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.

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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

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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.

“Earth to Abby,” Karl’s voice interrupts my reverie, accompanied by a chuckle.

Shaking my head slightly, I chuckle. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”

“Thinking about how wonderful my culinary skills are?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Laughing, I reply, “More like thinking about how to recreate this sauce.”

Throughout the meal, we continue our back and forth, and it’s so… effortless. The laughter, the light

touches, the shared glances. With every word, every gesture, Karl’s being so sweet, so genuine, that I

almost forget about the man he’s supposedly become.

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But as the evening progresses, Chloe’s words echo in my mind—about how Karl used to be this kind,

gentle, and loving soul, and how all of it changed after the wedding.

The transformation from this sweet boyfriend to a more aloof husband. The haunting thought makes my

heart clench in trepidation. This could all be an act. A way to get me back.

However, tonight, I just want to push those thoughts aside. Tonight, I want to believe in this version of

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

carefree girl again, laughing and joking with the man she once loved deeply.

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

He smiles, a genuine, warm smile. “Always, Abby. Always.”

Once we finish the meal, I clear away the plates, placing them in the dishwasher. Jumping up, I seat

myself on the countertop, pulling my notepad closer.

“Alright,” I begin, twirling the pen in my fingers, “time to finalize our order. Let’s hear it.”

Without missing a beat, Karl starts listing off ingredients. “We need rosemary, thyme, some fettuccine,

canned tomatoes… more of that s picy olive oil.”

I scribble quickly, noting down each item. I watch in amusement as he scuttles from one corner to the

other, checking shelves, peeking into containers, and being utterly relentless in ensuring nothing’s left

out.

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“You’re like a whirlwind,” I comment, half laughing.

Karl winks at me from across the room. “Efficiency, Abby. I learned from the best.”

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

when I notice the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

His dedication to help me, especially after a long day, is touching. Maybe it softens me a little.

“Hey.” I beckon him closer, setting down the notepad for a moment.

He complies, approaching with a slow, measured pace. His closeness sends a tiny jolt of electricity

down my spine. Without a word, I reach out, wiping the sweat away with the back of my hand.

“You’ve been such a trooper tonight,” I tell him softly. “Thank you.”

There’s a momentary silence between us, punctuated only by our slightly uneven breaths. But then,

before I can stop him, Karl’s hand shoots out. His arm wraps itself around my waist, pulling me close.

Our breaths mix together, husky and deep.

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

He’s not wrong. I do want him. Ever since I had that w et drea m about him, I haven’t quite gotten those

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images out of my mind. I know that I made a promise to myself and to my friends that I would never do

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

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forehead and his sleeves pushed up to reveal his sinewy forearms, for me to push him away.

Neither of us has to speak. Before I know it, our lips are locked in an intense kiss. He tastes sweet and

salty, like wine and spices. A soft moan echoes between us as his tongue works its way into my mouth,

exploring me in ways that Adam never did.

I needed this. To be touched, wanted, loved. I haven’t felt this in years.

“Abby…”

“Just shut up,” I murmur, wrapping my legs around him and pulling him closer. “Just be quiet and enjoy

it.”

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Karl does as I tell him to. I feel the warmth of his body lean into me as his lips trail across my jaw and

down my neck. With a mischievous grin, I tighten my legs around him and buck my hips against his,

reveling in the deep groan that escapes his lips.

With a low, guttural groan, Karl begins working his lips and tongue along the neckline of my shirt. I

didn’t realize it earlier, but my shirt today was low-cut with a slightly lacy trim. Did I pick it out because I

wanted to, or did I pick it out for attention? I’m not sure, but either way, I’m not complaining now.

Reaching down, I start groping toward his groin. He’s already rock hard.

“G od, I forgot how big you are,” I murmur teasingly, wrapping my fingers around his shaft through his

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pants.

Karl moans in response. “I’m not even all the way hard yet. Just you wait and see.”

As our lips lock again, Karl’s hand begins working its way up my leg, beneath the hem of my shirt and

along my waist. I feel his fingers trail across my breast, lingering on the lace of the dainty bralette I’m

wearing.

And that’s when reality hits me.

I shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t be doing this. It goes directly against everything I’ve promised to

myself. I pull away slightly, reluctantly, and turn my head away.

“Stop,” I murmur, a whisper really.

Karl freezes, a hint of surprise, confusion, and something deeper flashing across his eyes. “Abby?” His

voice is a soft growl, brimming with emotion.

“We’ve done enough tonight,” I reply, the weight of my words hanging heavy between us. “Thank you

for helping.”

His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, searching, almost pleading. But eventually, he takes a

step back.

“Alright,” he says, his voice betraying a hint of annoyance, though it’s clear he’s trying to hide it.

And before either of us can say another word, Karl turns on his heel and leaves me alone in the

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kitchen, my blouse half-unbuttoned, my hair tousled, and my heart a wreck.

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