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“Ryan could be home any minute,” I say.
“Do you really care if he catches us?”
“No,” I say. And I really don't.
“God, how did I ever think I'd be able to resist you?” he asks and his lips find mine. We kiss, long and deep, as Luke presses me against the front door. I feel his cock through his shorts, pressing against my clit. I kick off my bikini bottoms and push Luke's shorts to his knees. There is less between us now, but it is still far too much.
I pull my cover-up over my head and undo my bikini top. Luke pushes it aside. His hands slide up my stomach and around my breasts, teasing my nipples, sending pangs of need through my sex.
I groan and dig my nails into his back. “I swear you're trying to kill me,” I say.
He smiles and sinks his teeth into my neck. My nails dig harder. His teeth sink deeper. It hurts, but I want more. I need more from him. So much more.
I push Luke's boxers to his knees. Luke's hands find my hips, lifting them, pressing them against the wall, rearranging them so my sex hovers over his cock. But he doesn't enter, not yet. Instead, he presses his lips to mine. His lips are warm and soft and sweet. They slide over my lower lip, sucking gently. Then harder. I feel the scrape of his teeth over my lips.
And I grab his ass, thrusting his cock into my sex. Jesus. My nails dig into his skin. I tear off his shirt. I need to feel his skin on mine. I need to feel our bodies become one.
I wrap my legs around his hips. He presses me against the wall, his hands on my ass. My back slams into the wall as he thrusts into me. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, savoring the feeling of him inside me. He thrusts into me, harder and harder, and I shake with pleasure.
The pressure inside me builds—I am already so close—and I look into Luke's eyes and kiss him. Every part of him is mine. Every part of me is his. There is nothing else, except us, in the moment. Luke fucking me, his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his cock inside me. I kiss him and I press my body against his and I do not stop when I feel the tension in my sex build and build and release. I do not stop when I hear the jingle of keys—someone in the hallway, going to some other apartment, thank God. I do not stop until Luke moans and sinks his teeth into my neck and slams me against the wall, one last time. I d
o not stop until Luke comes.
I collapse into Luke's arms, my head resting on his shoulders. I feel his hands on my back, his strong arms around me. He carries me to the bathroom.
“I have to clean up,” I say.
“I know,” he says and kisses me again, his hands lingering against my hips.
“I wish you could stay.”
“I can,” he says.
“That wouldn't go over well.”
“I don't care how it goes over.”
I turn on the shower. Luke kisses me again. And, this time, it is my hands that linger on his body.
“I'm sorry,” he says. “I keep promising to give you space to figure this out. But I don't want space between us.”
“Me either,” I say.
“I have a meeting,” he says, as if he would otherwise have stayed. But we both know he wouldn't. We both know he couldn't.
I step into the shower and Luke kisses me goodbye. He leaves without my asking. I scrub myself until I have washed away any signs of my betrayal. I wipe the floor clean. And the front door. I can't be too careful.
Chapter 21
Ryan gets home at 7. We have dinner together, the same boring fish and rice and broccoli. Ryan talks about work. I nod along with him. He asks what I did today. I make up books I read, acting exercises I performed, movies I watched.
“Did you see Luke today?” he asks.
“No,” I lie. “Why do you ask?” I pretend I am playing a part, the loving fiancée I am supposed to be.
“I want to know if he's bothering you.”
“Okay.”
