Velvet Smoke & Gunmetal Hearts
Layla is standing too close to him.
She knows it the moment she stops moving, when the space between them shifts from accidental to deliberate. Luca doesn’t step back. He never does. He only looks down at her, dark eyes steady and unreadable, as if he’s been waiting to see whether she’d do exactly this.
“You’re doing it again,” he says quietly.
“Doing what?” Her voice gives her away—soft, breathless.
“Standing where you shouldn’t.” His gaze drops briefly to her mouth. “And pretending you don’t know.”
Heat coils low in her stomach. “Maybe I don’t care.”
That gets his attention. Something sharp flickers across his expression—control tightening.
He reaches out slowly, giving her time to pull away. She doesn’t. His fingers hook lightly under her chin, tilting her face up. The touch is barely there, but it steals her breath all the same.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “That’s not something you say to men like me.”
“Why?” she whispers. “Because you might misunderstand?”
His thumb traces her jaw, deliberate. “No,” he says. “Because I won’t.”
His hand stays there, steady, grounding. She feels the restraint in him now—the effort it takes not to close the distance completely.
“There are lines I don’t cross lightly,” Luca says. “And once I do, Layla, I don’t step back.”
She swallows. “Then why are you still here?”
He leans in just enough that his breath ghosts her skin.
“Because you haven’t asked me to.”