Love,Written In Ruins-Chapter 31: Can I Ask A Question

Luciano held her there—straddling his lap, her knees braced on either side of his hips—as if the entire room were narrowing down to just her, just this moment, just the slow, inevitable pull between them. His hands settled on her waist, fingers splayed wide, grounding her while a coil of intense, deliberate hunger tightened low in his core.

​Eloise swallowed hard. She could feel the tension radiating from him like a furnace, could feel the sharp line of his breath brushing her cheek. His heartbeat thudded beneath her palm—quick, powerful, nothing like the controlled cadence he usually carried.

And she knew, with a strange tremor of both fear and want, that she was the reason for it. She was the one who had disrupted his magnificent control.

​"Luciano..." Her voice sounded different now—breathier, unsure, but drawn toward him like a moth to flame, confessing her state of arousal.

​"Shh," he murmured, brushing his thumb along her jaw. "Don’t say anything unless you want to."

​He tilted her chin upward with a gentleness that contradicted every dark note simmering in his gaze. For a second, he only looked at her—really looked—like he was memorizing every detail of her face in this state. The flutter of her lashes. The faint tremble of her mouth. The shy, hesitant ache in her eyes that betrayed how new and frightening this level of intensity was for her.

​"You have no idea," he said softly, his voice thick with unspent desire, "how long I’ve wanted you like this, looking at me with nothing but raw need."

​A shiver rolled through her—unsteady, unsure, but craving more.

​He felt every bit of it.

​His hand slid up her spine, slow and possessive, guiding her body fully against his, until her bare chest pressed to his warm skin. The heat of him seeped into her, hot and dizzying. Eloise sucked in a sharp breath as her entire body reacted without her permission, legs tightening instinctively around him.

​Luciano inhaled sharply, a barely controlled sound.

​"Careful," he warned, voice dropping into something dangerous, a low, possessive rumble. "You’ll start something you aren’t ready to finish."

​Her cheeks heated instantly. "I didn’t mean—"

​"I know." His lips brushed her cheek, ghosting down toward her jaw. "That’s why it’s dangerous. It’s instinct, and instinct is always more honest than your mind."

​His mouth found the hollow beneath her ear, and Eloise’s breath stuttered so violently she clutched at his shoulders for balance. He didn’t kiss her fully—just let the heat of his lips hover against her skin, letting anticipation unravel her inch by slow inch, tormenting her with proximity.

​"Luciano..." she whispered, desperate for him to move, to decide her fate.

​He hummed softly, approvingly. "Say it again, Paloma."

​He dragged his nose down the column of her throat, savoring her scent. She trembled so hard her thighs pressed tighter around him, a silent, powerful confession.

​"I like how my name sounds on your lips," he murmured, turning his head slightly to kiss the pulse point he found.

​Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her heartbeat climbed, each thud sending warmth spiraling through her limbs. She could feel him beneath her, solid and hot, his restraint stretched thin as piano wire.

​"Luciano," she whispered again, softer this time, a plea.

​"You say my name like you’re afraid of what I’ll do," he whispered back. "But you’re still here. Sitting on me." His hand tightened on her waist, coaxing her hips a fraction closer. "Holding on to me like that."

​She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d grabbed him until he pointed it out. Her fingers curled even more, anchoring herself.

​His fingers slid up her sides, following the dip of her waist, the gentle curve of her ribs. His touch wasn’t crude—it was slow, studying, reverent in a way that made her heart thump unevenly. He seemed to be cataloging the geometry of her body.

​"I like you like this," he murmured. "Soft. Honest. Trembling for me."

​She squeezed her eyes shut, heat flooding her face. "Don’t say things like that."

​"Why not?" His lips traced the line of her collarbone, warm breath trailing behind. "They’re true. And I don’t lie about what I want."

​Her fingers dug into his shoulder reflexively. "You’re teasing me."

​"Oh, Paloma..." His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her forehead gently against his. "If I were truly teasing you, you’d be begging me to stop, or begging me to finish."

​He brushed her lips with his thumb, slow, tender, the faintest stroke of affection beneath all that hunger, guiding her gently—slowly—until her lips hovered just over his.

​Her pulse stumbled.

​Her breath hitched.

​He was about to kiss her. A real kiss.

​And then—

​Her stomach growled—a loud, rumbling, unapologetic sound that echoed in the immense room.

​The sound shattered the heat like a stone thrown through glass.

​Eloise froze in absolute horror, eyes going wide with mortification.

​Luciano stared at her for one heartbeat—

​Then burst into a low, helpless laugh, the sound warm, rich, and utterly unguarded in a way she had never heard before. It was the sound of a man momentarily stripped of his facade.

​"Well," he murmured, brushing her hair back as her mortification peaked, "I suppose even desire must bow to the monster in your stomach, Paloma. I forgot you haven’t eaten since you left your friend’s apartment."

​"Luciano..." she groaned, burying her burning face in her hands.

​He kissed the top of her head. "It’s alright. Let’s keep you from starving before you faint on me. We have all the time in the world for this, now that you’ve signed."

​He lifted her gently and set her on the bed. Eloise clutched the sheets, wishing the earth would open and swallow her whole. Luciano only shook his head in amusement as he crossed the room to turn on the bath taps.

​Moments later, he returned, scooping her up effortlessly. She made a small, startled sound—he only smirked.

​He carried her into the bathroom and eased her carefully into the warm water of the massive tub.

​"Stay," he said softly, his voice returning to its calm, possessive command. "I’ll get you something to eat. Do not leave the water."

​He turned to leave—

​But her voice caught him at the door.

​"Luciano... can I ask you a question?"

​He paused.

​Slowly turned.

​The shift was immediate—the soft humor dimming, the focused intensity sharpening, his attention narrowing onto her like she was the only thing that truly mattered in the world.

​"Of course," he said, voice low. "What do you want to ask me, Paloma?"

​Eloise sank a little deeper into the warm water, steam curling around her cheeks, but it did nothing to ease the knot of nerves twisting in her stomach. She watched him through the rising mist—broad shoulders, the loosened shirt, his powerful silhouette filling the doorway like he belonged in every space she breathed in.

​"Luciano..." she began softly.

​His attention snapped back to her instantly. The intensity in his gaze always startled her—focused, consuming, like she was the one thing in the world he didn’t allow himself to look away from.

​"Yes, Paloma," he murmured, urging her on.

​She hesitated, fingers curling over the edge of the tub.

​"How did you know I was going to run away... using a train?"

​Something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Amusement. Dark, knowing amusement laced with the pride of a genius.

​"Ah," he said slowly, stepping back into the bathroom. "That."

​He crouched beside the tub, elbows resting casually on his knees, his presence alone seeming to thicken the air and draw all the oxygen from the room.

​He shook his head slowly. "Your friend’s plan was... cute." His eyes lifted to hers, a glint of dark amusement in them. "But pointless."

​Eloise frowned. "How did you know it was Jayla’s plan and not mine?"

​Luciano arched a brow—mockingly, affectionately, arrogantly. "Oh really, Paloma?" He leaned closer, voice low and intimately amused.

​"If it were your plan," he said, brushing a finger along her jaw, "you’d have taken the bus. That same night. The moment you met Jayla. On pure, reckless impulse. No planning, no careful routes, just pure chaos. Your chaos is always immediate."

​Her lips parted in quiet shock. He was right. Exactly right.

​Luciano lowered himself closer, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. "The car was tracked, yes. But you weren’t found because of the car."

​Her brows drew together. "Then how—?"

​He tapped his temple, thumb grazing her cheek as if he were soothing her even while dismantling every illusion she had about her own capability to escape. "You were found because I saw you leave the apartment this morning. I had men watching the entire street."

​Her breath caught—part fear, part something she didn’t want to name: the terrible, intoxicating awareness of being seen and known. "So you followed me. You said no monitoring when you allowed me to go."

​"I never let you out of my sight," he corrected, voice silk sharpening to steel. "I gave you the illusion of freedom. That’s enough for a first date."

​He reached out, thumb brushing along her cheekbone with a tenderness that contradicted every dangerous word he’d just spoken. Warm. Slow. Familiar.

​"You chose the north line," he continued, voice low, smooth, intimately close. "Destination vague. Good strategy." His eyes dipped over her, appreciating her quietly. "The cap and hoodie... clever way to hide."

​A small, reluctant flutter of pride warmed her chest.

​"But that wasn’t where you slipped." His eyes darkened, not with anger, but with something far deeper—a truth that resonated with obsession. "Your mistake wasn’t the tracker, Paloma."

​His fingers moved to her chin, lifting her face until she had no choice but to meet him—blue-gray eyes locking onto hers with quiet, devastating certainty.

​"Your mistake," Luciano whispered, "was believing that five hundred miles could outdistance the reach of my memory."

​Her pulse fluttered wildly.

​He tilted her chin higher, the pads of his fingers warm, steady—possessive without needing force.

​"Look at me," he said softly.

​She did.

​"I know your height," he murmured. "The way you walk. The precise rhythm of your breath when you lie." His gaze lowered briefly to her lips before rising again. "And the scent of your shampoo—faint, sweet, impossible to forget."

​Eloise felt her throat tighten, her heart tripping over itself.

​"I could find you in a stadium of a hundred thousand people," His gaze dropped to her throat, her shoulders, the water rippling around her skin. "By the shadow you cast alone."

​Her heart pounded so hard the water trembled around her. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

​"Luciano..." she breathed, a simple recognition of his monstrous ability.

​He leaned even closer, his forehead nearly touching hers.

​"You can run," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers, "but you cannot disappear from me."

​His thumb slid from her chin to her jaw, to her throat, lingering there with a heat that made her knees weaken even underwater.

​"Not anymore."

​He let the words settle—slow, heavy, inescapable.

​Then:

​"Now," he murmured, voice dropping to something husky and intimate, "ask me the real question you’re afraid to ask."