Chapter 17 #2
I dropped onto the bed and opened the photos she’d attached. Dad stood at the top of a ladder with a paint roller in one hand, scowling at wallpaper. The next picture showed him glaring at a crooked strip while Mom’s caption underneath read: Your father has declared war on the dining room.
I laughed.
Mom had wanted to hire decorators weeks ago. Dad had decided he could handle the entire renovation himself despite having the patience of a man built exclusively for outdoor projects and power tools.
Yeah. That tracked perfectly.
There was a knock at the door, and my heartbeat kicked hard enough to catch me off guard.
I didn’t need to check.
Luka stood in the hallway, his gaze flicking up and down the corridor.
I pulled him inside without a word and shut the door behind him just as my phone buzzed again.
“I am interrupting you.”
“No, you’re not.” I rested a hand on his shoulder, guiding him down onto the edge of the bed before sitting beside him. “Just my parents.” I showed him the photos, and he leaned in, studying them with more focus than I expected.
“They look… warm,” he said, his voice low.
“They are. You’ll get to meet them. They’ll be here Monday, in time for the short.”
He blinked. “You would introduce me to your parents?”
I frowned. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
Luka stared at me for a long moment.
I bumped my knee against his. “Relax. I’m not planning on opening the conversation with hey Mom, hey Dad, this is the guy who keeps ruining my ability to think clearly.”
Color climbed into his cheeks.
God, that was cute.
“But I can tell them you’re my friend,” I said, quieter now. “Because you are.”
Except friend sounded way too small.
“There’s more going on here than…” I stopped, recalibrating before trying again. “You don’t keep coming here just because of what happens when the door closes.”
Luka went still.
Great. Fantastic. Maybe don’t phrase emotional vulnerability like a horny idiot next time, Foster.
Then Luka looked at me with an expression so open it nearly knocked the air out of me.
“If I am honest?”
“I’d rather you do that.”
He held my gaze. “For me, you are… návykovy.”
“Do I get a translation?”
A faint flush deepened across his cheekbones. “It means… like a drug, maybe. I crave you.”
Jesus Christ.
My brain stalled.
I grinned before I could stop myself. “So what I’m hearing is I’m addictive.”
His mouth twitched.
“But now I need clarification.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “Is it me you’re addicted to, or—” I glanced downward meaningfully. “—specific parts of me?”
Luka’s cheeks looked as if they were on fire. “Maybe both?” Then he wrinkled his nose. “I need a shower.” He stood. “I will come back later.”
I pointed to the bathroom. “Use mine.” When he frowned, I smiled. “I’m serious. Why not? It’s got the same shower stuff you use.” I grinned. “I smell it on your skin every time you’re here.”
“But I have been exercising. I do not have a clean shirt.”
I went over to the drawers where I kept my clothing. I removed a plain white tee and tossed it to him. “You can wear that. It should fit.” Then I played my ace. “Besides, you go back to your room, you shower, you change your clothes… All of that takes time.”
He sighed. “I cannot argue with that.”
A moment later he disappeared into the bathroom.
I looked at the closed door and smiled at the image in my head, Luka under a stream of hot water, hair slicked down…
Then my smile packed its bags and left.
Four days ago, I would have given anything for more time with him.
Somehow, now that I had it, it still didn’t feel like enough.
Luka
I bowed my head, letting the warm water flow over me, allowing it to still my mind.
Those photos…
My throat tightened.
Dean’s father on a ladder. His mother laughing. The casual way Dean had handed me the phone, as though none of it required explanation.
I could not imagine mine in the same pictures.
The bathroom door opened, and I straightened. “I will not be long.” I glanced in Dean’s direction, and—
He was naked. Hard.
“Want some company?”
And suddenly he was opening the shower door.
I caught my breath as he climbed in, closing it behind him. “You need a shower too?”
Dean braced his arms, his hands flat to the tiles behind my head. “No.” Then he glanced down, and I couldn’t help but follow. His cock was pointing upward, solid enough to send hot desire surging through me.
He smiled. “But I do need your mouth.”
I didn’t hesitate. I sank carefully to my knees, welcoming the pressure of his hands on the back of my head, the head of his dick against my lips, demanding entrance. My hands were on his hips, anchoring myself as I took him deep, the movement familiar and grounding.
Dean’s groan reverberated around the small enclosure, and my chest swelled with pride.
I did that.
I put aside the ache in my heart, the longing for a different life, and poured my heart and soul into giving him pleasure.
“Fuck, how you look when you do that,” he moaned.
I turned my gaze upward, locking on his, and his breathing stalled.
“Oh my God, Luka.”
I slid my hands around him to grab his ass, digging my fingers into firm flesh, my head bobbing as I lost myself in this, the way I’d done every single time.
“I want you to come too,” he gasped, his hips rocking.
I let go with one hand and tugged on my own cock, taking him deeper, letting him fill my mouth, loving every noise that tumbled from his lips, every whimper. I loved how he held me there, his attention focused onto me, both of us locked into the moment.
I came first, painting the shower tray with my cum before the water swirled it away, and seconds later, warmth spattered my cheeks and chin.
Dean hauled me to my feet and claimed my mouth again, the kiss deep enough to make my breath catch, my body responding before I could think.
He didn’t let go when we broke apart. His hands stayed on me, steady and firm, even as he reached for the soap. The scent shifted around us, clean and warm, his touch moving over my skin, unhurried, deliberate, as if there was no part of this he wanted to rush.
I hadn’t expected that. Nor had I expected the act of washing someone to feel so intimate.
When the water finally stopped, the sudden quiet felt almost as sharp as the heat had been.
Dean wrapped the towel around my shoulders, and I stopped moving. The gesture was absurdly ordinary. People did things like that every day without thinking about them.
For some reason, that made it harder to bear.
“I should leave,” I murmured as we stepped back into the room.
Dean smiled. “You might want to put some clothes on first. Unless you’re planning to cause a stir.”
I tried to smile.
Whatever he saw in my face made his expression change.
He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress beside him.
“Stay a while.”
That wasn’t our pattern. I sat beside him anyway.
“Luka.” He turned toward me. “Talk to me.”
I looked away.