LUCA (Leaves of a Maples Book 5)

by Haley Jenner

  LUCA

  Leaves of a Maple #4

  Haley Jenner

  Edited by

  Ellie McLove

  Copyright

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright 2018 Haley Jenner. All rights reserved.

  Published by Haley Jenner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: ellie McLove

  Cover Model: Brooks Nickel

  Photographer: Victor Ozuna

  Editor: ellie at My Brother’s Editor

  This book is intended for those 18 years and older. It contains content of an adult nature.

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  For Brendon

  because, well, unicorns….

  Acknowledgments

  J and I have spoken a lot about acknowledgments, and how many people actually read them. It warmed my heart to realize how many of you do. Creating a story doesn’t just involve the two of us. There are so many important people that contribute to the journey of a book release, and well after, and it’s incredibly important that everyone is acknowledged for their contribution.

  We’re starting to think this section should be renamed AcELLIEdgments. Get it? Ellie. *cue snare drum* J tried to make me delete this. I refused, because it’s hilarious.

  ellie. Once again, your work and dedication to all things Haley Jenner far outweighs our ability to adequately thank you. Know that deep in our soul, we’ll die trying to express our endless gratitude. The incredible work you do for us aside; in both editing and cover design… we want to thank you for the belief you have in us. This world can be as daunting as all hell, but from the get-go, the confidence and belief you have had in our work means more to us than you could ever possibly know. On the days when we want to give up, when we question our worth as an author, thank you for believing. Thank you for giving us the confidence to continue living this dream. Our friendship is one we’ll cherish forever, and we can’t express how excited we are to eat breakfast at dinner time, drink copious amounts of alcohol and talk books, and laugh at memes in person. We’re counting down the days. Love you.

  To the amazing authors who have shown us unwavering support as we continue through this journey, THANK YOU. The writing process can be a lonely one at times, nerve-wracking at others, and the kindness and support you gift us is one of the things we cherish most. Special shout out to Kathy Coopmans and Marley Valentine, who have become two of our most favorite people in the world. Thank you for being you, we’re grateful for you both each and every day.

  Samara. Would you believe I found another word that rhymes with Amigo? Keto. But also, that dessert was fucked, and we, unfortunately, can’t untaste it. We tried. We did. Love you, friend. Thanks for headlining our cheer squad. Know we have your back in the same way you do us. #VegasBaby

  To the beautiful souls that make up our reader’s group #GroupTherapy; my god how we love you. Thank you for engaging, sharing, and being such a big part of our lives. Gosh, we hope you know how important you all are to us. Thank you for brightening our days, for bringing smiles to our faces, and laughter to our lives. We hope one day we get to squeeze each and every one of you. Also, #TeamHForLife.

  To every reader who has ever taken a chance on our books. We LOVE you. So much. We’re living our dream because of each and every one of you, and we’re beyond grateful.

  Would you believe that at one point at the very beginning we never planned a story for Luca? He was just going to be a random in a bar. It’s almost frightening to admit… but luckily, he had other ideas, and boy did that Viking bury deep in our hearts. We knew he deserved his happily ever after, and we knew it had to be someone incredibly special to give it to him. Frankie is a light in this book, one that kept on shining. We hope you enjoy Luca and Frankie’s journey to find themselves, it’s kind of one of our favorites.

  One more thing, Jen, babe, we’re sorry… Luca made us do it. Everyone else, any Jen in this novel does not, by any means reflect any real Jen we know. Jen is rad, we love Jen. Real Jen, not book Jen. You know, just to clarify.

  Much love, as always,

  H and J x

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Trey

  Luca and Frankie’s Playlist

  About the Author

  Other Books by Haley Jenner

  Connect with Haley Jenner

  Chapter One

  Luca

  My lips meet the wet top of my beer bottle, my eyes not daring to move away from the brunette laughing loudly at the bar. The laugh is genuine enough, amusement dancing across her features, but her body language is clear, back the fuck off. The dickhead vying for her attention doesn’t seem to get it, edging into her space every time she purposefully takes a step back. She’s quick, every attempted brush of his hand against hers, thwarted by her speedy ability to move out of reach, once again, just in time. It’s a practiced ability, one she’s artfully crafted through years and years of situations similar to this one. Male attention being thrown at her at any given opportunity, a curse provided by the appeal of her beauty.

  I’ve seen attractive women in my life. Loads of them. All different. All appealing in different ways. Beautiful faces. Smoking bodies. Heartbreaking smiles. Pretty dimples. Sing-song laughs. Tempting personalities; whether it be through fire or sweetness. Explosive sex. But rarely do you get it all. There always seems to be a catch. Beautiful face but blackness in their soul. Smoking bodies but a screech of laughter that you just can’t unhear. Explosive sex with someone when the attraction just isn’t there.

  She has it all.

  Beautiful face. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. No flaw to be found, eyes so dark they’re almost black, complexion so perfect, she doesn’t seem real.

  Smoking body. Enough to make the strongest of men drop to their knees. Effortlessly slender, with the hint of worked at muscle showcased on any slight movement of her body. Curves where they matter most; tits, ass, hips.

  Heartbreaking smile and pretty dimples. Wide. Infectious. Her whole face alight with joy when she willingly gives over to the gesture. The indents pierced deep in her skin framing her smile in a way that you crave to touch.

  Sing-song laugh. Like music. Loud without being showy, rolling through her body and from her mouth like silk, the sound delicate in the same way it’s definite.

  From openly watching her, even from a distance, I see fire in her personality, the kind that can go either way. Explosive and unhinged or passionate, but down-to-earth, balanced. I see crazy in her for sure. Just can’t determine if it’s the good type of crazy or the cut and fucking run type crazy. If I’m honest th
ough, neither would scare me off, not for what I’d want to use her for.

  Which brings me to the sex. The way her body moves in its fluidity, how in-tune it is with every action her muscles make. She dances with every maneuver. A simple smile or her walk, it’s done to the melody held within her head. She knows how to use her body. Add that to her brand of crazy and, fuck me, sex like you couldn’t imagine. Fire. Passion. Unbridled need.

  I watch the douche she’s talking to touch her arm again, her face tightening with irritation as she pulls it back on a shake of her head. He persists though, moving closer as she steps back. Not done to intimidate her, the guy’s wasted and isn’t reading her cues.

  Her eyes scan the packed bar, looking for someone to save her from the situation. It’s purposeful and I feel a wave of disappointment that she’s clearly here with someone else.

  Her gaze flicks past me but is immediately drawn back, anchoring our stare. A slow forming smile spreads along her face, her white teeth on perfect display as her dimples kiss her cheeks, heightening the bone structure and emphasizing her beauty even more. If that’s possible.

  I feel the twitch of my own lips, my hand moving the beer balancing on my bottom lip away, dropping it to my side so she can see me as clearly as I can her. Douchebag next to her touches her arm once again and she breaks our bind, only briefly to shake her head, indicating to me with a slight tilt of her head. Her teeth skate over her bottom lip, her body pushing off the bar as her eyes meet mine once again.

  She moves in fast and fluid movements, her feet skirting effortlessly through the crowd, her eyes pinned to mine. She drops her glass, still half full, on the first available surface. Taking her cue, I do the same, discarding my beer at the table to my right.

  Without pause, she reaches me, arms wrapping around my neck as she jumps, circling my waist with her lithe legs. Our introduction is silent, my hands cupping her perfectly peached shaped ass, pulling her farther into my body, my eyes taking inventory of every minute detail of her face.

  Flawless. As expected.

  “Hiya,” she finally speaks, her voice like I imagined, a song, an added rasp, layering it in a way that makes my cock twitch in my jeans.

  Her eyes are focused on my lips, waiting for my response and I smile then, my lips stretching broadly to accommodate the involuntary gesture. Her face lightens in triumph, my smile giving her the outcome she clearly desired.

  “Crazy Girl,” I greet, and she finally meets my eyes.

  She blinks slowly, an unconditioned response to the jolt of electricity firing through the small expanse of air between us. I can’t pull myself away from her stare; peculiar shaped eyes, almost cat-like, their shade a cast of midnight. They’re the most terrifyingly attractive pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. They frighten me, their depth of knowledge as she watches me, unguarded for an indeterminable length of time.

  A soft sigh finally breaks from her lips and without warning, she kisses me. Just a soft caress of the satin pad of her lips as they brush against mine.

  “Brave move. Handsy over there might get jealous.” I move us a step backward, not caring to dart my eyes to the wanker who moments earlier held her consideration, her face; eyes, lips, everything, dominating my attention.

  Her pink tongue darts out, wetting the mouth that moments ago was touching mine and I feel crazed with my want to taste her tongue.

  “Handsy over there doesn’t seem to understand the word no. He had that creepy look in his eye, he was totally ready to start groping.” Her mouth twists distastefully, a horrified grimace stretching her lips. “Lucky, my husband, that’s you,” she whispers, eyes darting to the side, making certain her secret stays contained. “Showed up when he did, rescuing me from Edward-fucking-creepy-hands over there.”

  “Ahhh,” I nod slowly, my lips twitching in amusement. “Reason for the theatrics.” I squeeze her ass. “Nice touch.”

  She tightens her legs around my waist, bringing her warmth harder against my stomach. “Oh no, Viking. You are next level delicious, this was all for me.”

  My laugh rumbles from deep within my stomach, causing her back to arch as she works to feel the sound against her apex. Jesus. I knew she was crazy, but she’s succeeding pretty hard at pulling me into crazy town with her.

  I turn, her body still tightly wrapped around mine and move through the dimly lit bar, pushing past clusters of people in search of somewhere darker. She comes without complaint or question, her eyes glued to my face. I push my way through to the very back corner of the bar, bodies jumping and moving in time with the rich croon of the band.

  Fitting her firmly against the wall, the shadow of her eyes possesses me, and I can’t find it in me to break our stare. I know literally nothing about this woman, save the feel of her ass in my hands and I’m spellbound. Unable to fight the unparalleled pull she seems to have over me. I lean in close, licking along the seam of her lips, tasting her. “You know, I could be an axe murderer.”

  She follows my lead, her tongue darting out to tickle mine. “So could I.”

  The humor in her teasing is lost to the intense lust forcing her chest to heave heavily between us. I groan. Loudly, giving over to what I want and closing my mouth completely over hers. She welcomes the first strong stroke of my tongue eagerly, her own meeting mine in excited exploration. I feel her moan more than hear it, the sound lost in the music throbbing around us. It vibrates against my tongue though, and I push against her harder, needing more of her pressed along my body.

  I’ve spent the last few months losing myself in my misery. In women. In booze. In solidarity. Working my damnedest to find some form of reason for life.

  Losing my mom hit me harder than I thought it would. We weren’t close but watching the fragility of her life crack as death clawed its way closer and closer, perspective hit pretty hard. I’m man enough to admit, I was as cowardly as they come, I buried her and skipped town as fast as I fucking could.

  I’ve felt nothing but emptiness since. An overwhelming sense of loneliness. I was alone. Well and fucking truly. Luca St. Kelly had not one living relative, not one fucking person who was obligated to love me. Or me them in return.

  I’ve spent so long running from any form of love, the realization it was extinguished from my life was depressing as fuck.

  I’d been searching for some form of high, some sense of feeling, ever since. To no avail. Until right now. In a dark and dingy bar.

  Until her.

  Pressed up against someone who seems to be searching for something similar.

  Maybe that’s why this feels so right, so fucking good.

  I feel crazed with my need to touch her, to taste her, to feel her.

  Dragging my bottom lip between her teeth, she pauses our kiss, eyelids hooded as she drinks in my face, the lust pouring openly from me.

  We stand like that for a loaded minute, our chests heaving with every drag of air pulled into our lungs. Our eyes are hooked in an intense stare, something deeper than I’d like to admit passing between us.

  The music surrounding us drifts off into a soft melody until a beat of quiet resonates. I hear the quick intake of her breath, the deep swallow in my throat and a strum of a guitar hits and I can’t take it any longer, I angle my head, opening my lips against hers and she moans into my mouth, our tongues dancing heavily once again.

  My palm slides up the smooth skin of her outer thigh, inching into the denim shorts decorating her bottom half. I squeeze the naked skin of her ass. Like the rest of her, it’s fucking perfection.

  Ripping my lips from hers, I drag them along her jaw and she arches her neck, giving me greater access. I bite. I lick. I suck. Fuck, but do I want to mark her. I want the imprints of my teeth, the bruise of my lips tattooed into her skin. I want tomorrow, the day after and the day after that, for her to remember the desperation we both felt in this moment. The need coursing through our veins so thick, we, two strangers, were so drawn to one another, we fucked, quick and dirty in the corner of a
dingy bar because the thought of not touching was too ridiculous to entertain.

  Biting down on her collarbone, her soft, frenzied cry spirals through my eardrums like honey. Her lips caress the shell of my ear. “Fuck me,” she begs, the whisper of her words surging through my cock.

  Pulling my head back to catch her eyes, she lets me see her; hair mussed, eyes darkened with lust, lips swollen and agape. Fuck if she isn’t the most beautiful creature on the planet.

  “Please,” she cries softly, her gaze focused on my lips.

  Who the fuck am I to deny her? To deny myself?

  “Since you asked so nicely,” I groan, dropping my face into her neck to bite down.

  My hand moves down to unbutton her shorts, my hand slipping in behind to yank them over her ass.

  She laughs, the sound lost in the cry I rip from her throat as I drag my fingers over the damp panties covering the sweet spot I crave most.

  Unzipping my jeans, I watch her hand drop between us to pull her panties aside, her finger dipping inside her own damp heat, her eyes rolling back in bliss.

  “You gonna make yourself come, or you reckon you want my help?”

  She smiles, her lust drunk eyes opening lazily. Pulling her hand away from her eager little pussy, her fingers drag along my lips, letting me taste what I’m about to bury myself inside of.