my lungs to gain traction as they search for air, and my heart stutters pathetically as his lips move in a languid rhythm. My hands rest against his chest as I lean into him, my fingers gripping his shirt tightly, as if it’s life or death.

It may be with how it feels like my heart could stop beating as he kisses me with reserved fervor. Soft and firm, all at once. I’d be honored to die like this. He’s clearly holding back—his fingers grip the back of my neck harshly but loosen just as quickly. Then, his lips devour mine a little more, only to pull back hesitantly, like he’s afraid to go too far, afraid he won’t be able to reel himself back in. Maybe it’s for the best. I’m already near collapsing as it is.

It’s the kind of kiss that permanently alters your brain chemistry. Etches itself like a tattoo into your heart. Makes the inevitable heartbreak so, so much worse. I urge the feeling to go away, but it won’t. The sparks flying in every one of my nerve endings tell me this is going to screw me up forever.

His hands grasp my face just before he pulls away, his chest heaving as he searches my eyes for the answers he silently seeks. “You could get expelled. I could get fired.”

“Yes.”

He swallows. “It’s a dangerous game we’re playing.”

Disappointment floods through me as he drops his hands, but I ignore it as I nod. My lips are swollen from his kiss, and I revel in the feeling before it fades away.

“I can’t get fired.” His voice comes out in a whisper.

“I know.”

“But I can’t stay away from you either, Princesa .”

I know his words mean something entirely different than what is pumping through my heart, but I’m too selfish to give up the pieces he’s giving me. Too weak .

The confirmation warms me from the inside out. I have to fight the smile that begs to appear on my face, so instead, I nibble at my bottom lip as I glance down at my fidgeting fingers. “I don’t want you to stay away.”

His sigh is quiet but echoes in the silence filling the apartment. It reverberates in my ears, making me wince as I peek up at him with a pained look. I should be thanking him for at least trying to be the sane one here, because all my sanity flew out of the window the moment he walked in the door. If I’m honest with myself, I haven’t grasped any rationality since I met him. It was left in the alley that night.

Luca cocks his head at me, and his eyebrows furrow as a torn look flashes across his face. It’s the first time I’ve been able to decipher any emotion in his features at all.

The doorbell ringing slices through the tension like a sharp knife, bursting the bubble and bringing us right back down to Earth. We blink slowly in unison at each other for a moment before he stands from the couch, straightens his shoulders, and walks toward the door. I find myself staring at his broad back as he whisks his wallet out of his back pocket to pay the pizza guy and how it flexes beneath his shirt with every movement.

Oh, Finn .

My life has been thrown off balance in ways that should send me spiraling, but instead, I find myself wanting to chase the chaos.

“Pepperoni pizza.” Luca’s voice brings me back to the present. His lips curve as he approaches me, opening the box and giving me a glimpse of the greasy pie. “No pineapple. Just as you requested.”

“Will you ever let that go?” I ask, taking a slice.

He plops back down next to me as he sits the box down on the coffee table in front of us. I don’t miss the way his arm rests on the cushion behind me as he bites into the pizza. His fingers brush my shoulder as he mumbles, “I’ll think about it.”

“Is it that weird?”

He looks at me pointedly, but there’s amusement in his eyes.

“Weird enough to make you want to leave?” The words shuffle out of my mouth quickly before I bite into my pizza, and a piece of cheese dribbles on my chin in the process.

A mortified laugh escapes my lips as I lift my hand to swipe it away, but the sound dwindles to more of a gasp as Luca reaches up and presses the pad of his thumb against my skin. His gaze sends goosebumps traveling down every inch of my body, like tiny bolts of electricity, straight to my heart as he gently brushes it across my chin. I’m practically a puddle at his feet as his eyes observe me through his thick lashes. The pizza slice goes limp in my hand as I freeze under his touch.

“No,” he says, and his voice rumbles through me. “I think I’ll stay right here.”

I’m a goner.

“Is that so?” I rasp.

“Yes.”

He sounds so confident as he speaks, and his eyes never waver from mine. It makes my knees wobble even though I’m sitting down. My chest shudders as I try to breathe through my nose, and I hope he doesn’t notice. As I’m on the verge of passing out, he’s stoic, not a twitch in his features or hesitancy in his demeanor. He’s being truthful—he wants to be here.

“Is that okay?” Luca asks after a moment, and I realize I haven’t responded. I’m too busy trying to breathe in and out. In and out. In and out .

“Yes.” I nod, only a little, careful not to move his thumb against my chin.

He moves it anyway as he brings it to his lips, licking the cheese from his finger and making my stomach seize from the rupture of butterflies inside of it. The sight steals my breath, and I only have a moment to recover before he leans forward to press his mouth against mine. It’s the tiniest of kisses, a soft peck that makes warmth pool like honey within my chest. He tastes like pizza and sin and all my darkest desires. I want to whimper as he pulls away, because I already miss the heat of his touch, but then, he kisses me again. And again . A multitude of pecks against my parted lips lock in my fate a little tighter each time.

It’s like he knows just how badly I need this. How badly I need him .

“Finish your pizza,” he orders after the last kiss, leaning back with a faint smirk that disappears just before he bites into his own piece again.

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes catch mine as the words leave my lips, and he cocks his head slightly as if to say don’t tempt me . This only makes me want to tempt him even more. I wonder how far he’s willing to go—how far I can push him. I know it’s wrong to think that way, considering our situation, but something about how those brown eyes warn me silently makes me want to disobey. The thought makes fire ignite inside the lower pits of my stomach.

A smile threatens to creep onto my face, so I eat another bite of my pizza before I allow him to see it. We sit in silence for a few moments as we finish our slices, and I’m particularly careful not to look up at him, because I know that suggestive smirk will be resting on his lips.

My knee bounces as I chew my last bite.

“Do you want another piece?”

I glance up at Luca, and all the anticipation erupting in my body flickers through his irises. It’s a trick question. Do I eat more? Do I say no because I’m impatiently awaiting what happens next? Every fiber of my being screams no. Screw the pizza. Kiss me again .

“Do you?” I counter softly.

His jaw clenches, and so do my thighs.

“No, Finley.” He cleans his face with a napkin before his fingers find my waist in a mere second, sliding underneath the fabric of my shirt. Clenching it into a fist, he pulls me closer. I scoot toward him with a squeak. “I’m not hungry for pizza.”

“N-no?” My throat bobs as I swallow.

Tugging me into his lap, Luca brushes my collarbone as his eyes watch his movements with heavy lids. I jolt as he caresses my skin, trying ineptly hard not to clench my thighs around his waist in the process. His finger trails down my chest just before he peeks up at me.

He shakes his head.

“I think I’m ready for dessert.”