Chapter Fourteen Luke
Fourteen
Luke
Luke was drowning and he didn’t want to surface.
Sophie’s mouth under his was sweet and hot.
The small sounds she made when he deepened the kiss drove him half-crazy, each breathy whimper like a match to dry tinder.
His hands, used to repairing boats and hauling rope, seemed to have developed a mind of their own.
One tangled in her dark curls while the other slid from her waist to the curve of her hip, fingers digging in slightly as he pulled her closer.
He backed her against the trunk of a cherry blossom tree, needing to feel her body flush against his.
The contrast of her softness with the rough bark behind her made something primal pulse through him.
He’d spent the past few days avoiding this, fighting it, pretending the electric current between them was something he could ignore.
Now the dam had broken, and there was no holding back the flood.
“Luke,” she gasped as his mouth left hers to trail along her jaw, down the pale column of her throat. The way she said his name—half plea, half surrender—nearly broke what remained of his self-control.
His hand moved up, hesitating at the curve of her breast. Even with desire clouding his judgment, he waited, eyes meeting hers in silent question.
“Yes,” she whispered, arching slightly into his touch.
The weight of her breast in his palm, even through the fabric of her dress, sent a jolt of need straight through him. He brushed his thumb across the peak, feeling it tighten beneath his touch, and Sophie’s sharp intake of breath was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard on this lake.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, meaning it more than any words he’d ever spoken.
Her hands weren’t idle either, sliding under his shirt to explore the muscles of his back, blunt nails scraping lightly down his spine in a way that made him growl against her throat.
“We should—” he started, then had to pause when her hips shifted against his, sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through him. “We should go somewhere.”
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly. “Anywhere.”
“My place,” he managed, already picturing her spread across his bed, dark hair fanned out against his pillow. “It’s…stable.”
She nodded and he reluctantly pulled back enough to take her hand.
They were both breathing hard, disheveled in a way that would make their activities perfectly clear to anyone they encountered.
Luke couldn’t bring himself to care. Let the whole damn town talk.
Right now, all that mattered was getting Sophie back to his boathouse as quickly as possible.
They’d only made it a few yards down the path when a sound cut through the night. A loud, urgent whistle that Luke recognized immediately as the town’s emergency signal.
His head snapped up, eyes scanning the shoreline.
“What is that?” Sophie asked.
“Emergency signal,” Luke replied, already spotting the source of the commotion. Beyond the curve of the main shore, an orange glow flickered against the night sky. Fire.
“Is that—”
“The island,” Luke confirmed, his jaw tightening as he made out the unmistakable signs of flames licking upward from the trees.
Jake appeared on the path, face grim in the moonlight.
“Luke, where the hell have you been, man?” he said, slightly out of breath. Then he paused, catching sight of Sophie. “Ah, I see. Look, we need your boat. Fastest way to get the crew out there. Tommy and Davis are bringing the portable pumps so we can load ’em onto it and get the hell over there.”
Luke turned to Sophie. Moments ago, he’d been ready to carry her back to his bed without a second thought. Now duty was calling, as it always did in Solace Springs. “Sophie, I—”
“You should go,” she said immediately.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised.
Jake was already jogging back to the docks. Luke gave Sophie’s hand one last discreet squeeze before following, his mind now fully focused on the task ahead.