Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 52: Too Close
Abby

Sitting in the dimly lit kitchen, the soft clinking of our utensils is a comforting lullaby against the

evening’s silence. I sneak glances at Karl every now and then, his features illuminated with a gentle

glow from the overhead light. He seems lost in his thoughts, enjoying every bite.

“This pasta turned out really well,” he murmurs, drawing my attention.

I chuckle, twirling another mouthful onto my fork. “Team effort, remember?”

Karl smiles. “Yes, but I think someone here had the magic touch, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

Laughing lightly, I shake my head. “You flatter too much, Mr. Know-It-All.”

As I twirl the spaghetti around my fork, Karl’s gaze meets mine, a hint of mirth in his eyes. “You know,”

he begins, pausing for effect, “I never thought I’d see the day where you’re more engrossed in your

food than in giving orders.”

I feign shock, clutching my chest. “Mr. Karl, are you insinuating that I’m bossy?”

His laughter fills the room, its rich timbre a comforting note in the ambiance of our intimate dinner.

“Never, Miss Abby. Simply observing,” he winks.

Giggling, I take a playful swipe at him with my napkin. We continue this light banter, laughing over silly

anecdotes and shared memories. With each passing minute, my guard slips a little further.

I hate myself for it, for being so easily lulled into this contentment. For being so comfortable and at

peace in Karl’s presence.

As I reach for my glass of water, my fingers brush against his.

I can’t help but notice the warmth of his touch, and how his skin feels against mine—strong yet gentle.

In the dim light of the kitchen, he looks… captivating. The way the soft glow accentuates the rugged

contours of his face, the spark in his eyes, and that boyish charm that lurks just beneath his often stern

exterior—it’s all disarmingly handsome.

I can’t deny it any longer, how easy it is to get lost in the moment with him. To forget about our

differences, about the hurt of the past, and simply revel in the now. The pull is magnetic, almost primal,

and it scares me just how much I’m drawn to him.

Karl’s voice interrupts my reverie,

my head slightly, I chuckle. “Sorry. Lost in

about how wonderful my culinary skills are?” he teases,

I reply, “More like thinking

back and forth, and it’s so… effortless. The laughter, the

word, every gesture, Karl’s being so

about the man he’s

as the evening progresses, Chloe’s words echo in

loving soul, and how all of

sweet boyfriend to a more aloof husband.

This could all be an act. A

I just want to push those thoughts aside. Tonight, I want to

drown in this gentle current of nostalgia and comfort.

laughing and joking with the man

the table, locking eyes with him. “Thank you, Karl,” I say softly,

a genuine, warm smile.

plates, placing them in the dishwasher. Jumping up,

countertop,

in my fingers, “time to finalize our order. Let’s hear

a beat, Karl starts listing off ingredients.

more of that

item. I watch in amusement as he scuttles from one corner

into containers, and being utterly relentless in

out.

a whirlwind,” I comment, half

across the room. “Efficiency, Abby. I learned

list grows, and at some point, Karl comes closer, presumably to look into a nearby cabinet.

sheen of sweat on

a long day, is

beckon him closer, setting

approaching with a slow, measured pace. His closeness sends a

reach out, wiping the

a trooper tonight,” I tell

momentary silence between us, punctuated only by our slightly uneven breaths.

out. His arm wraps itself

breaths mix together,

want me,” he murmurs. “I know you want

do want him. Ever since I had that w et drea m about him, I

I know that I made a promise to myself and

He looks too hot in the dim light of the kitchen, with

his sinewy forearms, for me to push him

us has to speak. Before I know it, our lips are locked in an intense kiss. He tastes sweet

and spices. A soft moan echoes between us as his tongue works its way

me in ways that Adam never

touched, wanted, loved. I haven’t felt

“Abby…”