Chapter 24
ISLA
The crunch of boots on gravel and the slam of a truck door signal Luke’s arrival, sending a flutter of excitement through me.
I can barely contain my giddiness at the prospect of seeing him, even though he only left the house six hours ago.
He’s quickly become the light to all of my dark corners. Again.
It’s the little things. He keeps me company while I make meals for us, singing along, though completely off-tune. Bursting into laughter at a silly joke or an old story. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against my back as he sleeps, his warm breath tickling the nape of my neck.
Luke strides through the front door, his brow furrowed deeply, and his posture ramrod straight.
I place the steaming meatloaf onto the cooling rack and press ’pause’ on my phone to disable my playlist, where Frank Sinatra is currently crooning about riding high in April and being shot down in May.
Seems fitting.
Wiping my hands on a kitchen towel, I walk to him and wrap my arms around his waist, sensing the tension in his muscles. “I’m so glad you’re home. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s much better now that I’m with you,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of my head.
I release my hold, and he strides over to the refrigerator. The door rattles as the condiments clink together, and Luke retrieves an ice-cold beer. He pops the cap off and takes a long, hearty gulp, draining half the bottle in one go.
I raise an eyebrow. “Rough day, huh?”
He sighs, leaning against the counter. “I went to see my mom after work.”
“Oh. I had no idea you were going to do that today. How did it go?”
He shakes his head, a shadow passing over his face before finishing his beer and reaching into the fridge for another. “She didn’t know.”
“She didn’t? How is that possible?”
“It seems that Nathaniel has been deceiving everyone, including my mom. Tests were done after my birth, and he assured my mom that the results confirmed he was my father.” He stabs a hand through his hair. “Yet, we know now that’s a lie.”
“And she believed him.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” He scoffs. “She’s always been fiercely loyal to him.”
My jaw drops open. “Did you confront him?”
“Not yet,” he replies, shaking his head. “I decided to do some digging first.”
I lean back, eyebrows arching. “What sort of digging?”
Luke reaches into his pocket and retrieves a sleek black cell phone, placing it on the kitchen counter.
I examine the small device, then lift my eyes to meet his gaze. “What is that?”
“That’s a ‘business’ phone,” he explains, using air quotes for emphasis. “It’s the one that my father uses exclusively for work contacts. I found it hidden at the rear of his desk, locked away in a drawer.”
“What do you think is on there?”
“I’m not sure,” he admits, a frown forming on his brow. “But I have a gut feeling it’s nothing good. I’m not even sure why I grabbed it, but something tells me my father’s hiding more than just my paternity.”
“Do you think he’s involved in something illegal?” I whisper the word illegal like it’s just too wild to say out loud.
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility,” Luke replies, picking at the label of his beer absentmindedly. “Especially with how effortlessly he lies, like he’s practiced it for years.”
“Gabe will be over in a little while. I invited him for dinner. Do you think he can hack into the phone?”
“He’ll definitely be able to get in,” he replies. “I just hope there’s something on there that will help clear up some of the questions I have about him right now.”
I walk towards him with purpose. As I reach him, his arms open wide, and I step into his embrace. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt.
My heart aches for him. Everything is spinning out of control, and he doesn’t like situations that he can’t control. He and I are alike in that way.
“Want me to grab you another beer?”
He shakes his head slowly as his fingers weave through my hair, tilting my head back. “I want to get lost in you.”
“I want that, too.”
His lips crash onto mine in an eclectic, searing kiss that sends shivers down my spine. Our tongues entwine and dance together, as Luke’s hand glides down the curve of my jaw. His fingers trail lower, tracing the outline of my body, until they cup my breast possessively.
He exhales, and I pull back slightly, my lips glistening with the shared warmth of our kiss. “What?”
“I’m getting tired of only having the use of one arm,” he murmurs. “I can’t worship you the way I want to.”
I place a gentle kiss on his jaw, the rough stubble brushing my lips, and then nestle my face into the warm curve of his neck, breathing him in. “I have a better idea.”
His eyebrow arches. “And what’s that?”
The answer thrums through my body before it reaches my lips. “Come with me.”
I curl my fingers in the collar of his uniform and tug lightly, guiding him toward the bedroom. His steps follow mine, slow and sure, like he’s already surrendered to whatever this is becoming.
When I turn, he’s already watching me with that look—open, wanting, unsure. His hand slips to my hip, anchoring me, and I lift my mouth to his. The second our lips touch, a soft moan escapes me, quiet but impossibly loud in the stillness between us.
I’m breathless by the time I break away, my mouth swollen and wet as I begin to ease my way down Luke’s body.
I reach the button of his jeans, the denim rough against my fingertips, and pause. Glancing up, my eyes trace the line of his torso before meeting his gaze. A smile plays across my lips, slow and deliberate.
“Isla.” Luke’s voice is barely above a whisper, cracking as he emphasizes both syllables—his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.
A shiver runs down my spine, and heat pools between my legs, anticipating his reaction. I flatten my hand around the thick ridge of his erection through the worn jeans.
I curl my fingers into the waistband of his jeans, the metal button popping open with a faint click.
Drawing his zipper down, I tug his jeans and boxer briefs over his thighs. His arousal is evident, hard and ready.
I wrap my fingers around him, relishing the guttural sounds escaping his throat. His hips buck slightly, a sharp hiss passing through his teeth.
“Jesus.”
His hand tangles in my hair, gripping tightly, guiding me as I lower my mouth onto him. I swirl my tongue around his tip, hollowing out my cheeks and creating a tight, wet suction.
“Fuck,” he groans, his length growing harder.
I continue to work his cock, sucking and swirling my tongue while moving my hand along the base. His hips thrust wildly, tangling my hair in his fingers.
His hand changes direction and pulls at my scalp, the slight pain mixing with the pleasure. “Isla, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”
His words exaggerate my enthusiasm, desiring nothing more than to make him feel good. He releases into my mouth, his salty warmth hitting the back of my throat. I swallow eagerly, relishing the sound of my name on his lips and his taste on my tongue.
“God, Isla,” he whispers, voice wrecked and raw.
His thumb traces my swollen bottom lip, lingering there as if he can’t believe what just happened. I lean into the touch, kissing the pad of his thumb.
His voice drops to a husky murmur. “I need to taste you. Now.”
His tone isn’t only raw with lust. It’s desperate, like I’m the anchor he needs in a storm neither of us can control.
“I want to eat you until you fall apart on my tongue,” he confesses, his eyes blazing.
The heat of his words sears through me, but beneath it hums something deeper—a deep ache of belonging. But what I see behind the hunger is fear—the fear of losing me again.
I peel my clothes away until there’s nothing between us—no fabric, no secrets, no distance. For a beat, I just stand there. Ten years apart, heartbreak layered over heartbreak, and here we are again. Stripped down, raw, daring each other to believe in second chances.
He reaches for my hand, guiding me gently back to the mattress. Luke parts my legs, pulling me to the edge with a tenderness that makes me ache more than his touch. His hand skims my thigh, rough palm against delicate skin, and I open for him instinctively. But it’s more than instinct. It’s trust.
“Jesus, you’re wet,” he rasps, awe woven into hunger. “Does it turn you on to suck my cock?”
My voice comes out in a rasp. “Yes.”
His finger slides inside, deliberate and slow. I arch, not just from pleasure but from the terrifying relief of letting him back into places I swore I’d closed off forever. His tongue follows, circling, teasing, until the tension in me coils tighter and tighter.
“Oh my God, Luke,” I gasp, nails digging into his scalp.
He’s not only pushing me toward release; he’s undoing years of distance with every stroke, every flick of his tongue. When his growl vibrates against me, it feels like a claim. Mine, always mine.
I shatter in his mouth, the orgasm ripping through me, but what breaks me more is the look in his eyes when I come apart. Satisfaction, but also reverence. As if my pleasure is proof he’s worthy of me. As if this moment is more than sex. It’s our salvation.
After the high of release settles, we lie tangled in the sheets, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. My fingers drift lazily across his chest, tracing slow circles over warm skin. I’m not ready to leave.
“We need to get up,” I murmur, though I don’t sound convinced. “Gabe will be here soon.”
“Who cares,” Luke says with a low chuckle. “He can microwave a frozen dinner tonight.”
I nudge him with my knee. “Don’t you want to tell him about the phone?”
“Fuck.” He drags a hand over his face, half groan, half laugh.
“Right. Okay. But this…” He taps my hip, possessive in a way that sends heat curling through me again. “This gets continued later.”
I push up on my elbows, smiling down at him. “Deal.”
I slip off the bed and pad toward the bathroom. Before I reach the doorway, his voice stops me.
“Oh, and baby,” he drawls, propped up on one elbow—hair mussed, eyes dark and lazy. “Don’t mention another man’s name in our bed again.”
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate. “Unless you’re hoping to be punished.”
A pulse of heat shoots through me, sharp and electric. My heart stutters, anticipation buzzing at the base of my spine.
Because the truth is, as I step into the bathroom with trembling fingers, I’m planning on doing exactly that.
Thirty minutes later, I can’t stop grinning across the table, my eyes fixed on the man in front of me while the neglected meatloaf cools on the plate below. Outside, the sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving a soft twilight in its wake.
Yet, there’s a warm glow that seems to dance through me, illuminating the moment with pure joy.
“This is so good,” Luke says, his words muffled by the mouthful of food.
He pauses to wipe a smudge of gravy from the corner of his mouth with the napkin before taking another bite.
I lean forward, resting my chin in my palm, fingers curled gently against my cheek. “I’m glad you like it.”
Luke ceases his chewing and sets his fork down on the edge of his plate, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. “I like everything about you.”
Words I want to return get lodged in my throat.
Just then, the front door swings open with a sudden burst, and Gabe strides in with purpose, his brow furrowed and his eyes scanning the room.
“Hey, Gabe. Help yourself,” I say, watching as he eagerly serves himself a generous helping of food.
He settles into the chair to the right of Luke and digs in with gusto.
“So, what do you have for me?” he asks.
Luke pushes back his chair and walks over to the kitchen counter, where he picks up a sleek, black cell phone.
“I have this,” he says, holding it up. “I need you to hack into it and tell me what’s on it.”
“And what do we suspect is on it?” Gabe asks, pausing to swallow.
“Honestly, who knows? But maybe there’s something that will lead us to one of my dad’s contacts.”
“What contact?” I ask, frowning in confusion.
Luke hesitates, then explains, “I found a red stone in my dad’s office. It looked just like the one I found at the scene of your hit-and-run.”
His words send my heart into a frenzy, pounding like a drum in my chest.
“I don’t know,” he continues, “It might be nothing, but it got me thinking. Whoever is behind all this could have ties to my father.”
Gabe snatches the phone from the table, examining it closely as he turns it over in his hand, squinting at the screen before attempting to power it on.
“Yeah, I tried to turn it on,” Luke explains, shrugging with a hint of frustration. “It’s out of power. I don’t have a charger that’ll work with it. I figured you would.”
“Yeah, man, I’ve got everything I need to break into this phone,” Gabe assures. “It’s back at my place. Is there anything else that happened today?”
As Luke begins to recount the day’s events involving his mom, his voice low and serious, I gather the used plates and silverware from the table, stacking them carefully in the sink.
The room is filled with tension, yet my mind drifts back to a different moment—the memory of Luke and me being wrapped up in each other, our bodies intertwined.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, a warm tingle spreading through me at the thought.
After a few minutes, Gabe finishes listening, stands, and slips the phone into his pocket.
“Thanks for dinner, Isla,” he says, and then he’s out the door.
I wipe my hands on the red checkered gingham dish towel and set it on the counter. “Do you think he’s going to find anything on that phone?”
Luke’s brow furrows, and his usually bright eyes cloud with worry.
He pauses, stabbing a hand through his hair, and meets my gaze. “It’s my biggest fear that he will.”