19. Harper
HARPER
“What the hell, Luke?” I hope I’m whispering. The last thing I need is for my dad to check on me now. I didn’t lock my door, and there’s no way I can explain this.
Hell—I can’t process this either. Luke Bennett is standing next to my bed, his hand wrapped around his cock through his jeans, watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. And I’m here with my hand still buried in my pants, completely exposed, completely caught, and completely wet.
The mortification hits hot and sharp—my face burns with it. I’m surprised the room doesn’t light up, I’m blushing so hard. Without thinking, I pull my hand out.
Only now what do I do with it? Wipe it on my jeans? “Fuck,” I exclaim with frustration.
“Shh.” Luke nods toward the door. “Your dad’s still awake downstairs.”
“I know where my dad is.” I lower my voice, glaring at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.” His gaze travels down my body.
I feel it like a caress. I’m not sure if I’m glad I left my jeans on or bummed. “For what?”
“To see whether you ratted me out.” His hand rubs over himself and then cups low.
I can see exactly how hard he is. My mouth goes dry and my brain goes blank. “You—what?”
“You heard me.” His words are a rough growl, and his smile smolders with heat. “Did you tell Daddy what we did tonight?”
“Are you insane?” I glance at the door again. The panic is visceral—my father is downstairs. Twenty feet away. Maybe less. If he hears anything, if he comes up here and finds Luke in my room, finds me like this— Talk about mortified. “You climbed through my window to ask me that?”
“No.” His eyes lock on my hand, which I’ve unconsciously moved back toward my jeans. “I climbed through the window to watch you get off.”
My body jolts. I think my pussy whimpers.
Then I die, because he sits on the edge of my bed next to my thighs, takes my hand, and licks my fingers.