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 my reverie, accompanied

I chuckle.

how wonderful my culinary skills

thinking about how

and forth, and it’s so…

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

about the man he’s supposedly

Chloe’s words echo in my mind—about how Karl

soul, and how all of it

sweet boyfriend to a more aloof husband. The

trepidation. This could all be an act. A way

to push those thoughts aside. Tonight, I want to believe in this

this gentle current of nostalgia and comfort. Just for tonight, I wish to be

again, laughing and joking with

him. “Thank you, Karl,” I say

genuine, warm

away the plates, placing them in

on the countertop, pulling

twirling the pen in my fingers, “time to finalize our order.

Karl starts listing off ingredients. “We

that s picy olive

I watch in amusement as he scuttles from one corner to

into containers, and being utterly relentless

out.

whirlwind,” I comment, half

at me from across the room. “Efficiency,

point, Karl comes closer, presumably to look

the sheen

long day, is touching. Maybe it softens me a

I beckon him closer, setting down

slow, measured pace. His closeness sends a

I reach out, wiping

such a trooper tonight,” I tell him softly.

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

I can stop him, Karl’s hand shoots out. His arm

together, husky and

murmurs. “I know you want me,

wrong. I do want him. Ever since I had that w et

made a promise to myself and to my friends that I would never

him, I can’t help it. He looks too hot in the dim light of the kitchen, with a sheen of sweat

up to reveal his sinewy forearms, for me to push

Before I know it, our lips are locked in an intense kiss. He

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

me in ways that Adam never

needed this. To be touched, wanted,

“Abby…”