บททั้งหมดของ The Way He Looked at Me: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Tyler Bennett povLuca doesn’t look like himself anymore. He looks like someone else entirely someone dangerous, unfamiliar, and devastatingly magnetic. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, brows drawn low as if restraint has slipped clean away. There’s an ease in the way he moves toward me, a crooked, effortless smile that isn’t usually there, and it makes my pulse riot.“Open up, Princess,” he murmurs.His hands land on my knees and force them apart, rough and unapologetic. The sharpness of it scrambles my thoughts. I’m already burning raw, overexposed, every nerve ending lit. I’ve been like this for hours. Since the restaurant. Since he let me slide my foot between his and neither of us pretended not to feel the heat that sparked between us. I saw it on his face then the war in his head. He knew he should stop me. Wanted to. And couldn’t. That weakness in him set me on fire.The kiss ruined me completely. And what he did to my mouth pushed me past the edge of control. I’m shaking

Luca Moretti povI find my pants folded with surgical precision at the foot of the bed. The curtains are cracked open just enough to let daylight bleed in. It’s bright too bright. Late morning, at least. I dress fast and head downstairs.Bennett’s been busy.The house looks nothing like it did the last time I was here. The hardwood floors are darker now, richer like they’ve been scorched and polished back to life. The railings, ceilings, skirting boards all sharp white, clean enough to hurt your eyes. It’s good. Too good.I’m not sure how I missed all of this last night, but if I’m being honest, the explanation probably involves the most dangerous mouth I’ve ever trusted with my dick. Or his ass. One of the two.The ugly yellow-and-blue floral wallpaper is still here, which surprises me. I doubt Alessia would approve. But the art Jesus. The art changes everything.The hallway is lined with photographs. Large. Moody. Men and women suspended underwater, naked or nearly so, wrapped in fl

Luca Moretti povTyler Bennett is in one of those moods the dangerous kind. The kind that doesn’t care about boundaries or labels, the kind that pretends the fact that he isn’t my boyfriend is a minor inconvenience at best. He’s been haunting my phone all day. Before I even crawled out of bed. At the airport. In the air. On the bus. In the hotel lobby. Relentless. Unapologetic. The messages started soft, sweet enough to sink under my skin and linger there, but with every passing hour they darkened, sharpened, turned wicked until resistance stopped being an option and became a lie I told myself to feel sane.Now we’re alone in a Dallas hotel room. The kind of room you forget the moment you leave. Beige walls. Lifeless light. A view that says nothing. But the room itself? It’s charged. Thick with tension. Tyler stands in the center of it like a sin waiting to be committed, shirt discarded, confidence dripping off him in slow, deliberate waves. His eyes are darker than they should be, pi

I blink, and the world spins back into focus like a storm of color unraveling slowly. Dark eyes wide, wild, urgent lock onto mine, and a heavy hand presses hard against my chest, grounding me. The green sea of jerseys closes in, a wave of bodies pressing from every angle. I’m still sprawled on the ice, my lungs sharp with the sting of impact. And then he’s there. Luca. The first to reach me.“Tyler!” His voice cuts through the chaos, raw and desperate, repeating my name until I can grab hold of it. His hands cage my helmet, firm and unrelenting, keeping me from moving, from doing something stupid. “Are you okay, baby?”Around us, the world fractures into motion refs, medics, teammates. Carter and Jace shove the surrounding players back, snapping, “Give him some space!” Luca doesn’t flinch. He’s a tether in the storm.“I’m fine,” I grit out, trying to push off the ice, to prove it.

He pulls me closer as I chew, his mouth finding my neck.“It was really romantic, Luca.”“It wasn’t romantic,” I mutter. “It was unhinged.”He grins wild, crooked, beautiful. Like someone who belongs in the same dark place I do. “That’s what made it romantic, baby.”He kisses me again, sweet and warm, and I forget I’m angry. Forget the house. Forget the game. Forget everything except him, his taste, his heat, the way Tyler Bennett undoes me.When we finally breathe, he rests his forehead against mine. “So,” he says softly, “are you ever going to tell me why you started hating me? I thought we were good. Back at that junior camp, I thought we clicked.” His voice dips. “I’ve replayed it a hundred times. I know I must’ve done something. I just…never figured out what.”The kiss has me drunk. Or maybe it’s the way he’s standing so close, open, honest, hopeful. Like he already trusts me with things I don’t deserve to hold.“I