Because of Luke Page 25

  "I'm sorry," he says. His gray eyes are so full of emotion. I can feel his heart beating, his nerves tingling right alongside my own. "I wish I'd known. If you'd said something or she'd said something. I could've put two and two together. Instead, there's three of us. And a huge mess. A fucking mess."

  Lucas bows his head and he's so close now I'm dying to sink my fingers into his hair and pull him to me. I'm dying to do what I've been dreaming about for the past year. And I want to tell him everything. I want to take him home with me. For me. For our son.

  "What can I do, Shannon? What do you want me to do?"

  Take me, my body screams. Hold me and don't let go. Come back with me. Let's figure it out together.

  "Maybe we should talk to her. Maybe she'll understand."

  I snap back to reality, stepping backwards and out of his grip. "No."

  He closes his eyes, his shoulders drop. "I don't want to hurt anyone. But either way, someone ends up bleeding."

  "It can't be her." I force out the words I'd rather swallow, but somehow he can tell. He's looking at me again, and his bright eyes are swallowing me up. Making me want to dive right in and not come up until I'm desperate for air.

  And then it happens. He closes the space between us again, and his hot hands slide up my bare arms. They settle around the back of my neck, beneath the fall of my hair and there's a slight pressure there. One that's easily interpreted. He's not letting me go anytime soon. Not until I give him what he followed me in here for. What I instigated in the kitchen. The very breath I'm gasping for. It seems like an eternity as he draws even closer, his gaze fixed on mine as his mouth brushes against my own.

  I let out a little moan and as his tongue darts out to part my lips, I'm ready. I've never been more ready for anything in my life.

  He's still watching me as our tongues caress each other, and my mouth fills with his own deep moan. And I can't look away. Those eyes. I just can't.

  His hands move to my back, and trail their way toward my hips. He holds me tightly pulling my body closer to his. The feeling of his heart pounding against his chest, through his shirt, through mine, makes my nipples harden. My hands find his hair and the first contact has me completely undone.

  I close my eyes now, reveling in his every kiss, every touch, every sexy sound. I'm floating on a wave of pure desire as he sucks on my tongue, my lip, grazes my teeth. He tastes just like I remember. Only, maybe just a bit better. Everything tastes better when you've been deprived of it for too long. And it's definitely been too long.

  "Damn," he murmurs against me. "Goddamnit."

  My knees buckle at the vibration of his deep voice against my jaw and I loop my arms around his neck, ready to climb him like a freaking tree. Lucas guides me backwards, further and further, until we bump up on the bed. As I lower to perch on the edge, he gazes down at me, eyes half-mast, lips parted. He pulls his shirt over his head and the first thing I notice is the nipple ring glinting in the moonlight that shines through the window. It gets closer and closer as he bends down, hovering over me.

  With both hands, he smoothes my hair off the side of my face, his gaze following the direction of his fingers as he tucks it behind my back. I close my eyes in anticipation of another kiss and this time when our lips connect, I grip his shoulders and fall backwards onto the soft mattress, bringing him with me.

  For several minutes, we reunite our bodies. Our lips, our hands, our legs. His skin is so smooth and warm I can't stop caressing it, I can't get enough.

  Lucas's hands finally move to the hem of my top. Peeling it upwards, his fingernails lightly scrape my sides and I shiver. He moves his head downward, brushing his lips over my belly, flicking me with his wet hot tongue. I groan and twist beneath him, trapping my fingers in his hair again.

  My nipples are so hard they hurt and between my legs I'm throbbing, aching for him to touch me. I haven't been touched in far too long.

  His hands are at my back now and his fingers slip beneath the band of my bra, massaging my skin, melting me down to a slush.

  "I want you," he whispers.

  And just like that I'm a puddle. "Me too," I reply in a whimper. "I've wanted you so badly, for so long."

  A tortured sounding groan fills the room and he suddenly gets up from the bed leaving me cold. "Shit!"

  "What?" I cross my arms over my front and come to a sitting position.

  "Get dressed," he says.

  "What?" My stomach instantly twists in knots as I scramble for my top.

  I can barely see his face, but I can hear the softness in his tone as he lowers down on the bed next to me. "Shit. I'm so sorry."

  And now I know. So am I.

  Nausea rolls, sick bubbling its way up my throat, as I force myself to swallow it back. My eyes blur and even though I can hardly see a thing anyhow, I'm further blinded by tears of humiliation. I shake my head as they fall from my chin to my lap.

  Lucas rests a hand on my shoulder, but I shake him off as I quickly tuck my tank top back into my skirt and jump up from the bed.

  "Shannon," he calls after me.

  But I ignore him. I can't even look at him. I don't even know how I'll look at myself. Less than an hour. Less than one measly hour and I end up in a dark room underneath my baby sister's boyfriend. The tears are flowing so fast and hard, I'm powerless to stop them.

  I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have come!

  I trip over my feet a few times on the way to the door and when I finally open and shut it behind me, I take a deep breath, leaning my back up against it. Glancing around the hallway, I gather my bearings. It takes several doors before I find the right room, but once I do, I change out of my slutty clothes, throw on my pajamas and crawl up on my sister's bed.

  Sheila

  Like at most parties, lately, I'm drunk. So far gone, I usually don't remember anything the next morning. But I have the sinking feeling I'll remember the image of my sister leaving my boyfriend's room, top inside out, hair a frazzled mess and crying like a baby.

  I linger at the foot of the stairs, contemplating my next move. At first, I was worried. Protective instincts kicked in and I was ready to kick whoever's ass made her so miserable in the first place. But as I stand here, I recall the fact that I haven't seen or heard from Luke in well over an hour. I've bumped into one body after the next, hoping it was him, but being disappointed every time.

  And in the next instant, I remember that first night we almost hooked up. He'd been in his room, moping and smoking. Mad at Roscoe for partying so loud, and I'd come in to comfort him. I don't doubt for one second he's in his room now. But why was she?

  As I mount the stairs, I'm trembling so hard I have to stop and catch my breath, calm myself down. I can't make sense of what I just saw. None of it makes any sense.

  I grip the railing as I make my way to the top, stopping in front of Luke's room and staring hard at the door to mine. I can't decide who to confront first. Or what to say. I'm still not even sure I saw what I did. For all I know, I'm still sitting downstairs on the sofa hallucinating the whole thing.

  Luke's door swings open and the moment he sees me, his eyes widen. He opens his mouth to say something, then glances behind me. It's all I need to confirm I'm not crazy. I saw what I saw, and now I want an explanation.

  "What the hell?" My voice is shaking and my hands follow suit as I rake them through my hair. "What were you...why was she...?"

  Luke shakes his head, then reaches for me but I step back avoiding him.

  "What's going on?" I've got more control over my voice this time and I level my chin, narrowing my eyes and waiting for a response.

  "It's not what you think," he says. "She got lost looking for your room."

  So at least I know I'm not crazy.

  "Did she lose her top on the way?"

  "Sheila..."

  "Please tell me you didn't just fuck my sister."

  "Of course not, I wouldn't..."

  "Then why did I just w
atch her leave your room in tears? What were you doing?"

  Luke sighs and reaches out for me again. This time when I try to avoid him, he grips my shoulders and tugs me inside the room. He closes the door behind me and backs me up against it.

  "You have nothing to worry about," he says in a low voice.

  "That doesn't answer my question," I reply.

  "You're drunk."

  "So are you. And I'm betting so was she." Tears mask my vision before I can even predict them.

  He rubs them away with the pad of his thumb, then kisses me on the forehead. "Nothing to worry about. I'm with you. Everything's okay."

  Though I consider it, I don't protest when he clutches my hips and hoists me up. I just wrap my legs around his waist and close my eyes as he buries his nose in the crook of my neck and takes a deep breath.

  "Where've you been?" It sounds more like a groan than a question.

  And it turns me on completely. "Looking for you."

  "I'm sorry. I got distracted." Luke kisses my bare shoulder.

  The warmth of his tongue against my skin makes me tighten the grip of my thighs.

  "Can you sleep in here with me tonight?" I moan a sigh as he grazes my collarbone with his teeth. "Because I'm thinking I'll be lonely if you leave."

  I suck the inside of my bottom lip when his fingers slide beneath my skirt.

  "Only for a little while," I whisper. "My sister needs..."

  The words catch in my throat as he pulls my thong to the side. For several seconds, I'm mesmerized by the way he skids over my exposed entrance, barely touching me but implying much more.

  "Luke, wait." But I'm already grinding against him, desperate for more pressure. "I have to talk to my sister." I rest my head back against the door and he presses his body closer to mine.

  In seconds, his jeans hit the floor and his erection is teasing me, the warmth and pressure like a bubbling pot compared to his fingers. I shift my hips forward, just as he thrusts his toward me. I cry out when he plunges into me, digging my nails into his back as I wait to be carried to the bed. But instead, he takes me right here on the door. My back slams up against it as he rocks his hips, working his way in and out, his breaths coming hard and fast. I'm so turned on, my pussy aches for him, clamping around him as he moves deeper inside me. Luke's arms hug me tighter as our lips crush together. He tastes like he's been smoking, but I'm in no mood to scold him. Not when he's doing me like this. Not when he's taking me like he's been thinking about it all night.

  The door rattles behind me and I muffle my screams with his mouth, desperately pulling his tongue into mine, snaking my hands through his hair and digging my nails into his scalp.

  I'm so drunk I feel like I'm floating and Luke is so hard, so wild it's making me giddy.

  Oh, god. What's gotten into him? Maybe I should lose him in a crowd more often. I think of all the girls lining the stage, night after night—fighting for the opportunity to simply catch his eye. The shameless ones in the parking lot, half dressed and throwing themselves at my man. My man. He's mine. He's fucking me like this and no one else. Never anyone else.

  "Luke," I call out, and before I can stop myself, I say it. "God, I love you." And I immediately want to take it back.

  But his response changes my mind. He doesn't say it back. He goes harder and faster, slamming our bodies together, up against the door so hard, I swear it'll come off its hinges.

  When he comes, I'm close, but not close enough. Still, I don't care. The look on his face—eyes closed, muscles so relaxed he looks like he'll fall asleep—is enough for me.

  But apparently not him. He keeps me in his arms and carries me to the bed, tossing me in the center of it, then crawling on top of me.

  First he kisses me, his mouth moving tenderly over my burning lips. His fingers caress my breasts, as he moves down my neck and along the center of my body all the way to the only place that matters. He plunges his tongue inside me, and I gasp fisting the sheets beneath me, my entire body rigid. I'm still so sensitive, so close. But he avoids my most delicate parts, concentrating only on my opening as if priming it for his cock. But he's already been there, the remnants of his pleasure all over his room floor. He's doing this for me. He's priming me now.

  He presses his hands against the insides of my knees, forcing my legs open wider. His tongue, hot and rough, tickles my insides and I convulse, grabbing onto the back of his head.

  I hate him. Not in a million years have I ever planned to be the kind of woman that melts at the touch of a man. I've always demanded respect. I may be willing to give love freely but there's always a damn price. Except with Luke. Fuck. I hate him and I fucking love him.

  It's as though he's interpreting everything I'm feeling from the way I call out his name, and writhe like bacon in a hot pan beneath the sexy stroke of his tongue. He crawls onto the bed, hovering above me that knowing smile, that predictable glint in his gray eyes.

  "What do you want me to do?"

  He's giving me control tonight. But I usually don't have to be given permission to drive and it kind of pisses me off. Kind of. Except for the fact he thought to ask at all.

  I loop my arms around his neck and pull down until we're sizzling skin to sizzling skin. The moment we touch I let out another gasp, in spite of myself and it's at that moment I get it. It's at that second I decide.

  I hate what he does to me. But I love the rush. The excitement, the instant desire. How, with one touch, I'm done for. I hate him for that. But I respect him far more, despite whatever I nearly walked in on. He's telling me the truth. He has to be. It's what my heart says anyway, despite the screaming in the back of my mind.

  Luke rolls onto his side bringing me with him. When I kiss him this time, I don't hold back. My eyes are closed and my hands are roaming all over his hard body. My legs are hooked at his waist again and I'm pushing myself into him, as close as I can get because I don't want even a millimeter of space between us anymore. I only want him. Near me. On me. In me. Again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Shannon

  I've been lying in this bed, wide awake for over an hour. I've already packed my bags and if it wasn't for my blood alcohol level, I'd already be half way back to Palouse by now. My stomach clenches so tight, I'm getting a cramp and I can't stop these stupid tears in their tracks.

  I'm a mess. Just like I have been since I met him.

  I shouldn't have come. I must have said it that a thousand times this weekend, but not really meant it until now. Coming here was a colossal mistake. Facing my sister, with the secret I'm keeping. Facing Lucas.

  I almost told him. I was so drunk, so affected by what nearly happened between us, that I almost spilled everything. There's still a connection. I know it. Despite everything we're still...I don't know what we are, but we're something and I want to find out.

  But I can't. What I need to do is count my blessings. I have Dave. I have all the support I need. I can't be selfish.

  There's a knock at the door and I freeze, holding my breath and pressing my lips together.

  It's him. He's back to finish what he started and there's no way I can consent. Yet there's no way I'll be able to resist him. No way in hell.

  I wipe my face on the tip of the sheet and take a few deep breaths. As the door opens, I rifle through all the possible excuses in my head. Anything at all that can make him turn around and go back where he came from, and at the same time not break my heart.

  But it's not Lucas.

  "Packed already?" Sheila closes the door behind her and flops onto the bed. The second I observe her from head to toe, I'm queasy.

  And I feel like an idiot. I thought it was him. Coming back for me. Because kissing me again, being that close to me again was torture. He couldn't possibly just walk away from an otherwise unquenchable thirst. But I was wrong.

  My sister's oversized rumpled t-shirt and frazzled hair says otherwise. Lucas got his fix and left me jonseing for mine.

  Sheila lies back
on the bed, spreading her hair out behind her. "God," she says. "This night."

  "What about it?" I bring my knees to my chest and lean up against the headboard.

  "It's been crazy. I'm so drunk I might as well be asleep." She laughs. "You're pretty drunk too, huh?"

  "All thanks to you and your Jell-O shots."

  "Please," she says, rolling onto her side. "You needed it and you know it."

  I avoid her gaze by rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands.

  "Know what else you need?"

  "What?" Though I already know where the conversation is headed.

  "To get laid. I don't know what your missionary boyfriend is doing for you. Or is he your fiancé? How does that even work? The guy screws you, gets you pregnant and is still tight with Mom and Dad? He must be a serious kind of miracle worker." She scoffs. "Then again he is David Baker. They've been on that since you two were in kindergarten. Funny how they love him but hate Luke. And I'm not even pregnant."

  "But you're not home either."

  "So what are you saying? He should knock me up if he wants to get in good with the family?" She squeals a laugh, then jumps up from the bed. "Maybe I should go get started right now." She bites her lip. "Or continue."

  I don't bother to respond. I couldn't if I wanted. The image of the two of them together—of him doing to her what I've longed for him to do to me—stops my brain from even processing.

  "I don't know how you do it. You must get horny. I want it all the time. Like all the time. And Luke..." She feigns a shiver. "We're like rabbits. And he's incredible." She looks me straight in the eye. "In-credible."

  I get up from the bed, but as I attempt to walk by her she grabs my wrist.

  "What happened in there?"

  I'm so startled by her tone, the icy glare and the grip on my arm, the only response I have is a dropped jaw.

  "I saw you," Sheila continues, voice low and even. "I watched you come out of his room." Her eyes gloss over and her bottom lip quivers. "Your...shirt...it was on wrong. Like you..."