Worth The Risk
Luke
“Then don’t.”
Two words. That’s all it takes to shatter every defense I’ve built over the past two years.
Her fingers are still on my jaw, soft and trembling, and I can see the vulnerability in her eyes. The hope mixed with fear that I’ll pull away again, that I’ll hurt her again.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
“Molly,” I growl low. “If we do this, if I stay, I need you to know something.”
“Okay.” Her hand slides from my jaw to rest over my heart, and I wonder if she can feel how hard it’s pounding.
“I haven’t been with anyone since—” I pause, the words catching. She nods, knowing and encouraging. I press on. “I told myself it was because I didn’t need anyone, didn’t want the complication, but the truth is…I’ve been terrified.”
Her eyes soften. “Of what?”
“Of this.” I cover her hand with mine, pressing it harder against my chest. “Feeling something real and having it ripped away again, letting someone in just to watch them leave.” I take a breath.
“But when I saw that asshole touching you tonight, and you asked me to get you out of there, I realized something.”
“What?”
“You’re worth the risk.”
Her breath hitches, and then she’s rising on her toes, closing the distance between us. “Luke…”
I don’t let her finish. I cup her face with both hands and kiss her the way I should have this morning—the way I wanted to in that elevator but was too afraid to admit the way this beautiful woman makes me feel.
This isn’t tentative or uncertain.
I don’t hesitate because this kiss…is everything.
She makes a small sound against my mouth, her hands fisting my shirt as she pulls herself flush against me. I part her lips with mine, tasting the sweetness of whatever she was drinking at the party, and it’s even better than the strawberries from this morning.
Her tongue meets mine and I groan. One hand slides into her hair while the other wraps around her waist, gripping firmly and forming her body to mine. She fits perfectly, like she was made to be right here in my arms.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, and she’s looking at me like I’m the same hero she claimed me to be this morning in the elevator.
“I’ve wanted to do that since you handed me that invitation,” I admit.
She laughs, breathless. “Really? Because you had a funny way of showing it.”
“I know. I was an idiot.”
“Yeah.” She tugs me closer, her gaze on my lips. “But you’re my idiot now.”
Something in my chest cracks open at those words and before I can overthink it, I’m kissing her again. Deeper this time, demanding. Her back hits the wall beside her door and she gasps into my mouth.
“Is this okay?” I murmur against her lips, one hand sliding down to cup her lush little ass.
“More than okay.” Her fingers find the hem of my work shirt. “But Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to do this against the wall of my entryway.” Her eyes are dark with need, and it sends heat straight through me. “Bedroom?”
I pull back just enough to look at her—really look at her. To make sure this is what she wants. That I’m not pushing too fast after everything that’s happened in the last few days.
She must see the question in my eyes because she smiles, taking my hand. “I’m sure.”
She leads me through her apartment—a similar layout to mine—past a small living room decorated in soft colors and past a kitchen that smells faintly of vanilla.
Her bedroom is at the end of the hall, and when she opens the door, I catch a glimpse of string lights draped above the bed, a mountain of pillows, and framed photos on the dresser.
It’s warm. Lived-in. Nothing like my sparse, cold-hearted apartment.
It’s so her that it makes my throat tight.
She turns to face me, her back to the bed. She bites her lower lip. “I should probably tell you, I haven’t, um… It’s been a while for me, too. Nathan and I, we hadn’t in…”
“We don’t have to do anything tonight, darlin’.”
“I want to.” She steps closer, her hands sliding up my chest. “I really, really want to. I’m just saying I might be a little…out of practice.”
I catch her hands, bringing one to my lips. “Molly, we can take this as slow as you need. Or we can stop. Just tell me what you want.”
“You.” The word comes out sure and steady. “I want you.”
That’s all the permission I need.
I kiss her, walking her backward until her knees hit the bed.
She sits, looking up at me with those captivating blue eyes, and I have to take a moment.
Because the sight of her—hair mussed from my hands, lips swollen from my kisses, looking at me like I’m everything she’s been waiting for—it’s almost too much.
“You’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks flush and she threads her fingers through my hair, tugging slightly as I lean down over her. I groan. “You’re pretty beautiful yourself,” she breathes. “Especially when you smile.”
My brow furrows. “I don’t smile.”
“You do now.” She kisses me softly. “For me.”
I think back, and I admit, she’s right. I do.
Only for her.
I slide my hands up her sides, feeling the soft fabric of her cheesy sweater. She raises her arms, and I pull the sweater over her head. Beneath it, she’s wearing a simple white bra, and a growl works its way through my chest. Fucking perfect.
“You’re staring,” she says, but she doesn’t sound self-conscious, more amused than anything.
“Can you blame me?” I lean forward, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, then lower, following the line of her bra.
She shivers, her hands tightening in my hair. “Luke—”
“Tell me what you want,” I murmur against her skin.
“Touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Please, Luke.”
I reach behind her, unhooking her bra and sliding it off her shoulders.
She’s perfect. Soft curves and pale skin that flushes pink under my gaze.
I cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her pert nipples.
She makes a sound that goes straight to my cock.
I lean in, taking one peak into my mouth. She arches into me.
“God, Luke.”
I give her other breast the same attention, my hands sliding down to the button of her jeans. “These need to go.”
She sucks in a breath. “You first.”
Fair enough.
I stand, pulling my work shirt over my head and tossing it aside. Her eyes widen slightly, tracking over my chest, abdomen, the massive tattoo on my ribcage.
“Your turn,” I say, and she stands, shimmying out of her jeans until she’s standing in just a pair of white cotton panties that shouldn’t be sexy, but on her…they have my cock turning into a steel rod.
I make quick work of my jeans and boots, kicking them aside, until we’re both standing there in our underwear, breathing hard and staring at each other.
“Come here,” she whispers.
I haul her against me, skin to skin, and the contact is electric. She’s soft everywhere I’m hard, warm everywhere I’m cold, and when she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, I feel like I’m drowning in the best possible fucking way.
We tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and heated kisses. I roll us so she’s beneath me, my weight braced on my forearms and she parts her legs to let me settle between them.
The friction is almost too much—just thin cotton separating us—and I have to pause, breathing hard against her neck.
“Okay?” she asks, her hands running up and down my back.
“Too okay.” I press a kiss to her throat. “I’m trying not to rush this.”
“What if I want you to rush?” Her hips roll up against mine and I groan.
“Molly,” I growl in warning.
“I’m serious.” She tugs my hair until I’m looking at her. “We can go slow later. Right now, I need you. I need to feel…something good.”
I understand that. God, do I understand that.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” I say, sliding my hand down her stomach, over the cotton of her panties. She’s warm, and when I press gently, she gasps. “Tell me what you like.”
“That,” she breathes. “I like that.”
I stroke her through the fabric, feeling the dampness there, and satisfaction curls through me. She’s rocking against my hand, small desperate sounds escaping her throat, and I’m so hard it’s painful.
I kiss my way down her body, between her breasts, over her soft stomach, pressing my mouth to the fabric between her thighs. She makes a choked sound, and I hook my fingers in the waistband.
“Lift up for me.”
She does, and I slide her panties down her legs, tossing them somewhere behind me. Then I settle between her thighs, spreading her open with my hands and take in the sight of her pretty, glistening pussy.
“Luke,” she whimpers.
“Perfect,” I murmur, then lean in and taste her.
She cries out, her hands immediately flying to my head, shoulders, anywhere she can find purchase as I work her over with my tongue, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her hips buck, what has her saying my name like a repeat prayer.
When I slide one finger inside her, then two, she tightens around me.
“Let go,” I murmur against her, pumping my fingers in time with the flutter of her pussy. “I’ve got you.”
She comes with my name on her lips, her body, thighs, pussy trembling as I work her through her orgasm until she’s pushing weakly at my shoulders. Her thighs shudder on either side of my face.
I kiss my way back up her body, and when I reach her mouth, she kisses me deeply, tasting herself on my lips.
She reaches between us, palming me through my boxers, and I nearly come undone right there.
My eyes slide shut and I groan. She pushes at my shoulder until I roll onto my back, and then she’s sliding down my body, her hair trailing over my heated skin.
She grabs my boxers and tugs them down until my cock springs free.
She wraps her hand around me, and my mind fogs as she leans in and takes me in her hot, wet mouth. A rush of pure pleasure pulses through me and my hips flex on their own.
I thread my fingers through her hair, letting her set the pace as she works me with her tongue and lips. Taking me down her throat with a vibrating moan. She’s too fucking good at this. I can feel the pressure building—
I jerk my hips away from her and grip my cock, easing the urge to blow. I grit my teeth as she stares up at me with watery eyes and swollen lips. I pull her against me, kissing her deeply.
My hand slides between her thighs and she moans softly. She’s still sensitive, still slick, and when I stroke her, she arches into my touch. “Luke,” she mewls.
“Condom?” I ask, suddenly realizing we need one. Or three.
“Nightstand. Top drawer.”
I kick off my boxers and reach over, fumbling open the drawer and finding an entire box of them. I glance over my shoulder and raise a brow at her.
“What? I like to be prepared,” she says defensively, but she’s smiling.
I pull one out, tearing it open with my teeth. “Good girl.”
Her pretty lips part as her bare chest rises and falls rapidly. She falls to the bed, lying on her back. Eager. Waiting.
I roll the condom on, positioning myself between her creamy thighs.
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer.
I push inside slowly, and we groan together at the feeling of finally being joined.
“Fuck.” She’s tight, warm, perfect, and I have to pause once I’m fully seated. She feels too fucking good.
“Okay?” I manage.
“Yes.” She rolls her hips experimentally and I grunt.
I start slow, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, finding a rhythm that has her gasping and clinging to my shoulders. Her nails dig into my back and the small bite of pain drives me higher, pumping into her tight heat.
“Harder,” she breathes. “Luke—”
I give her what she wants, what we both need, and the sound of our bodies moving together fills the room. She’s so responsive, so open, meeting me thrust for thrust. Writhing beneath me as I piston into her wet channel. She moans, tightening around me.
“Touch yourself,” I rasp. “Let me feel you come wrapped around my cock like the good fucking girl you are.”
She slides a hand between us, swiping wet, sloppy circles around her orgasm-swollen clit.
Within seconds she’s crying out, her body clenching around me.
I watch her face as she comes undone—eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, a flush spreading across her chest—and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
The sensation combined with the sight of her pushes me over the edge, and I come with her name on my lips, burying my face in her neck as white-hot pleasure crashes through me.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, tangled together. Finally, I pull out carefully, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside her.
She immediately curls into my side, her head on my chest, and I wrap an arm around her.
“So,” she says eventually, her voice sated and teasing, “Still think this wasn’t a mistake?”
I press a kiss to her hair, grinning like a fool. “The only mistake was ever thinking I could stay away from you, gorgeous.”
She tilts her head up and the smile on her face is radiant. “Good answer.”
I pull her closer, feeling something I haven’t felt in years. Maybe longer.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Will you stay?” she whispers. “Tonight. I don’t want you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, and I mean it.
It’s not long before she’s asleep in my arms, her breathing even. I lie there in the glow of her string lights, thinking about how one paper heart and a stuck elevator on Valentine’s Day could change so much.
Warmth. Her warmth, her laugh, her optimism for love. It’s everything I didn’t know I was missing. And it’s everything I’m realizing I need in my life.
Tonight, I’ll let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—after all this time, I deserve this.
We both do.