His tongue slides farther down and stiffens to thrust into me. In and out, driving me crazy.
“Luke, please.” He gives me what I need, his mouth returning to my clit, sucking gently but relentlessly. One thick finger slips inside, curling, finding a spot that makes me cry out with pleasure.
He doesn’t rush as his mouth responds to every sound I make, every shift of my hips. My head falls back against the tile. My legs tremble. He holds me steady, his fingers working, mouth devouring me. It’s all I can take. The orgasm explodes through my body; I come apart, my moans echoing raw and unguarded.
He stays there, pressed against me, until I stop shaking. Then he rises and kisses me slowly and deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue.
I reach between us, find his hard cock pressed to my stomach, and wrap my hand around it. “My turn,” I whisper.
He catches my wrist, gentle but firm, and shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
“But—”
“This was for you.” He kisses my forehead, my temple, and the corner of my mouth. “I wanted to take care of you. Not expecting anything back.” Who the hell is this man? I bet no one has ever seen this side of him but me.
I look at him. My pleasure was the only thing that mattered. Something cracks open in my chest, warm and overwhelming, and tears prick my eyes.
“Luke—”
He sees it, pulls me close, and water runs over both of us. “Hey. None of that.”
I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in. No one has ever made me feel this safe. This seen. This cared for without strings. It’s marvelous and overwhelming at the same time.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He holds me tighter. “Always, Buttercup. Whatever you need.”
Luke turns off the water and wraps me in a towel, drying me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world.
Then he dresses me like I’m fragile. I let him, too overwhelmed with emotion to say anything.
The drive back to campus is quiet. His hand stays in mine on the center console, and I don’t let go, not even when we park.
“Luke,” I say, stopping him before he opens his door.
He turns to look at me.
“I’m all in,” I tell him. “Whatever this is, whatever comes next, I’m not going anywhere.”
He leans over and kisses me, soft and slow. “Me neither.”
We walk back to the dorms together, fingers laced, the case waiting, the world waiting, but for this moment, just this, we have each other.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
LUKE
Coach’s voice cracks like a whip across the parking lot behind me, “Locke, bus,now!” but my mouth is still on Madeline’s, stealing one last, faint taste of strawberry from her lip balm. She laughs against my lips, a small, startled sound that hits me in the center of my chest.
She doesn’t try to stop my PDA any longer. Madeline goes along with it, even though she gives an eye roll. I know she’s into it. Madeline isn’t a girl you can make do anything if she doesn’t want to.
Everything between us has shifted and feels more settled since the other day in the shower. She really is all in. I have to say I love that about her. That passion she has inside of her. I’ve never had that. I don’t think many do around here. Not when things are handed to them on a platinum platter. But she’s changing that for me.
I pull back just far enough to see her eyes, bright with mischief, then kiss her again, slower, because tonight feels three states away. I already know she’s rooming with Georgia while I get my own room with the team. I picture every hallway between us and hate all of them.
Grant claps me on the shoulder. “Dude, you’re gonna get us all wind sprints.” It would be worth it. Besides, Coach isn’t going to wear us out before tonight’s game.
Coach screams my name again, and I finally step back, but I don’t look away from her. “Text me when you get there.” I tell myself I’m only being this psycho because of all the bullshit going on. But I’m fairly confident I’d still be acting this way if there wasn’t a murderer on the loose. I’m sure a therapist would have a field day analyzing why I have latched on so tightly to Madeline, but they can go fuck themselves.
