Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
His eyes lift to mine and he uses his fingers to motion me forward. Again, he’s in control. I am not. It’s this game we played most of our time together. Kurt demanded I always be in control. And I mostly live that way, unless it’s between me and Luke in the most intimate of ways. Letting go with Luke was always a relief. He represents the only time I could ever just be free. He represents the only time I ever trusted anyone completely. And yet, that person, that man that I believed in so completely, killed my brother. He made that decision. In my mind, I know he would never do that if he had other options. In my heart, I hate him not finding that option.
And I love him.
I’m so fucked up. I’m really fucked up. But I’m a better version of fucked up right now with this man about to touch me.
I step forward, following his command, and he watches me move. His eyes are all over me, a touch that isn’t a touch. A touch that makes me crave his hands on my body. When I’m in front of him, he looks at me, and then he does what I don’t expect.
He presses his hands together, almost as if he’s praying, and murmurs, “You’re still so damn perfect. Why do you have to be this damn perfect, Ana?”
His voice is fraught with emotion and when normally this is where he wants me to wait to touch him, I don’t. My fingers tangle into his hair and I pull his gaze to mine. “Because you want to hate me?”
“Because you are always going to hate me.” His voice rasps with the certainty of his words.
“It’s not that simple, Luke. You know that.”
“And yet, it is.”
I want to tell him he’s wrong, but he sits there on the bed, and folds me to him and presses his face to my naked belly, murmuring something I can’t understand. Seconds tick by and he just holds me there. And holds me a little longer. I don’t know what to say or do, but I don’t have to wonder for long. He begins to gently rub the rough stubble of his whiskers against my belly, and of all the things he’s done to me, and there is a long list of those things, I think this affects me the most. Not because it’s the most erotic or daring, by any measure. No. It’s the tenderness, the absolute emotional intensity of the moment that undoes me. We are connected, and yet, we are broken, but somehow whole again, right here, right now.
He turns his head and kisses me and my belly trembles beneath his lips and the tease of his tongue, mixed with the possessive flex of his fingers on my hips. I have never felt more owned, and Luke has done plenty in our intimate moments to own me, of that I cannot deny, nor do I regret one little bit.
His hands curve around my hips, palms exploring my backside before his fingers gently flex into my cheeks. At the same time, his teeth scrape my hip. My fingers tighten in his hair and my sex clenches in anticipation of where his mouth may go next. He knows too, I know he knows. Of course, he knows. The many naughty things I have done with him only became more delicious as he learned about what pleased me, what pushed me, what drove me wild.
Two of his fingers slide down my belly, and oh God, they find my clit, and gently tease me. Heat rushes through my body and he glances up at me and says, “I like it when you get wet for me, Ana. For me,” he repeats, a rough possessiveness to his tone. “And no one else.” He catches my nipple with his lips and suckles me mercilessly, his fingers sliding into my sex at the same moment.
I moan, and it’s not a shy moan at all. I am wet, so very wet, my body awakened for the first time in years. My hands are now on his shoulders, bracing myself for what comes next. Lord help me, I’m so embarrassingly close to an orgasm. And as usual, he knows this, too, as he abruptly deprives me of his touch. I’m left panting, but not surprised, not one little bit.
Pleasure with Luke is always hard and fast or bittersweet torment.
This time it’s the bittersweet torment.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ANA
Luke grabs his phone and turns on a music mix. “For privacy,” he murmurs as a song fills the air, soft but present, but I know it’s more than what he’s claiming. Luke has this thing about blocking out everything but us, and if ever there was a time we needed to do that, deserved to do that, in fact, it’s now.