Chapter Thirty-Three #3
“Not here,” I whispered, voice scraping like it had to fight through every nerve. The idea of someone finding us—of Mom coming home—had me half panicked, half reckless.
His hands fell back to my hips, heavy and reluctant, but he let me shift off his lap. My chest ached at the loss of contact. He didn’t push, didn’t force. Just waited, eyes locked on me like I was the only thing in the room.
I stood, breath still ragged, and grabbed his hand. My grin felt shaky but real. “Come with me.”
The look he gave me before rising—dark, steady, ready—hit harder than any kiss.
I pulled him up the stairs and down the hall, my pulse rattling so loud it felt as though it shook the walls.
My room waited, familiar but suddenly charged.
I closed the door and twisted the lock. The sound echoed, final.
My chest tightened—not from fear. From the weight of choosing this after all we’d been through today.
But that was the thing—I chose this. Not that it was easier, but because it was ours.
Luke was already there, close enough his breath ghosted my cheek. His hand slid under my chin, tilting my face up as if he needed me to look him in the eye before he kissed me again. When his mouth claimed mine this time, it was fire breaking through old walls. No hesitation. No pretending.
I pressed into him, and he backed me up until the back of my knees brushed the mattress.
His hands anchored at my hips, then he lifted me onto the bed.
He followed, the heat of him pushing me back against the pillows.
His shirt was gone in seconds, and I let my palms roam across hard muscle, the ridges I’d memorized in glimpses finally mine to trace.
The air between us thinned, heavy with need.
My clothes came off in a clumsy pull, laughter spilling between our mouths before dissolving into another kiss.
His hand found my ribs, sliding up until his thumb brushed the underside of my breast. The touch sent a shock through me, sharp and undeniable.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, breath catching. His forehead pressed to mine, eyes burning.
“I won’t.” My voice was hoarse, my body already answering. “Not tonight.”
That broke him. His mouth crashed into mine, rough, desperate, and my fingers clawed at his jeans until he got the hint.
Zipper down, button loose, fabric shoved out of the way.
I felt him hard against me, straining, and the ache between my legs turned urgent.
Skin to skin, finally, no more barriers.
I guided his hand where I needed him most. The groan he let out when he felt me slick and ready nearly undid me. His fingers worked me slow at first, deliberate circles that made my breath hitch, then deeper, harder, until I arched against him with a strangled sound.
“Luke—” I gasped, nails biting his shoulder.
“I’ve got you.” His voice was raw, steady even as his body trembled with restraint.
He paused only long enough to grab a condom from his wallet, rolling it on with shaking hands. Then he looked at me again, one last check.
I nodded, throat tight, heart hammering. “I want you.”
He slid inside slowly, a groan breaking from his chest as I gasped at the stretch, the fullness that stole my breath. For a second, we just stayed there, pressed together, breathing the same jagged air. His hand threaded through mine, grounding me as much as I anchored him.
Then he moved. Every thrust stoked the fire higher, building fast, relentless.
His mouth claimed mine between gasps, between curses muttered low against my skin.
I clung to him, hips rising to meet his, the rhythm pulling us under until nothing existed beyond the heat, the pressure, the sound of my name breaking from his lips.
Release tore through me first, sudden and consuming, a cry muffled against his shoulder. He followed seconds later, his whole body shuddering as he pressed deeper, lost in me.
We collapsed together, sweat-slick, tangled in sheets that smelled faintly of us. He kissed the corner of my mouth, then my temple, then just held me while our breath evened out.
The house crept back in by inches—the AC kicking on, a car driving down the street outside, his phone buzzing once and then going quiet wherever it was on the floor.
I tugged the sheet higher and pressed a last kiss to his shoulder before we reached for our clothes.
He pulled on his jeans and found his shirt.
I slid into mine, fingers clumsy and content.
“Water?” he asked, voice rough.
I nodded. We padded down the hall then the stairs, the floor cool under our feet, and the kitchen tap thundered into a glass. We shared it, passing it back and forth until it was gone.
On the couch, the room reset around us. Streetlight cut a pale stripe across the rug. The quiet shifted from intimate to real—tomorrow pressing at the edges.
He kissed me once more then leaned back to look at me fully.
“We’re not alone in this,” he murmured. “Elise will make moves. Dunn will too. My family won’t stay quiet. We choose who gets our time. We choose where the story goes when we can.”
“We choose each other even when we can’t,” I said.
“Especially then.”
He stretched, shirt lifting just enough to tease. I reached without thinking, tracing the line of muscle at his side. He caught my wrist lightly, his mouth curving. “Careful. Keep touching me that way and I’ll be ready for round two.”
“Maybe I’m trying to memorize you before everything changes again. And I don’t want you to stop. Not anymore.”
His mouth brushed mine, brief, hungry, as though he wanted proof. Then he bent and kissed the inside of my wrist. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “If you run, I’m chasing you. If I push, you pull me back. Deal?”
“Deal.”
No contracts. No words carved in stone. Just the press of skin and breath, a promise heavier because we knew exactly what it would cost.