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.

to Abby,” Karl’s voice interrupts

slightly, I chuckle. “Sorry. Lost in

culinary skills are?” he

I reply, “More like thinking

back and forth, and

glances. With every word, every gesture, Karl’s being so sweet, so genuine,

the man he’s

words echo in my mind—about how

and how all

sweet boyfriend to a more aloof husband. The haunting thought

could all be an

want to push those thoughts aside. Tonight,

drown in this gentle current of nostalgia

joking with the

locking eyes with him.

smiles, a genuine, warm

the meal, I clear away the plates, placing them in the dishwasher. Jumping up,

on the countertop,

the pen in my fingers, “time to finalize

Karl starts listing off ingredients. “We need rosemary, thyme,

tomatoes… more of that s picy olive

each item. I watch in amusement as

into containers, and

out.

whirlwind,” I comment, half

room.

some point, Karl comes closer, presumably to

the sheen of sweat on his

long day, is touching.

him closer, setting down the

pace. His closeness sends

a word, I reach out, wiping the sweat away with

been such a trooper tonight,” I tell

us, punctuated only by our slightly uneven breaths.

His arm wraps itself around my waist, pulling me

together,

want me,” he murmurs. “I know you

not wrong. I do want him. Ever since I had that

mind. I know that I made a promise to myself and to my friends that I

in the dim light of the

his sinewy forearms, for

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

A soft moan echoes between us as his tongue works

ways that

needed this. To be touched, wanted, loved. I

“Abby…”