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Sal flicks on the soft light of the kitchen, instantly illuminating the messy countertop. The way she and Luke left it this morning in their hasty exit. Her forgotten thermos of coffee. Cereal bowls stacked in the sink. Crumpled Nashville Stars. A quick survey around, a quick call out tells her that Luke’s not yet home from the studio. A small smile graces her face. He and Seth probably got to bullshitting.
Sal’s stomach rumbles as she tosses her keys in the small tray, cracks a window and checks the fridge. She forgot to eat lunch, and although she’s starving, the thought of whipping up dinner is already exhausting. She’s exhausted. The entire drive home, she kept thinking of Molly. Though the girl never explicitly admitted her husband did anything, she hopes she was given the resources to get help.
Shutting the fridge, Sal leans back against the counter. She lets out a tired sigh but smiles as she takes in her beloved farmhouse. Lit up with warm light. A cool summer breeze wafting through the window. But as her eyes land on a particular spot of cracked tile, Sal can’t help the icy chill that zips up her spine. She closes her eyes to fight it off, but her mind’s already going there. Back to the boogeyman. Back to over a year ago when Roy Williams, the monster who had held her captive, came to their home and attacked her and Luke both.
Sal fought and finally won, driving Luke’s broken guitar stake through the bastard’s neck.
Luke wanted to move, but Sal was adamant they stay in their home. Every single thing in the farmhouse, they had built it together. This home is their heart. She could feel it the second she set foot inside, even if she couldn’t remember the past. She’d never let Roy chase her away from her life. Never again. Not even for the blood spilled. The bad memories. Her and Luke—they’d build new. Better.
A floorboard in the house creaks.
A hitch of her breath, her heart.
Then she’s letting out a sigh of relief when she sees Luke in the doorway. A bottle of wine’s tucked under his arm. In his other hand, he carries a pizza, a bouquet of gorgeous magenta peonies balanced on top of it.
“Damn,” he says, looking crestfallen. “You beat me.”
Sal laughs, her face heating at the sight of her tall, tan country boy. He looks adorably haggard, his dark hair mussed, the perfect amount of scruff dusting his face. The sleeves of his blue jean shirt are shoved up to the elbows, exposing tan arms corded with lean muscle.
She arches a brow. “Was there ever any doubt?”
Grinning, he takes a stride across the kitchen, depositing everything in his arms on the counter before sweeping her into his embrace. “Hell, I’m sorry, darlin’.” His hands tenderly cup her face, his thumbs grazing her cheek. “I was rushin’ home ... I wanted to surprise you.”
Her heart warms at his words. “Well, you did. This is perfect. You come bearing all the things I could ever want. Wine. Pizza. Flowers.” She stands on tiptoes to kiss him. “You.”
They come together like magnets. Sal sighs, drinking in his scent, the heady, familiar smell of wood shavings and rosewood oil. Luke’s mouth travels from her lips to the curve of her neck. His long fingers deftly unbutton the top button of her uniform. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Sal reaches down to palm the front of his pants, finding a rock-hard erection. She smiles. “Mmm. You must have really missed me ...”
“I can’t help it,” Luke breathes into her hair. “You look so goddamn sexy in your uniform.”
Sal chuckles as Luke tugs on her top. A tug that tells her he’ll soon be tearing it off like so many others before it. “You know,” she murmurs, “you ruin this uniform, I can’t get anoth—”
Sal gasps as Luke crushes her mouth with a toe-curling kiss. The best kind of kiss where everything disappears for just a moment. Where you’re reminded just how much you matter.
Sal wraps her arms around his neck and arcs into him. Every bit of her is white-hot. Every bit of her body is a go. For Luke. Always for Luke.
“You hungry?” he asks between kisses. Asks even as he’s slipping her top off her shoulder.
“Food can wait.” Sal grazes her mouth against his jaw. His stubbled cheek scratches her palm, their tattoo. She relishes the feeling. The lifeforce of Luke.
That’s when she remembers. She braces a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t.”
“What is it?” he asks.
She hesitates, hating to ruin the moment, but whispers, “I’m spotting. It should be fine, but ...”
“Don’t you worry about that, darlin’.” His dark, attentive eyes flash with worry but he doesn’t miss a beat. His eyes tell her they’ll talk after. That right now he’s going to do everything in his power to make her forget their troubles. “Let me worry about you.”
For a second, Sal can barely breathe, overcome with emotion. When all feels lost, Luke is there. He gives her everything and she can’t fathom how much he loves her. Or maybe she can. Because she loves him back just as hard.
Falling in love with Luke all over again has been the easiest and the best thing she’s ever done.
A warm body rush overtakes Sal as Luke backs her up against the kitchen table. He kneels before her, his fingers curling around her waistband. Impatiently, he drags off her pants, then her panties, tossing them across the room.
His broad palm slips between her legs, moving up her thigh as he kisses himself up her legs, lean legs she knows he loves, kisses her sex, her slim waist. Then, he grips her thighs hard, primal, and stands. His hands slide over her shoulders, a soft, teasing caress, and that’s when he tears at her top. Sal cries out in delight as buttons skitter across the room. Luke pulls her shirt off, and then her bra.
Cool air puckers her nipples. He dips his head to take a pink bud in his mouth. She grips the table edge to keep herself standing, to keep herself together. Damn near ready to lose her mind at the way Luke tastes her. Feasting on her. Like he can’t get enough. Never enough.
