Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-seven
As soon as my lips press into Luke’s, his hands pull me closer like he’s starving and I’m the first meal he’s had in days. The movement likely jars his shoulder, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he hauls me toward him so I sit on the edge of the counter, my entire front flush to his.
This kiss is so spectacularly different from our kiss in the valley.
That one was desperate and fleeting, over before it really began.
This is all-consuming and heady, making time wait for us.
His mouth is hot against mine, and greedy, like he can’t get enough of me.
I tilt my head to deepen it, brushing his lower lip with my tongue.
He lets me in, his own tongue meeting mine in an intentional exploration that leaves me weak and wild.
With one hand on his chest and one behind his neck to keep him close to me, I arch my back, pressing myself fully to him.
He groans and the sound sparks a lightning strike through me. His right hand cups my jaw while his left toys with the hem of my thin T-shirt.
“Take it off,” I gasp against his lips. One breath later and it’s over my head, tossed to the side. His mouth goes back to devouring mine.
“What else?” he asks between languid kisses that make my thoughts melt into a puddle on the bathroom floor.
I grab his left hand, being mindful of his shoulder even though he isn’t, and bring it to my bra. He reaches behind me to unhook the clasp, getting it on the first try.
A moan rips out of me as Luke’s hand sneaks under the loose cups to palm my bare breast, thumb brushing over the peak. I gasp against his mouth.
“You like that?” he murmurs against my mouth, finally getting rid of my bra entirely. “Just wait until I fuck you.”
The expletive leaving his lips is hotter than everything that’s happened yet.
“Yeah? Did you dream about that, too?” I goad him.
His laughter ghosts across my cheek. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Never. And you didn’t answer my question.”
His mouth returns to mine and I’m struck by the surreal truth that this is Luke.
Luke, who pretended not to know my name just so I’d talk to him.
Luke, who lugged me on a road trip through hell to save my best friend.
Luke, whose hips are so close to mine, I can feel the outline of his hard-on through the towel.
A towel I’d make heinous demonic deals to get rid of.
My head jerks back as his hand knots in my hair, tugging on it so I bare my throat to him. His mouth leaves mine and a pitiful, wanting whine escapes me. It quickly turns into a moan as his lips leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck.
“To answer your question: yes, I dreamt about this. But my imagination was lacking because it didn’t even come close to how good you actually feel.”
“That’s understandable. You are a spreadsheet guy, after— Ah!”
My teasing turns to a yelp as his tongue circles my nipple. Fingers threaded in his hair, I tug harshly on his strands at the mind-numbing sensation. It’s all hot and disorienting and fast, like a roller coaster you’re stumbling off of before you fully realize the ride’s over.
His fingers hook on the waistband of my leggings. I plant my hands on the counter, lifting my hips so he can drag them down my legs with my underwear. He drops them on the floor and steps back, taking me in.
The fog lifts as my insecurities flash through my mind. My body, softer than it’s ever been, completely bare before him. I shift under his half-lidded gaze as the seconds drag out.
As if sensing my thoughts, he closes the gap between us. Mouths like magnets, he kisses me, though less rushed and desperate than before. There’s a sweetness to it.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “So fucking beautiful and brave.”
His words set me on fire. My fingers are once again in his hair, pulling him into me. He steps back between my knees, where he belongs.
His right hand forces my thighs farther apart. A moan escapes as his finger trails to where I want him most. He groans into my mouth. “So beautiful, so brave, and so wet.”
I throw my head back with a groan. He takes the opportunity to assault my neck as his finger slips into me, rubbing all the right places.
“I’ve been thinking about this, too,” I confess. “You touching me. At the motel in Tulsa, I couldn’t even lay on the bed with you. You make me feel—”
I gasp as he adds another finger, periodically pulling both out to rub the spot that makes me squirm. His mouth comes up to brush the shell of my ear. I shudder. “How do I make you feel?”
Wading through my thoughts is impossible with the strategic movement of his fingers. Keeping up with his mouth is also beyond me, so I focus instead on the scar across his throat. My lips find it, sucking at the raised skin, and a shudder passes through him.
“How do I make you feel?” he repeats, twisting his fingers. A cry escapes me. My lower belly tightens until I’m barely holding on.
“So fucking good. Like—like I’m going to—” I gasp. Luke groans, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss. His left hand—which he really shouldn’t be using—massages my breast.
“I want you to come,” he tells me, both a confession and an order. “Come for me.”
He pinches my peak and I shatter.
Sounds I’ve never made before spill from my lips as he continues his ministrations, letting me coast until I’m nothing but a shaking, shivering mess.
His mouth presses a long kiss to my shoulder, his wet hair tickling my cheek.
Slowly, he withdraws his fingers. A whimper escapes my throat at the loss.
He moves to step back but I cling to him, forcing him to stay.
“I want more.” My voice is breathy and doesn’t sound like my own. “I want you.”
My hand slips between us so I can stroke him over the towel still tightly tied around his waist. The most beautiful sound slips out of him at my touch.
“Are you sure?” he asks, unsteady, like he’s not so sure himself. “We can stop. I haven’t forgotten what you said about needing to really know someone before—”
“I do know you.” My free hand cups his cheek so he has no choice but to see the sincerity and want in my eyes. He turns his head into my palm, pressing a soft kiss to my wrist. “I trust you. I—”
He doesn’t let me finish the sentence before his mouth is back on mine. It’s tender and unhurried, like we have forever in this moment. I finally, finally unravel the towel from his hips. At the feeling of my hand wrapping around him, he gasps, startled eyes flying open.
“What?” I whisper, satisfaction curling in me at his reaction.
His laugh puffs across my cheek. “I’m just— It’s— I—” Another laugh as he shakes his head, cheeks flushed. “I haven’t done this in a while and I’m afraid it shows.”
“I haven’t, either,” I admit. “I want this if you do.”
“Yes,” he groans, though his hand rests over mine to thwart my movements. Disappointment lances through his eyes. “I don’t have anything, though. Contraceptives aren’t common in the underworld yet.”
“Pull and pray?” I joke breathlessly.
“I’m really not the praying type.” He swallows thickly as my lips brush over his scar again. “Though I’d make an exception for you.”
“Lucky for both of us that I have the shot.” I pull back to look at him seriously. “I’m okay with it if you are.”
I get my answer in his hands gently pulling me even closer to the edge of the counter. I only release my hold on him when he’s nudged against me, the burn to have him all-consuming.
“Look at me,” he says softly, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes.
I do, and for a long moment, it’s just this: his thumb brushing my jaw, my fingers stroking the short hairs on the back of his neck, our gazes locked as a million emotions pass between us.
And then, in one seamless glide, his hips land flush with mine.
“You okay?” he asks. I nod, unable to string together a coherent sentence to save my life. Has sex always felt this good?
But it’s bigger than feeling good. What I feel is safe. Caught in the cage of his arms and warmth of his body, it’s like nothing can hurt me. No demon or monster, no grief or guilt. All I know is his heart throbbing against mine, a promise that I’m not alone.
I know he feels it, too. He nuzzles my cheek affectionately before finding my mouth again, groaning into it as my nails dig half-moons into his skin. I can’t seem to remember how to inhale through my nose and I break the kiss, sucking in a lungful of air.
“Breathe, Brie,” he murmurs. It’s the same thing he said to me on the train to hell. But that was then, and this is now, and everything is different. Me, him, us. Because there is an us, and maybe we got here a little unconventionally, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
“Where are you?” he asks, abandoning my lips to kiss my neck again.
“I don’t know,” I pant, slightly irate that he’s choosing now to quiz my geography skills. “Somewhere in California hell?”
His laugh rumbles against my collarbone. “I meant, are you close?”
“Oh.” It feels good, but…“I’ve never twice.”
He raises his head from my neck, brow suspiciously quirked before he lowers to his knees. I stare down at him, lips parted.
He flashes a devilish grin before diving in.
The rub of his stubble tickles my thighs, adding to the overstimulation of it all.
It doesn’t take long to feel that familiar build.
My fists curl in his hair, pulling at his strands until he’s standing.
I lure him in and we sigh into each other’s mouths when we’re one again.
All it takes is the press of his thumb rolling a half-assed semicircle at the apex of my thighs to make me tumble off the ledge.
He follows suit only a breath later, groaning my name into my jaw. I drag my nails down his back, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beneath my ear.
The after is blurred around the edges as exhaustion makes a home in my bones. It’s only once he’s wrapped a fresh towel around me that the world blinks back into focus. Luke holds out a hand, staring at me expectantly with a soft smile.
“What?” I ask, realizing I’ve missed something.
“You need to take your contacts out, don’t you?”
He’s right, so I peel them off and drop the clear lenses in his waiting palm. Somehow, it feels like our most intimate exchange yet.
Using his good arm, he carries me to the bedroom. I’ve never been carried before. Fresh heat blooms in me, though it’s doused as I’m deposited onto the bed.
His blurred form leaves the room. I must nod off cocooned in my towel, because when I open my eyes, he’s sitting on the bed gently rousing me.
“Eat,” he tells me, passing me a thick slice of bread with something smeared on top. I’m not hungry—in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so full—but I take a bite to please him and hum at the taste of jam. He made a slice for himself, too, and together we munch quietly.
Now that we’re out of the intoxicating steam of the bathroom, I find myself turning shy. I don’t know how to deal with anything we just did. All I do know is that I don’t want it to be the last time we do it.
When we finish, he gingerly lies back against the double-stacked pillows behind him. They’re the only two on the bed.
“Come here.” He beckons me to his side. I’m overly aware that only our respective towels cover us, so I tug up the folded knit blanket at the foot of the bed. When I lie down, his right arm is in the space where my pillow would be. With nowhere else to put my head, I rest it on his bicep.
“What do we do now?”
I’m not sure if I’m talking about this very moment, beside each other. If I’m seeking a plan of action for our next stop on this road trip. Or if I mean us, and what we’ll be to each other should we make it back to our world.
“We sleep,” he says, choosing the here and now. “And tonight, we go to Silicon Valley.”
“And when we’re home?” If we get home, I don’t bother adding.
“We go on a date.” The simplicity of his statement makes a sleepy laugh fall out of me. We’re skin-to-skin, his radiating heat lulling me into a false sense of security. The aftermath of our bathroom delirium has left me spent and spineless. I’m fading fast.
“The movies,” I rush out before sleep can take me. “Our first date has to be at the movies so you can finally appreciate how funny I am. Do we have a deal?”
His laugh is soft and reassuring, something I could get used to. That thought alone feels like the most dangerous thing I’ve endured yet.
“Deal,” he agrees. “When we get back, I’ll take you to the movies.”
“Deal,” I echo, unable to keep my eyes open any longer. I fall asleep pressed to his side, my palm over his heart clocking its steady rhythm.
For the first time since the car accident, I don’t dream.