2. Luca

Ichecked the address on my phone twice before I ordered a taxi.

Though, really, I didnt expect Thorn to whip this out four months in. I mean, obviously I’m going to leap at the chance to visit my boyfriend’s flat. Though, considering it took him a month to tell me he wore contacts, Im fucking over the moon that hes invited me.

We text back and forth, but it’s never the same as actually seeing my boyfriend blush whenever I tell him how fuckable he looks every single moment Im with him.

I havent been able to think about anything else all day, especially because he made the effort to come and meet me at my hotel room last night, fumbling around for half an hour before he finally went bright red and asked me to come over.

Ive got no idea what were doing. My boyfriend hasnt said hes planned anything, so Im going in totally blind and its seriously exciting.

I was in Thailand for two weeks on a shoot and finally got back last night. It’s really fucking difficult being away from him. Ive told my agent Im not doing overseas shoots anymore unless Thorn comes with me. But he doesnt like travelling, and hes booked up until Christmas, anyway.

To be honest, I think he likes the space and he’s too polite to say it. Im the one who cant stand being away from him. I just want to meld myself to him so we’re never apart.

Even though I’m sure Im going to piss my boyfriend off by turning up half an hour early, Im too excited to stay away. I did text him, but he hasn’t replied.

Im considering waiting outside for half an hour, so I don’t unnerve him, but I’m too desperate to see my boyfriend’s flat.

Im so fucking addicted to the word ‘boyfriend’, though. I literally want to buy him a name tag that says ‘Luca’s boyfriend’ so every single bastard knows how special he is to me.

After all the buildup of getting to his place, I didnt think Id crumple at the first hurdle. Because theres a wreath on his front door. A braided wooden wreath hanging bold against the dark green wood with a tiny yellow bird perched on the bottom. And it’s peering at me like Thorn does every time I go down on him, wide-eyed, as if he can’t believe it’s happening to him.

I can tell this is going to be a struggle.

Taking a deep breath, I knock, a gentle rap which echoes out in the cosily lit hallway around me.

He’s told me nothing about his place apart from his address, so Im just staring at this wreath, trying not to freak out over the fact my boyfriend is so fucking cute. And I haven’t even stepped through the front door.

Im grinning by the time the lock clicks. The door opens a crack, but not enough for me to see him.

“You came early,” he says flatly.

“Yeah, is that alright? I sent you a text. Did you get it? I can always hang out here for half an hour if you want?” I’m slipping into rambling territory already.

“No, I got the text…” There’s a stupidly long pause and before he replies. “It’s okay…”

It really doesn’t sound okay. The door opens further, revealing his dark hair as he straightens up and the gap widens. I shift my weight from foot to foot, so close to just shoving the door open so I can leap inside.

When the gap finally opens, the sight of him hits me so hard I nearly fall over.

“You’re-” I choke, swallowing my amazement as my gaze zeroes in on Thorn’s face. “You’re wearing glasses.” I say, my voice quivering as my bottom lip drops at the pure gorgeousness that is my boyfriend.

Im not even through the door and hes already swept me off my feet.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Thorn jerks as he quickly lifts a hand to his cheek. He gets that panicked look on his face when he thinks Im upset, but its so fucking far from the truth I cant believe it even crosses his mind. I literally care about nothing else right now than seeing thick-rimmed glasses riding the bridge of his long nose.

Until he steps back, opening the door fully, and I gasp. My hand shoots out, slamming against the door frame to hold myself up as I take in the fucking glory of Thorn in an apron. Not just an apron, a black apron emblazoned with a white cartoon kitten surrounded by pink love hearts.

My other hand clamps into a tight ball as I suck down my need to leap on him. I told myself we’d at least eat before we fucked, but holy shit, I don’t know how Im going to hold back when he looks like this.

Every time we meet up, hes always dressed immaculately. Designer brands and styled hair, and he has a super intense obsession with moisturiser. Whenever we stay at a hotel, he spends at least half an hour making sure he looks like a ‘real’ model before we leave. It’s so rare for him to be dressed casually that I’m straight up panting over him like a dog.

“I didnt have time to change.” Thorns throat bobs as his gaze slides from mine. “Do you mind waiting?”

“Not a fucking chance,” I say, mooning over all six-feet-five of him. Black sweats, a grey T and bare feet, topped off with his cute-ass apron hugging his thick hips. Yeah, hes only getting out of those clothes when I rip them off.

His eyes widen in surprise, and I bite the inside of my cheek as I realise Ive come on too strong. I need to calm the fuck down.

“Thorn, baby, you look so fucking sexy right now. Honestly, you know how much I love seeing you all ruffled up.” Though it was usually either during or after sex. “Now, come on, are you going to invite me in?”

He bites his bottom lip, and I nearly moan. Shy Thorn is one thing. Shy Thorn in an apron and glasses is on a whole other level.

“So, would…” He clears his throat, pink scattering his cheeks as he shuffles from one foot to the other. “Would you like to come in?”

Of course I fucking would. Why does he think I’d come?

“That would be great, yeah,” I say instead, lightening my smile, hoping I dont look like a lunatic. My eye is already starting to twitch.

Thorn disappears behind the door as he steps aside, letting me pass. I come to a sudden stop the moment I stand next to him, chest tight, my clenched fist growing numb as my nails dig into my palm and I try to fucking breathe.

I’ve always wanted to know what kind of place Thorn lived in. Before our Calvin Klein shoot, I used to think he had no taste, that he probably lived in a beige box with beige furniture, beige pictures hanging on the wall and fucking beige clothes. My idea’s changed now I know how much he loves to cuddle, which I am totally on board with. Maybe pastel pillows and soft throws, a recliner by the window so he can silently admire the skyline and contemplate life with a book or crossword or something else serene and uncomplicated.

What I didn’t expect was an entire fucking jungle.

“Sorry,” he mumbles from behind me. “It’s a bit messy.” He carefully closes the door before silently standing next to me. All while my mind is fucking blowing.

Because I had no clue Thorn likes plants.

Like, his living room is simple enough. A nice warm space with a terracotta shade couch, a wooden sideboard, matching coffee table, and all those other normal things normal people have. Except the entire place is covered in green.

Not just green. Endless shades of green weave around the room as sunlight dances on them from a large window to our left.

I look up at him, and he shuffles, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs as his gaze flicks around the room. I fucking love that I can tell what he’s thinking now. It took me a month or two to get used to all his tiny facial expressions and actions, and there’s a lot Im still figuring out. But the corners of his lips rise and fall a touch as he looks at me for approval.

I know he’s trying to figure out if anything’s wrong. And I bloody adore the fact my boyfriend is proud of the giant trellis dominating the wall behind the sofa, covered in vines that bloom with delicate purple flowers. That a sea of macrame pots with spider plants hanging from the ceiling like floating islands is ‘a bit messy’. Or that every surface is loaded with different plants in pots that match the sofa, from huge bushy things to minute bubbly ones I could hold between my fingers might be a problem. Or even that there’s a giant fucking palm tree scraping the high ceiling, casually tucked in the corner behind his TV.

“Wow, this is just… It’s amazing,” I say, drinking it all in. I reach for his hand instantly. There’s not a single chance Im letting him think there’s anything wrong with this. “It’s perfection.”

Im so tempted to tease him, wind him up so I can push him onto his plush sofa and make him moan. I’m so ready for it, and, goddamn, do I like making him squirm. But the moment’s too tense to try it on. It’s one of those moments that can make or break the evening. Weve had so many awkward conversations since we first started dating, and its taken us time to find our balance. Im not letting the dickhead side of my personality get in the way.

Thorn gives me a hard nod as I look up at him again. He’s gazing at me with his shiny-eyed look that means he’s so fucking happy he doesn’t know what to do with himself. I’m making a vow right now that I’m going to bring him flowers every time I see him.

I told myself to give him space and make him comfortable, but I can’t do it when his fingers are squeezing me like he does whenever he needs reassurance.

I lean into him, bringing my free hand up to his neck, burying my fingers in his smooth brown hair so I can lower him down to me. He lets out a tiny gasp of surprise, then instantly relaxes as I gently kiss him. “I mean it, Thorn,” I say against his lips. “It’s beautiful.”

He sighs, relaxing more than I thought he might in the first five minutes, and I grin as I nudge his nose with mine. I’m about to tell him there is absolutely no way we aren’t ending the night with his cock inside me, but a ding comes from a doorway to my left.

His hands drop as he jumps back. “I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly, his bottom lip plump and pink, ready to taste in a way that drives me absolutely insane whenever we’re together. “I haven’t finished cooking.”

A burst of joy bubbles up through me and I laugh, the sound beating out of my chest, my hand twitching over the back of his neck.

“You’re cooking!? Really?” I can’t even remember the last time someone actually wanted to cook for me.

A cloud rushes over his face, and the proud Thorn disappears as I fuck up again. I dont want to be the one to take away his smile, not anymore.

I need to remember how huge this is for him, how huge it is for both of us.

“That’s just amazing, Thorn,” I say with a happy sigh. “Do you know how special that is to me?” I step in closer, rising to the balls of my feet to properly stroke his hair, nearly melting at the way he bends to my touch.

“Come on, tell me what you’re making,” I say softly, my fingers dancing along the shell of his ear. I grin as his eyes flutter closed.

Theres a pause and another little blush fans across his cheeks.

“Baked squid frittata from La Boqueria,” he mumbles, as I lower myself. “Ive tried to make it authentic for you.”

I pause, searching his face. The last time I was in La Boqueria market was two years ago on a shoot in Barcelona. And I haven’t found a place thats done it quite right since. Though Ive never told him that.

He opens his eyes, staring at me intensely as a teasing tone enters my voice. “Thorn, baby, how do you know that’s my favourite food?”

He clears his throat as he straightens, the pink of his cheeks deepening to red as his chin dips, trying to hide from me. But he’s so tall it doesn’t work, and just makes my grin wider.

“Well, you posted it online a while ago,” he mutters.

I’m trying to think back to the last time I actually posted anything. I gave up my account ages ago and let my manager run it now. All she does is stick up sexy pictures of me, which isnt exactly hard.

It must have been fucking years. So, how did he find out about it?

Before I can ask, Thorn’s eyebrows shoot up, and he blinks heavily, his chest expanding as he sucks in a harsh breath. He steps out of my arms, dragging his gaze to the kitchen.

“I have to check on the food,” he says, spinning and shooting off through the door, and I sigh as he vanishes.

I mean, yeah, it stings when he does it, but thank fuck I know why. I used to get so offended when he ran away from me until a couple of months ago. But knowing your boyfriend is so attracted to you that he needs space to process is a total head rush.

Besides, every time we fuck afterwards, he’s usually ten times hornier because he’s had time to prepare. One of the few things I expect whenever we meet is that hell bolt at least once. And he always comes back if I give him time.

I’m basically vibrating as my eyes swept the room, taking in every tiny detail of my boyfriends flat. Thorn’s really letting me into his private life and its so fucking special I cant stay still.

Well, of course, we’re dating, so it was bound to happen, but it’s so much better than I dreamt. It always is with Thorn. And it’s getting easier as we learn to trust each other, less running away, less avoiding difficult emotions. Sometimes it’s an effort to remember that Thorn’s love language is straight up staring in silent concentration.

Every time I’m with Thorn, he ends up showing me something new about himself. And inviting me to his flat is like he’s sharing one of his biggest secrets with me. I couldn’t have predicted this blooming garden, and I’m pretty sure part of me would have called bullshit if he’d told me about the plants before I arrived.

It totally explains why he doesn’t like doing overseas jobs, as well.

I stand in the middle of his living room, trying to absorb it all. He has a guitar fixed on the wall by the kitchen door, a wind chime hanging in a doorway that leads to what I guess is his bedroom. Modelling magazines on his coffee table, and I’m about to inspect a photo of two men beside the TV on my right when I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye.

My head snaps left and my gaze lands on the glass tank next to the sofa, half-hidden by another pot plant.

Something moves in the shadow of one of those full on hanging plants, and theres no way Im not going to snoop.

I throw another look at the kitchen door before I carefully creep over. There’s a bright yellow eye staring at me from behind the glass, blinking slowly, just watching me, fucking judging me.

The tank is such a dark green it’s almost black. Im peering in, trying to figure out whats in there. Until there’s a click, and I jump as a light switches on above me.

“What the hell?” I whisper as the entire tank lights up to reveal a tortoise or a turtle or something with a shell chewing on a piece of lettuce. It doesn’t even bother with me, and just keeps on chomping away as I lean in to inspect it more closely.

Rude.

If I ever thought Thorn would have a pet, it would be one of these guys. Slow, chill, happy to get on with its own business, absolutely no fuss.

“That’s Josephine,” Thorn says quietly from behind me. I quickly whip around, my heart shuddering again at the thick glasses and cute apron I’m dying to pull off of him or slip under.

“What?” I ask.

“My tortoise,” he says before he twists his lips, stepping closer. “I…” His lips perk up as he looks at the tank and then back at me. I’m next to him right away, taking his hand again, telling him its all okay. It’s so fucking hard not to rub myself up on him when he’s trying to say something important.

“What is it?” I ask with a smile, waiting for him to answer. It drove me insane when we first started dating that I need to be patient with him, but its always so, so worth it.

“I’m sorry I didnt tell you.” He bites his lip, holding my gaze.

I swallow my laugh. I dont want him to think I’m making fun of him again. I hope he realises now that every time I laugh it’s because I love him so fucking much that I don’t know how else to show him apart from laughing or leaping on him. And I haven’t even properly told him how I feel. People write hundreds of songs, poems and books about how difficult it is to say ‘I love you’, but I never believed them until now.

“Why are you sorry? It’s totally fine.” I honestly enjoy it so much more when he shows me these things naturally. Like, last month, I was bitching about my sister and, after an hour of self-absorbed ranting, he finally told me a little bit about his mum. But he choked up so hard I had to stop him and we spent the whole night cuddling, which was fucking bliss.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you wanted…” he sighs slowly and rubs the back of his neck as his chin dips to the floor.

“Wanted what?” I encourage him on with another squeeze of his hand.

“A pet,” he says so quietly I nearly miss it.

Fucking hell, the hits just keep coming and coming.

I hold on to him, trying not to clench too tightly as my heart fucking implodes. I keep my breaths low, blinking away the stupid tears threatening at the corners of my eyes Thorn always triggers when he says romantic shit. And he’s staring at me expectantly, not realising how much it means for him to say something like that.

Ive never been with someone who wants to give so much of themselves to me.

We’re both just looking at each other, and Ive totally blanked. I’m about to straight up tell him how much I fucking adore him, but I pussy out.

Ive said it before, loads of times, to loads of different people. Ive been with guys whove told me they loved me even before we hooked up. But Thorn is so fucking special and I can’t even deal with the thought he might run if I push my feelings onto him. It’s fucking terrifying thinking about what might change if I say it and he gets alarmed, even though Ive already convinced myself we’ll be fine. It just might get a bit awkward for a while.

When he says anything like that, I swear he feels the same, that he loves me too. It’s that sliver of doubt, that tiny piece of me that hovers on the ‘what if?’. Because what if he doesn’t actually love me as much as I love him? What if he doesnt feel as strongly as I do?

I rub my thumb over his, grinning up at him. “Thorn, baby, do you know how much that turns me on? Ive wanted a pet for fucking years.”

He gets that gorgeous startled baby bird look, blinking so quickly Im sure he’s going to burst. “Really?” he says on a rushed breath, his eyes shining, one hand pressing lightly to his stomach as his shoulders relax.

“Seriously. Years. Will you introduce me?”

Thorn pauses, his gaze jumping between the tank and me before twisting his head back to the kitchen.

“I have to check the frittata again,” he says, dropping a quick kiss on my cheek that makes my toes curl. “Ill be back in a minute.”

He gives me the cutest smile before stepping away, retreating to the kitchen. I chuckle to myself as he disappears through the door.

Im literally the luckiest person in the world.

What I like most about his place is that it’s snug. It makes it even easier to picture us wrapped up on the couch, or eating breakfast at the table I can see through the kitchen doorway, or spending the day fucking in bed with nothing in our way.

And speaking of the bedroom…

My attention swings back to the wind chime, curious about the shadowy cavern beyond. It looks as if it’s from Mexico, with a terracotta Aztec sun with square patterns between the spikes, with long silver chimes hanging from it. He hates noise, and he must hit his head on it every time he walks in there, so why does he have it?

I swerve past a macrame pot, a stray leaf brushing my ear as I make a beeline for it. Ive been dying to see Thorn’s bedroom since we first fucked, and I’m seconds away from sneaking inside when a sound drifts towards me from the kitchen.

I freeze, my eyes glazing over as I stare straight ahead at absolutely nothing, my heart fucking skyrocketing, blood rushing straight to my cock. All my attention is suddenly fixed on that sound.

The loudest noise Ive ever heard from Thorn is his cry when I make him come. The softest is his gentle breaths as he sleeps. His choked out sentences, his awkward stutters, the way he pushes through to speak to me even though I can see how fucking difficult it is for him. I love them. I love every single sound Thorn makes, but I’ve never heard him hum before.

I spin on one foot, hoping the wooden floorboards won’t squeak. It only takes me thirty seconds to get to the kitchen door, but I’m worried I’ll fuck it up and hell stop.

Leaning against the doorframe, my heart fucking races as I watch him.

Thorn has his back to me, obviously fiddling with something on the counter in front of him. The bow of his apron rides right over his lower back, the tail ends curving over his ass perfectly.

He stretches out an arm, picking up a pot of black pepper, grinding it over whatever’s in front of him.

Thorn’s moving around the kitchen, totally confident, no hesitation at all.

And he’s humming.

My boyfriend is fucking humming.

And I know exactly why.

I press my lips together, trying not to get overwhelmed over how special he’s making me feel.

No one has ever been so happy to have me in their house that they sing, and I never once expected that I would hear it from my bloody boyfriend, the quietest person I know.

“Thorn…” I fasten my hand to the doorframe next to my hip, holding on for support as I try to keep calm. “What are you doing?”

He twists his body, blushing, ruining me for the third time. “Oh!” he chokes with a look of surprise. “Sorry, I didnt realise.” Uncertainty crosses his face that I have to wipe away instantly. “Is it annoying? Should I stop?”

I shake my head. Now Im the one whos speechless. I really hope he doesn’t think like that again. Because everything he does is a fucking treat.

And I can’t handle it anymore. Glasses, apron, plants, a pet, and now bloody humming and blushing.

“There’s only so much I can take, baby,” I say, my voice low as my fingers dig into the white paint of the doorframe.

Which is the wrong thing to say when he’s already so self-conscious.

“What do you mean?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“I mean, I need you to turn the fuck around so I can kiss you.”