Lunar Crest University (Forbidden Fruit)

Chapter Twenty-Four

LUCA

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25TH, 2023

G enevieve tested positive for the flu.

Instead of the dinner that had been on the itinerary for last night, we ended up taking a trip to the A&E because she looked like shit when we stopped back at the hotel. Based on our situation, the doctor advised her to stay in her hotel room for the remainder of the trip and take the medicine she was prescribed—otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to go home when we did. The airport would never let her on a plane in that condition.

I was selfishly content with it all.

It was risky enough to pretend like everything was normal with Finley when there was another student around. Now, it was fucking impossible. I couldn’t keep my professional mask up every second of the day, not when the thought of her coming all over my cock ran through my mind every time I looked at her. It was just so easy to be caught up in her when I knew what it felt like to hear her moaning my name.

Being in another country felt like there were no limits, no matter how false I knew that to be.

But I’ve never been the good guy, the guy with morals who made all the right decisions because I was a good person. I’m a retired hitman, for fuck’s sake. I used to murder dozens of people for money, and I never lost a wink of sleep over it.

Getting caught with Finley should have deterred me, and at first, I think I made myself believe that was why I was staying away. But I don’t give a fuck about being caught, not really. It was just a good excuse to use, an excuse that told Finley that I did have morals, that I wasn’t some guy who found pleasure in coating my hands with another person’s blood.

The thought of scaring her away worries me more than losing my job.

Fuck .

The dinner that was supposed to happen last night was pushed to tonight instead, hence the reason I’m pacing back and forth in the lobby, awaiting Finley’s arrival down the marble steps across the room. The thought of a private dinner for the two of us has my palms itching to touch her again. I already know she’s going to be an enigma when she comes down those stairs—she always is—but the bundle of nerves in my stomach tightens anyway.

The first thing I see is Finley’s black heels amongst the swirl of white and gray marble on the stairs before she comes into full view. They’re chunky with a thin strap and fuck . Her porcelain legs are so long, guiding my gaze to her black, skin-tight dress. It hugs her curves perfectly, and the spaghetti straps showcase her collarbone and chest. Her dark hair falls in waves down her back, and she’s wearing a dark lipstick I can’t wait to smear off later.

I swallow as she approaches. “You look beautiful.”

Her cheeks redden as she bites her lip. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

I cock my head at her as I reach up to brush my knuckles against the pink that dances along her face. “ Jesús , Finley. I don’t know if we’ll make it to the restaurant.”

I want to fuck her so bad.

She swats my hand away with a snicker. “But I’m hungry.”

Intertwining her fingers with mine, she tugs me toward the entrance to the lobby. As we step out into the cool night air, the wind blows her hair back, exposing her neck for me to press a kiss to the base of her throat from behind. A tiny giggle bursts from her lips as she leans into my touch, and the way she arches into me slightly makes my cock strain in my pants.

I revel in the way she laughs for me and the smell of her familiar perfume before she tugs me toward our cab.

The dark sky is speckled with stars—a big change from the constant clouds that hover constantly in Lunar Crest. It’s just as chilly, but at least it’s dry. I’d take this over the rain that occurs nearly every other day back home.

I notice the way Finley’s skin pebbles from the cold as we climb into our cab, and I shimmy out of my overcoat before draping it across her shoulders. She sends me a sweet smile as she presses herself into my side, basking in the warmth.

“Won’t you get cold?” she asks softly.

“ Estoy bien ,” I assure her, wrapping my arm around her as my other hand rests on her thigh. “It’s kind of hot in here, actually.”

“Hot?” Her head perks up as she glances up at me. “It’s freezing.”

I tsk playfully as my fingers trail up her leg. “You don’t think it’s hot in here?”

“ Luca .”

She stifles her laugh as she grasps my hand, but she doesn’t push me away. It’s dark outside, so the driver can’t see the way I creep up further, caressing her inner thigh. She doesn’t stop that movement either. As I gaze down at her, I see the way her full lips part faintly as she looks down at my hand, dangerously close to the hem of her dress.

“What if he sees?” she murmurs quietly, peeking up at me with wide eyes.

“As long as you’re quiet…” I trail off, my voice barely above a whisper as I push my hand beneath her dress. “And you can keep your face composed…”

I freeze as my fingers find she’s not wearing any fucking underwear.

“No panties?” I rasp into her ear. “Bad girl . ”

Her hips buck forward into my hand, searching for more as a tiny gasp filters through her mouth. I press my thumb against her clit, and she bites down harshly on her bottom lip.

“You ripped the last ones,” she says weakly.

“And I told you I’d buy you more, didn’t I?”

She goes to say something else but holds her breath in a quiet gasp as my finger slips between her folds. Her hand reaches down to hold my wrist, pushing me harder into her slick cunt. Her legs splay out as I finger fuck her, watching as she struggles to keep her composure.

Pressing my lips to her ear, I say, “This pretty little dress is awfully short, Finley. Were you hoping someone else would catch a peek of what’s underneath tonight?”

She shakes her head meekly, white-knuckling her grip around my wrist.

“No?” I question lowly.

“N-no,” she stammers. “No one else.”

My palm is drenched with her slick as she guides my finger in and out faster each time. Adding another finger, I curl them upward as I watch her jaw flex from clenching her teeth so hard. Both of her hands grip my wrist now as she grinds against my hand.

“No,” I repeat. “You wouldn’t purposely make sure some other guy would get a glimpse of this pretty cunt, would you?”

“ No , sir,” she breathes.

Good, because I wouldn’t hesitate to gouge some perverted fucker’s eyes out and feed them to him for looking at her.

With my other hand, I reach up and wrap my fingers around her petite throat, and I don’t miss the way the pleasure sparks in her green irises as she gapes at me. She tries to make me pump into her even harder, but I rip my hand away completely. My fingers tighten their grip on her neck as I lean forward to press a kiss to her lips.

“Hold that thought.”

“ Luca ,” she growls through clenched teeth, and I smile.

“The restaurant isn’t far.”

“Then why would you?—”

I squeeze harder. “Consider it your punishment, Princesa .”

She yanks free from my grasp, pulling my overcoat tighter around her as a pout rests on her lips. “Punishment for what?”

“Not wearing any panties,” I say, bringing my fingers to my mouth and tasting her. Her glare falters as she watches, and she squirms in her seat. “If I’m going to keep giving you orgasms, I need to know they’re mine. I don’t fucking share. I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want, but only when I know that sweet little cunt is mine .”

“It’s yours,” she urges. “I don’t want to be shar?—”

The cab comes to a halt, interrupting the desperation that makes me want to bend her over right here and fuck her brains out, to show her she’s damn right—it is fucking mine.

Finley’s pout holds strong as we get out of the cab and head into the restaurant, where we’re seated at a private table for two. It’s intimate and secluded, the perfect spot to edge her some more. I plan on making her squirm for the rest of the night, if only because I love to see how much she needs me to make her come. The look in her eyes when she’s drowning in ecstasy: heavy-lidded and staring at me like… The thought makes guilt bubble in my stomach.

I’m not a dumbass. I know she’s in way deeper than I am. She wears her heart on her sleeve for me—I see it. And still, I know I can never give her what it is she’ll eventually need.

Especially not when she finds out the truth. This was over before it could ever even begin.

“Who is the man on your wall?” I ask, changing the subject in my mind to something entirely different as I sip at the wine we’ve already ordered. “In the picture where you’re smiling all big.”

Her pout disappears as a knowing smile takes its place. “That’s my dad.”

I nod. “I like that picture.”

Her cheeks are pink in the dim lighting of the restaurant as she looks down at her hands in her lap. “What’s your family like? Do you have any siblings?”

“It’s just mi mamá and mis hermanas .” I contemplate telling any of this to her, since the area is so murky, but it’s spilling from my lips before I can stop it. “My father died when we were young.”

“I don’t have any siblings,” she says. “But I always wanted some.”

“Your parents didn’t want any more children?”

She shrugs, swirling her wine around in her glass. “They seemed content with just me, and I was happy enough with that. They’re both amazing. I’m lucky to have them.”

I watch as she sips from her glass, her eyes peering at me over the top. The way she talks about her parents is a feeling I know all too well. I adore my mother more than anyone else on the planet and would do anything to keep her safe. My sisters, too. They all hold the fucked up pieces to my heart, the only pieces capable of feeling anything.

“Do you see them often?” I ask her.

She shakes her head, and the small smile she has worn this whole conversation fades away. The sadness in her eyes makes me regret even asking. “Not as much since I started college. That’s my fault, though. I should visit them more.”

The conversation is interrupted as the waiter takes our food order, and I can’t help but feel thankful for it. I don’t like seeing the light leave her features when she talks about not getting to see her parents much. Maybe because I relate to it. But my not seeing my family is my own fucking doing—I distance myself when shit starts to go south in my life, and they pay the price. Like I said, I’m not a good guy, but I’d give my life for theirs.

“Do you get to see your family?” she asks once the waiter leaves.

“I just saw mi mamá before the trip, actually.”

Brushing her hair back over her shoulders, her lips curve in the corners. “Do you look like her?”

“A bit. I was always told I look more like my father.”

The way she’s staring at me again… Fuck . It’s like she’s always genuinely interested in what I have to say, like she’s clinging to every word.

“This is nice.” She motions between the two of us as she glances around. Her fingers wrap around her wine glass like she’s using it for stability before her eyes meet mine again.

“It is,” I agree.

“Can I ask you something?”

I nod.

“Now that I know you better…” She pauses, pulling her lip between her teeth. “I can’t help but wonder why on Earth you’d be getting almost killed in an alley at night?”

My molars crash together at her question. I knew it was eventually going to come up, of course I knew that, but I guess, in the midst of our trip, I forgot about it. Being here was like being in another universe, and with it literally just being the two of us, it makes the delusion that much more believable. For a moment, I forgot about Javier and the danger Finley was in.

Maybe I am a dumbass.

“I told you once that I’m not a saint, Finley.”

Once again, we’re interrupted, but this time, with the food. Relief floods my system that maybe she’ll drop the topic and move on to something different, but I know she’s a little worry wart who can’t leave something alone if it's bothering her.

“It’s hard to picture you as anything but,” she mutters, shoving a bite of her pasta into her mouth as she avoids eye contact.

I swallow.

Fucking hell.

“You knew him.” Even with her vagueness, I know she’s talking about Rosco. “How did you know him?”

“I used to work with him.”

There’s no point in lying, not about this. Not when I’ve already dug myself a deep enough hole as it is.

“Before you were a professor?” she assumes quietly.

I nod.

“What kind of work?”

The bite of food in my mouth sours at her question, but I swallow it down anyway. “The kind that you’re better off not knowing about.”

Her eyebrows crinkle as she gazes at me, and I watch her pupils dilate. The slow realization shadows her features like a looming cloud, but she quickly masks it as she takes another sip from her wine glass.

“I guess I knew that,” she whispers, but I have to wonder if it was meant more for herself than for me with how hushed it was.

It’s silent between us for a while as we chew tired bites of our food. I should say something. I know I should, but I can’t find the right words. Not that there are any for something like this. It was always there in plain sight, and I tried to warn her again and again. She literally met me when Rosco had gotten the upper hand on me in an alley. I was bleeding all over her bathroom, and she still refused to believe I was a bad guy.

“Why did you become a British Lit professor?”

I peer up at her cautiously, thinking of how I should tiptoe around this the right way. “I actually studied English in college, but I had a British Literature class I fell in love with. I switched over and eventually got my Master’s. I never did anything with it until now. I needed the money…so.”

Finley licks her lips. “You’re doing it because you need money? Not because you fell in love with it?”

“More one than the other,” I admit. “But I still love it.”

“Were you born here?”

I shake my head. “ México .”

She nods before finishing off her wine, blotting at her top lip as she looks down to her barely-eaten food. “Needing money… Does that have to do with your job from before?”

“Yes.”

If she wants to say something else, she doesn’t, and the waiter comes by with the check before I can attempt to save the crumbling night. She was always going to find out the ugly bits and pieces about me the more she spent time with me. It was inevitable. But why does it bother me so much to see the evident change in expression on her face? It bothers her—the frown lines and far-away look in her eyes give it away.

It shouldn’t bother me. I don’t give a fuck. Not about this, not about her, not about… Fuck . I’m such a goddamn liar.

Neither of us says anything else as I pay for our meal. She wraps my jacket back around her as we get up to leave the restaurant, and my jaw clenches at the thought of me fucking the entire night up by ever being involved with her in the first place. I ruin everything I touch. Why am I surprised that the pattern continues? My mind spirals to dark places as I open the door for her to walk outside, but it depletes almost immediately as she pushes up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my cheek on her way past me.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” I fight the urge to gawk at her.

“For tonight.”

It’s somehow even colder as we wait outside for our cab, and she peeks up at me expectantly from over my coat she has bundled herself in. My lips part in confusion before ultimately closing as I frown down at her.

“Thank you for taking me out,” she clarifies in a small voice. “I know it was on the itinerary, but I got to dress up and feel pretty. So, thank you.”

Had I read her wrong earlier? Was something not bothering her as I had thought? What was the strange look on her face if not distraught? I can’t fathom any reason as to why she would be perfectly fine now as she speaks to me. It’s as if she’d just come to terms with the damning realization that I’m not a good person.

“You’re always pretty,” I rasp.

“You know what I mean,” she breathes, smiling softly.

I cock my head, shaking it slightly as I search for the right words. “Finley…I don’t—I thought you… Aren’t you upset with me?”

Get it together, stuttering bitch.

“Should I be?”

Holy fuck. “ Yes . I just told you I used to work with that…son of a bitch. That I can’t tell you what kind of work it was. You should be running for the fucking hills, Princesa . For the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’re okay with that.”

Her smile fades as she blinks up at me. “I guess I always knew these things deep down. Maybe I chose to ignore them? I don’t know. What I do know is that I basically interrogated you in there and you told me the truth. Sure, you didn’t tell me everything, but you didn’t lie. You were honest with me, and I…I don’t want to run away.”

I take my glasses off as I rub a palm down my face. “This is crazy, you know that? You know that, don’t you? Loca ?—”

My words falter as she steps forward and places her palm against my chest, directly over my heart. It’s thudding harshly because I am in awe of her.

“Do you want me to run away?” she asks, peering up at me through dark lashes. Her green eyes observe every inch of my face.

Yes. You should. Run far away.

I don’t know what this girl is doing to me, but the ice inside my chest cracks just a little more every time I’m with her. My heart is dark and demented and has never loved anyone else in my entire life. Anyone other than my family, at least. I didn’t think I was capable. But it’s thrashing so hard, I’m convinced it’s trying to burst out of my chest just to get to her.

“Not unless you want me to chase you, amor .”