40. Harper
HARPER
Sometime before dawn, Luke walks me to my truck, holding my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m dressed in my clothes again but he’s only wearing the jeans and shoes he slipped on.
The sky is still dark, and it’s very still out except for the occasional huff of a horse.
When I reach for the driver’s door, he tugs me, turning me into him.
I face him. “What?” I whisper, not wanting to wake anyone up. We’d been loud last night, but Luke said the rooms were soundproofed so no one would have been disturbed by our enthusiasm. I want to keep it that way.
His expression has gone serious—dangerously serious—but all he says is, “I’ll see you later, sunshine.”
My stomach does a ridiculous little flip. “Stop calling me that.”
His lips quirk, and he tucks one of my crazy curls behind my ear. “You gonna make me?”
I raise my brow. “What are you? Five?”
He lowers his head to kiss my neck. “I think I proved that I’m all man several times.”
I shiver, partly from his lips on my neck and partly from the memory of the night. We hadn’t gotten any sleep, and I’m not going to complain about that. “You sound awfully confident.”
“I am.”
Before I can come up with a smart reply, he cups my jaw and kisses me. It’s not demanding, it’s not reckless. It’s the kind of kiss that says he means every word he’s already spoken.
When he finally lets me go, I climb into my truck before I embarrass myself.
His grin tells me he knows it too.
The bastard.
The house is dark when I pull into the driveway.
Dad’s truck is parked exactly where it always is. The porch light is off, and there are no lights on in the house.
Good.
I slip inside and ease the door shut behind me.
For a moment, I’m seventeen again, sneaking in after curfew, trying not to wake my father—trying not to get caught.
Back then I’d been sneaking home from football games and bonfires. Now I’m sneaking home after spending the night with Luke Bennett.
Somehow that feels both better and significantly worse.
God, I hope I remember how to do this. I kick off my boots and start up the stairs.
I step over the third step—it’s always creaked.
The fifth one near the landing groans if you put your weight in the center, so I skirt the side and avoid that one too.
At the top, in the hallway, I hug the wall and step slowly. I make it to my bedroom door without a sound.
The second it clicks shut behind me, I sag against it. I listen for evidence of my dad having heard me coming in this late, but the house is still.
Exhaling, I set my shoes down and take my clothes off for the second time tonight. Tomorrow he’ll probably ask me where I was, but I’ll just tell him I was out with a friend and came home late.
Crawling into my cool bed, I pull the comforter up over me. My skin is still sensitive from all the places Luke kissed me, the burn of his stubble a delicious sting. My lips are swollen, and so is my pussy.
I sniff myself. I smell like Luke and sex, and it turns me on all over again.
Just outside of town proper, Luke is probably in his bed with my smell all around him, and I hope he’s turned on too.
A smile sneaks across my face before I can stop it.