Wicked Heat: Chasing Back My Ex-Boyfriend

Luca’s POV

The heat clings to my body like a second skin the moment I get off the boat. The Aegean air was thick with salt and sweat and something older like s*x, secrets soaked into the Santorini sea. I've only just arrived, but I already feel raw. A kind of exposure that can only heal you or eat you alive.

I dragged my suitcase across the stone path toward the resort, squinting under the late afternoon sun. White washed walls shimmer. Olive trees twist like dancers, everything pisses me off. It looks too beautiful.

A man in all white welcomes me with a rehearsed smile. He offers to take my bag but I wave him off.

“Luca Moretti,” I said, not because he asked, but because I wanted to hear it out loud to remind myself that I still exist.

The poor man gave a quick nod like he remembered the name, though I'm used to that kind of reaction. The widening of his eyes, his pulse like wondering if it's really me. The Scandal multivering my deputation but it made me unforgettable.

He leads me through the old country yard into the main Lodge. Everything smells like citrus and polished wood. A breeze blows through the guns, and the place is drenched in calm.

I hate it.

But then I saw him behind the bar mixing something, red and sharp-looking.

I was shocked to my bones. What I was running away from has caught up to me.

I froze, and my heart didn't beat for a moment; it stopped.

He hasn't seen me yet. His head was down, dark curls covering his face. But there's no mistaking that posture, those forearms, that stature. It speaks so loudly drawing me to him. But I stopped myself.

“Andreas”, I called but he didn't hear me.

He looked older, sharper, tanned up and tighter. Tattoos crawl up his arms like he had grown up with them. I was caught by the silver ring shining brightly on his finger while he tossed ice into the glass with so much confidence.

I was baffled, taken aback at the same time. I promised not to react at the sight of him, but I didn't know seeing him would happen so soon.

He looked up.

Amber eyes the same sleepy stare for a second. There was nothing. Then recognition hit him like a slap, and the glass in his hand fell to the floor and broke.

Then he turns away, just like that.

I almost laughed but of course, I know he did.

I followed a staff member to my suite in silence. I shut the door behind me, then leaned against it. My chest hurts. Never intended to come here chasing him, not for once. Or maybe I did. Gosh! It's so overwhelming, I can't even tell how I feel anymore.

I took off my shirt and walked straight to the balcony. The ocean waves like a promise I can trust. Gripping the railing while I took a deep breath, I recalled the promises I made to myself before heading here. To detox, to take a break from New York, the inconsiderate media, and the bitter taste of betrayal. But seeing Andreas throws all that into the mud; my plan has gone vain.

He was the one I hurt, the one I neglected.

And now, I've come to realise he's the only one my heart craves.

That night, I developed insomnia. The sheets were sparkling white, and the noise outside was hitting my eardrums. My body hums like it remembers his touch.

I tossed the cover off and I sat at the edge of the bed, staring into the dark.

I shouldn't.

I know I shouldn't. But I do.

I pulled open my pants and closed my eyes.

He's there… his mouth, his fingers. The way he used to scream my name like it hurts. My hands moved slowly, then fast. I imagine his tongue, the tension in his shoulders. The growl in his throat whenever he comes.

I bit back a moan, and all of a sudden it was over. So quick.

I slumped back onto the bed, one arm flung over my eyes. Shame curled in my stomach, not because of what I did. But for how much I still want him.

The next morning I woke up restless, the kind of restlessness that makes your teeth grit. I needed coffee, I needed control, and I needed to see him, that was all I knew.

I went back to the bar, he was there. Of course he was.

But this time he saw me coming. His hands didn't pause but there was tension in his shoulders. He didn't greet me, he just continued mixing.

“Morning”, I said, sliding onto a stool.

“You're up early?” he asked.

“I didn't sleep.”

“What a pity,” he mocked.

He poured something golden in a glass and set it in front of me. I was surprised.

“Is this peace offering or poison?” I asked.

“Depends on what you deserve,” he responds rudely.

I sipped. It tastes bitter with a citrus twist. Like him.

“Still good at mixing things that mess me up,” I muttered.

He chuckles in a low tone.

“Still blaming others for your messes, Luca?”

“Touché.”

I leaned in, putting my elbows on the bar watching him work. He looked efficient, very beautiful. But I don't remember him having a scar on his collarbone. I was prompted to ask, but I didn't.

“I wonder how long you've been here?”I asked.

He smiled. “Long enough.”

“To forget me?” He finally looked at me.

“I tried,” he responded.

And that hits harder than I expected.

“But why didn't you reach out?”

He snorts. “You were the one who ghosted me first, remember?”

“I thought you…” Then he suddenly cuts me off.

“You see. That's the problem with you. You always think. You assumed. You never asked questions.”

His voice was calm. But his hands shook slightly as he wiped off the counter. I noticed but I pretended that I didn't.

“I made a mistake,” I said.

“No, Luca. You made a choice.

And the silence between us became a scream.

I thought about leaving, but something else wanted me to stay and continue with my drink.

A lady walks by, smiling brightly. A man watches us from across the pool. The whole resort seems too aware. Like it's holding its own breath.

“Do you hate me?” I asked.

Andreas hit his head. “Somedays. I feel like gunning you down. Such a shame that I didn't know where to find you.”

I didn't know what to do with that information.

“Let me take you to dinner,” I offered.

He laughed really hard, but there was no joy in it.

“Dinner? Like what are we, polite strangers now?”

“We could be something else again.”

He leans in. “You're not in the right to walk back and pick up from where you left off.”

“Maybe not, but I can start from where we are.”

His eyes flick down to my mouth. Then back up

“You haven't changed,” he insinuated.

“You have,” I responded.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Pain does that.”

I didn't reply, I just reached out to his hand slowly this time.

He lets me touch it for a second then pulls away.

“Don't,” he said. “Not if you're going to disappear again.”

“I won't.”

“You always say that.”

His voice started cracking at the end.

This time, I walked away. Not that I wanted to, but because if I stayed back, I would say or do something I would regret.

I only wish he believed me when I said I wasn't going to abandon him this time.

Even if it requires burning for it.

Andreas’ POV

I watched him walk away. The same confidence wrapped all over his face. Same arrogance tilted his chain, but something in his shoulders was different, like the guilt finally weighed more than his ego.

“Good.”

I wiped the bar down, harder than necessary. My heart was pounding fast. He's not supposed to be here, he's not supposed to still look the same.

He was a ghost, a scar, now his flesh and breath became a temptation.

That night I couldn't stop thinking about him. I drank after my shift alone by the pool. The cicadas hum like they know everything. I stared at the waters, wondering if I would drown my memories or sharpen them.

I was startled when I heard footsteps around me.

“You always drink alone now?” he asked.

But I didn't turn around.

“Better than being alone with you,” I responded.

But he ignored and sat beside me.

The smell of collagen and something he always wore, something sinful, saturates the