Christian

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A/N: I'm sure this is never the intention, but I just wanted to tell you guys that I can see your guys' reading list names so when you add my book to lists such as "Bad/Bored", I can actually see that, and it's not most considerate thing. I understand if you didn't know that we actually get notifications for these things, but it does affect me, and I'm sure others as well. This is also a general principle I want you all to keep in mind, I and many other authors do actually look through our comments, and criticism is really only appreciated, and often implemented, if it is constructive.

Please just be considerate to my fellow authors, as they all work very hard for you all.

Much love to my supporters as always,
Eleanor
~~~

"Vee! Blake! Get the fuck out here! Right now!" I hear my father's voice booming, jolting me awake and before I register what exactly the words are, he storms into my room, eyes frantic as he looks at mine and Luca's awakening figures.

Luca pulls my back further against his chesy, before realizing the intruder is my father, and perhaps that is not the best move.

He squeezes my waist to urge me further awake after he sits up, my father catches the action and I see something glint in his eyes, but before I can decipher what it is, it's gone.

"What the fuck?" I grumble, placing my hands in front of me and hoisting myself up, then flipping over to mimic Luca's sitting position against the headboard.

My father eyes us skeptically, then the duvet on top of us. "Are you two clothed?" Fucking Christ. I turn a violent shade of red and sink myself a little into the bed, hoping it will swallow me whole as I look up to the ceiling, unwilling to look at either of their faces.

"Yes, dad. We are clothed." I drag out the 's' and keep my gaze locked on the ceiling, as my father just hums a little bit.

"Okay well then both of you get the fuck up. We have a problem." I glance at Luca, who's attention is now focused solely on my dad, a knit between his brows showing concern, that my father usually never carries. "Meet us in the living room." And then leaves the room, but leaves the door wide open.

My face still feels incredibly hot, and I force myself to look away from Luca to hide my beet red face. But then I feel a weight press on top of me, and look up to see Luca hovering over me, his grin widening when he takes in my appearance. "So fucking adorable." He shakes his head but his grin never fades.

I huff. "Shut the fuck up." Then I somehow push him off me and get out of the bed, not sparing a glance over my shoulder but able to hear his chuckles from behind me.

Normally, I would not appreciate being ordered around, especially by my father, but right now, I'll suck it up, sensing the urgency in my father's words and expression.

I walk towards the closet and rummage around in the furthest drawer for a sweatshirt, finally settling on a large crew neck, and holding it up for stain inspection. When I find that it is, in fact, spotless, I shove it on over my head, then untuck my hair which had gotten folded in the back of the neck hem.

I register that fucking scent of Luca's that I've grown so used to, then feel him pressed against me. He tugs the back of my shorts down, which had ridden up through the night, and I swear I hear a grunt from him, an odd mix of both pleasure and displeasure in it. Quite the combination.

Luca LaurentWhere stories live. Discover now