Chapter 24 – Eden
EDEN
The pale morning light makes frost glisten on the trees as we drive past. I glance over at Luke in the driver’s seat, his hands tight on the steering wheel. He clenches it until his knuckles are white, like he’s afraid what he’ll do with his hands if he lets go.
I wish he would. It’s all too easy to imagine him reaching over to rest his hand on my thigh. But that’s something a real boyfriend would do, and Luke and I are—
I don’t know what we are, honestly. Friends with benefits?
Lovers? Morons, pretending that walking down this path won’t fuck up our lives?
Brinley hasn’t changed her mind about us.
I can’t have any kind of relationship with Luke that doesn’t destroy my friendship with her. I’m walking a dangerous path with him.
All I know is that I don’t want to stop. I liked leaning against him to sleep, liked texting with him at Christmas, liked having his face buried between my thighs. Everything we do together feels so good, I can almost forget how much it’ll hurt when it ends.
Right now, though, that’s just some distant, unknown future. Luke is here, and he’s real. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, and maybe it’s plain recklessness. I just know that I want him.
All too soon, he pulls up in front of my apartment. As luck would have it, there’s an open parking spot for him to pull into. He puts the car in park, and the sight of his hand flexing on the stick shift is enough to make me ask, “Would you like to come up?”
He presses his lips into a firm line. We both know what I’m inviting him up for. We’ll have time and privacy to go further than we did at the Christmas party. The line that separates real from pretend will snap if he agrees.
“Yes,” he breathes. “Let’s go.”
We don’t touch when we get out of the car and walk to my apartment. Our hands don’t brush when he holds the front door open for me or when I lead him up the stairs. It’s like he’s waiting, carefully biding his time until he makes his move.
I unlock the front door and he follows me inside.
He’s been in the apartment before, obviously.
Brinley lived here for years. Still, once I open the door, he looks around like he’s seeing it with new eyes.
The apartment still feels a little sparse, if I’m honest. Brinley took most of her things with her when she moved, and I’m still finding pieces to replace them.
There are only a few posters on the walls, and several of the bookshelves are only half full.
Too many of my things are still in storage back in Sundre.
Luke takes it all in. “It looks nice,” he says.
“Thanks.” Except right now I don’t care about his decor opinions. My skin prickles with awareness, aching for him to touch me. I walk backward down the hallway toward my bedroom, beckoning him back with me. He follows, leaving a few respectful feet of space.
Too much space.
I stop in the hallway, pressing my back against the wall. Luke stops, too. He keeps his hands by his side, like he’s afraid to push too hard or touch me without permission.
Fine. If he needs me to take the first step, I will.
I reach for him, cupping his face in my hands.
His skin still carries a slight chill from the winter air outside as I pull him down for a kiss.
His lips press firmly against mine, more than meeting my invitation.
Our tongues clash and stroke each other as his body presses mine firmly against the wall.
My hands snake down his neck and over his shoulders, feeling the firm muscles underneath.
A shiver rolls through Luke’s body. I love feeling how much I affect him.
I dare to bring one hand lower, over his abs to cup his erection through his clothes. His eyes slam shut before he pulls away from me, his hands clenching into tight fists.
“Is something wrong?” I whisper.
He lets out a dark laugh. “Just that if you keep touching me, I’m going to cross a line I shouldn’t. We made rules, and if I go there with you…”
I swallow. I know exactly what he means. It started as a joke, but we’re getting dangerously close to breaking rule number five. Don’t fall in love. We’re not there yet—not even close—but if Luke takes my virginity, we run the risk of walking down that path.
There’s just one problem.
“I don’t want to stop.” I slide my fingers up under the bottom of his T-shirt. He groans when my hands make contact, his head tipping back.
“Fuck, wildflower—”
His voice breaks off when I impulsively lick the triangle of skin revealed by his open-collared shirt. He tastes warm and slightly salty, and I know instantly I want more than just one taste.
Two broad hands close around my wrists, yanking them away from his body. He pulls them up above my head and against the wall behind me. His blue-green eyes burn with want.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” His voice is gravel-rough. “You’re going to go to your bedroom and get me a bandana or a scarf. Then, you’re going to come back out and let me tie your wrists up.”
Heat pulses between my legs. The clear, confident instructions just do it for me. Everywhere else in my life, I would never let a man boss me around. But like this, giving up being in charge, handing over control to a man I trust to make me feel good? It makes my whole body hot and pliant.
I nod. “Okay.”
He releases my hands and watches as I rush into my bedroom.
When I open my top drawer to get my bandana, my eyes fall on my nicer lingerie.
I wonder briefly if I should change into something sexier than my gray cotton bra and panties, but ultimately decide that Luke would rather I follow his instructions quickly.
I snatch a red bandana and head back to the living room, where—
Holy shit.
My mouth goes dry when I see Luke shrug his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, revealing the muscled torso underneath.
I know he hits the gym with Beau several times a week, that working out together is a core part of his friendships.
That doesn’t mean seeing the hollows of his abs doesn’t make my mouth water.
He beckons me toward him with two fingers. Suddenly, I feel shy. Sliding into the dominant role, he’s different—Luke, but not Luke. I duck my head as I walk across the room and hand him the bandana.
“Hands,” he says, and I extend them forward. He loops the bandana around my wrists and knots it expertly. “How does that feel?”
I test the fabric, relieved to find that I could get out of it if I had to. It would take some effort, and I know Luke would release me the second I asked him to. I feel confined, not trapped.
“It feels good.”
“Good.” He grabs me by the top of my jeans and pulls me against him, my tied hands brushing against his cock through his trousers.
“Everything we do tonight should feel good. Anything you don’t like, just tell me and I’ll stop.
But as long as it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, I expect you to do what I say. Do you understand?”
“We don’t need a safeword or anything?” I ask, half-joking.
“I think stop should be good.” When I nod, he says, “Good. Now go lie down on the couch.”
That’s smart, I think to myself. The bed would be too tempting. I lie down on the cushions and raise my wrists above my head, right where Luke put them when we were against the wall. He smiles in approval.
“I’m going to take these jeans off,” he says, reaching for my waist. He quickly undoes the button and zipper, his eyes never leaving mine.
He peels the jeans down my legs and tosses them onto an armchair.
He kneels next to me, running his hands across the tops of my thighs. “You have amazing legs, Eden.”
“Thank you.” My words morph into a gasp as his fingers dip for a second down between my thighs, over my panties.
He grazes my clit, then drags his hand up my stomach and over my ribcage, pulling the bottom of my sweater up to my collarbone so he can see my breasts.
His eyes grow heavy lidded as he palms each breast through my bra.
“Fuck, wildflower,” he groans. “Your videos were sexy as hell, but they still didn’t do you justice. You’re so goddamn soft.”
I moan, because, like adorable, “soft” isn’t really a word people use for me. Maybe Luke sees me differently, or maybe I’m just different for him.
Then he lunges forward, claiming my mouth with his and I’m done puzzling out adjectives.
It’s all I can do to endure the punishing sweep of his tongue, the drag of his teeth over my lips.
He forces my mouth open wider, tasting every part of my mouth like he owns me.
I surrender to the kiss, because it’s my only option.
Fighting him would be futile, and besides, I don’t want to.
I like him claiming me.
His fingers press against my pussy again, stroking me through increasingly wet fabric.
Sharp desire sparks low in my belly with every touch.
He touches me purposefully, drawing out pleasure until my thighs are clenched around his hand, chasing the orgasm he’s leading me closer and closer to.
An orgasm I want badly—but not like this.
“Luke,” I pant against his mouth. “Please. I want to feel you.”
“Do you?” he purrs. “You want to know how it feels to have me on top of you?”
“Yes.” I don’t know if his dominant tendencies mean he takes requests, but I’m desperate to know how it would feel to have the full weight of him over me.
He chuckles and rises to his feet. He yanks off his pants and boxers, shoving them on the ground and giving me my first real view of his cock.
It’s hard and impossibly thick, with a throbbing vein on the underside that I want to drag my tongue over.
It curves up slightly at the top, making me wonder how that must feel.
I’ve used plenty of vibrators, but none were shaped like that.
I swallow, watching as he fists himself, dragging his hand up and down in a few long strokes.
“You like what you see?” he asks, brows raised. Challenging me to say it out loud.