Epilogue #3
“I still don’t know why you’re set on doing it here, in front of all these people.”
“Because it’s supposed to be romantic. It’s Christmas!” I groan. “It’s what everyone expects.”
I can feel Charise’s dull look even though I can’t see her. When I turn my head and glance back at her, she doubles down on it.
“I don’t know Luke as well as you do,” she says softly. “But I don’t think he cares as much about when or where it happens as much as it’s you who does it. The real you.”
“A hopeless romantic is the real me.”
“Fair point, but you can achieve the extra romance without an audience.”
“How would you do it? If you were going to propose to Val?”
Charise grins, her eyes sparkling behind her octagonal glasses. “I already did.”
“What?” I demand, snapping upright on the couch. That’s when I notice the sparkling diamond ring on her finger. “When?”
“Last night.” She sighs dreamily, staring at the rock.
“She and I walked through Central Park in the snow. We bought some hot chocolate and went through the Winter Light’s display.
There was a section of the park where we were the only two people for a few minutes, so I just got down on one knee and asked her to marry me.
She was so stunned, but then she dropped down and proposed to me, too. Great minds think alike.”
My heart melts. “That’s fucking adorable.”
“Yes, but it was also intimate—personal. I wouldn’t have liked having a million witnesses at a party of half friends and strangers. She knew that, too. My bet is that Luke is the same. Besides, romance is whatever works for you. It can just be you and him and still be a romantic gesture.”
I frown. “I suppose.”
“I wouldn’t overthink it,” Charise says, suddenly looking over my shoulder right as Luke calls out, “There you are!” from behind me.
I freeze slightly. Shit. Did he hear any of this?
But when I turn to meet his eye, it’s clear he doesn’t suspect anything.
He looks drained as he comes around the couch and drops beside me, lying down and putting his head on my lap.
Groaning, he gently presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, careful not to mess with his makeup.
“What’s wrong with you?” I chuckle, my hand immediately snaking through the golden strands of his soft hair. He visibly shudders with relief at the touch as if he’s been starved of it.
“There are too many people here,” he grumbles softly. “Remind me never to do this again. Going to parties at someone else’s house is more fun. Hosting, not so much.”
Charise lets out a little chuckle and gives me a very pointed look, like, ‘See what I mean?’ before she turns her attention back to her book, effectively ignoring us.
Luke lies with his head on my lap for a few minutes, eyes closed, and lets me continue playing with his hair in silence.
Maybe I should have checked in on him more instead of running around panicking about the perfect proposal.
I may have seen how stressed he was about this whole thing and realized sooner that it wasn’t the right time for it.
Charise is probably right. The one thing I’ve always known about Luke is that, despite his penchant for drama, his tastes are a little subtler than that when it comes to preferences. Maybe something more intimate would be better. Seeing how desperate Luke is to destress, an idea comes to mind.
“Come with me,” I request softly, gesturing for him to get up. He gives me a little pout and a whine like he’s afraid I’m about to force him to mingle again, but I just smile as I take his hand.
I glance back and catch a little wink from Charise as she lifts her tea in a silent toast, and I give a small wave of thanks.
Luke doesn’t protest as I lead him upstairs toward our bedroom, but I can tell he’s confused. When I pull him inside and lock the door behind me, he chuckles slightly.
“I can’t be gone for too long,” he says.
“Your guests won’t miss you for twenty minutes.” I grin, grabbing his hips and pulling him flush against me.
The feral look in his eye tells me how badly he wants this, even as his words push against it. “It took me an hour to get cute….”
“You’re always cute,” I breathe the words along his throat, relishing the way he tilts his head back, giving me better access. His hands rake through my hair, sending those little tingles down my spine.
“We shouldn’t… There are so many people downstairs.” He moans weakly, the protest dulled by the breathless way he utters it and how he pulls us back to the bed, his body ignoring all the tepid reasons he has to stop this from happening.
I follow him down against the pillows, my lips on his, and I pin his wrists above his head with a single hand.
The other drifts down over his chest, tracing the boning of his corset and the shape of his body beneath the soft fabric.
He arches with my touch, releasing a slight shiver that transfers through me like an electrical current.
The feel of corduroy is soft beneath my fingers as I brush them up and down his legs, and it sends a pleasant tingle up my entire arm.
He’s already hard.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I say, moving my thumb teasingly over the firm bulge between his legs.
I could leave it at this—the light stuff, the whisper of pleasure as it builds to the point of torture, but never going over the edge.
Or we could rip all our clothes off, and I could take him hard and fast, right here and now, until he’s begging with my name between his teeth.
But I need to know how far he’s willing to go.
Luke whimpers, his head falling back, eyes closing. “Kiss me.”
I obey. I’ll always obey whatever command he gives me.
His lips move across mine with a desperation that fuels the fire in my lungs, a clash of tongues and teeth, the honeyed taste of liquor on his breath.
He nips at my lower lip, his hands clawing at my back until I see stars.
The restraint I believed I could have had flies out the window as he turns up the heat.
He hikes my cashmere sweater over my head, his fingers mapping every inch of my bare skin, tracing the firm lines of my chest, the warmth of his touch unraveling me.
I try to unhook the metal clasps on the front of his corset with one hand, but it proves too challenging to do without looking at it.
He chuckles at my struggle, and we break apart long enough for him to deftly but sensually remove one clasp at a time, his eyes locked on mine.
The popping sound of each clip lands like a hammer to my already racing pulse.
“You need to wear this more often.” I smile, my hand moving to his newly exposed stomach like a gift meant just for me.
I slip my fingers under the mesh shirt beneath, teasing them over the little sparrows I adore.
I feel how his muscles clench with the tender caress.
Then Luke smiles, the sun's radiance reflecting on me in full force.
“Your favorite part about my clothes is when you get to take them off,” he teases.
I grin. “Touché.”
I hike the fabric up until it’s over his head, and his chest is bare beneath me, revealing the newer cherry blossom tattoo on his left pec that sweeps up over his shoulder and down his bicep to conceal the scarring leftover from his injuries.
My eyes are inevitably drawn to the intricate detail of the delicate flowers, and I lean down to kiss the sacred markings like it’s ritual—like an offering of worship, and Luke’s body is the temple.
I cover the rest of his torso with reverent kisses, moving down the length of him, until I reach his pants, the offending fabric in my way.
I hook my thumb in the waistline, unbuttoning them and pulling them off, his cock springing free—this is how I find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath that sinful outfit, and the thought of it has me ravenous.
Crouched down at the foot of the bed, I can’t help but take a moment to admire the beauty of the naked man before me, my eyes sweeping over every inch of his delectable form.
His chest rises and falls with need, his eyes on me with a hunger he’s desperate for me to satiate.
I stand up to fully disrobe, and while he watches me slowly unbutton my jeans, I put on a show that hooks his attention.
I can feel his anticipation, his eagerness.
It’s my favorite thing in the world to see how enraptured he is by me as I free myself from the constraint of my clothing.
He’s unable to remain stationary for long.
Luke sits up and scooches to the edge of the bed, coming closer to me.
Putting his hands on my chest, he drags his long fingers down, down, down, just as mine tangle in his silky, golden hair.
He whimpers when I grab a fistful just tight enough to give him the sensation he desires on the edge of pain without actually hurting him—that’s been a fun discovery, too.
I’ve learned to read his moods like an open book…
When he needs it soft or wants it rough.
He moves in to press kisses along my stomach, his hands moving along my sides, down my thighs.
The sensation fills my gut with heat, and my eyes flutter closed as it takes over, dominating my senses.
When he suddenly takes his tongue along my hard cock, it sends a shiver down my spine, and a gasp escapes my lips.
Before I know it, his lips are wrapped around me, his tongue moving in debilitating circles. With my fingers still firmly rooted in Luke’s hair, I can feel every pull of his mouth along my shaft more acutely until I’m nearly weak from the motion. But Luke doesn’t want me finishing here.