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His mouth was incredible.It was everything I needed and more. He kissed me harder than he had in the hedge maze. He kissed me like I belonged to him. Like I was his now, and this was exactly what we should be doing.
I clung to him. That’s the only way I can describe it. I held onto him like he was my life raft in the middle of an ocean storm, waves crashing all around me, threatening to drag me beneath the water and smash me on the rocky shore.
I could almost feel the water in my lungs.
But Luke’s touch erased that. He calmed the whirlwind that kept howling at my center. The constant hungry need for information. To fill the hole with knowledge and memory. To rebuild my world one moment at a time.
With Luke, it was all gone. He was my world, my everything. He was all that I needed to sustain my soul.
He made the most delicious growl in the back of his throat, and his hands became persistent, insistent. They traveled up my back under my shirt, his hot skin against my cold flesh. I shivered as he warmed me up, drawing blood to the surface and bringing me back to life.
“Oh god,” I murmured against his lips. “I need this. I need you.”
“You always did,” he murmured back, and with an experienced flick of his finger, my bra strap was unhooked. My breasts sprung free and felt heavy with need as I yearned for him to touch them.
He did. He seemed to know exactly what I wanted as if he’d studied my instruction manual, the book of Willow.
“Do you want this?” he asked, though, once he reached the front of me. “Tell me you do, Willow. Tell me you want me. I need to hear it from your lips.”
“I want you to touch me,” I moaned and wrapped my fingers around his wrists, pushing his hands against my breasts. “I want this.”
“Say my name, kitten,” he rasped and cupped them at last. “Say my fucking name and tell me what you want from me.”
“Luke,” I exhaled. “I want you, Luke. I fucking need you so bad. I want you to touch me everywhere, leave your fingerprints all over my body, inside me. Leave your marks. Make me yours.”
“Youdoremember,” he growled, and with a sudden motion, he grabbed the front of my shirt from inside and tore it apart. Buttons popped off and clattered to the floor, reminiscent of the pills the night before but with much more passion and love behind them. “You remember exactly what we did up here in this Upper room of yours. You filthy, beautiful creature.”
I moaned and ran my fingers through his thick, shaggy hair and helped him pull my bra off, leaving me bare to him.
He dropped down and pulled me to him. I sat on his thighs, straddling him, as he finally took my breast into his hot, hungry mouth.
He sucked and nipped one side and played with the other, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. I groaned an animal sound of pure pleasure and wanton lust. I wrapped my arms around his head and clutched him to me, holding him like a child as he continued sucking and licking me to the point where I needed more.
“You’re coming back, kitten,” he said, reaching up to brush my hair off my shoulder. “Are you remembering, or is your body remembering for you?”
“My body remembers this,” I said, sliding my hand down the front of his body, the fabric of his wool vest scratchy against my skin. I needed to feel him, his body. I was desperate for it. I began to tug at the waist of his dress pants, the Crimson Academy uniform that all the men wore, Uppers and Lowers.
He pushed my hand away and lifted me into his arms as he leaped up. I gasped and laughed as we made the transition.
“You’re so strong,” I said, proud of his broad shoulders and wide, muscled arms. He felt stronger than I’d expected of him as if he’d bulked up since the last time he’d put his arms around me.
“You’re so light,” he said and lifted me higher, like a child in his arms. “You’ve lost too much weight. I worry for you. You should eat more and build these muscles of yours. We could start training again.”
“Training?” I asked. “We trained together? What did we do?”
“Martial arts,” he replied. “I’m interested to find out if you have any body memories of that.”
“I feel like I can fight,” I said.
He set me down and took a stance on the balls of his feet with his hands up. I copied him, staring him down with the most fierce look I could muster. We only lasted a second before we both broke into laughter at how ridiculous we looked.
I began to relax, but he made a move. His arm swung out as he tried to connect to me, slap me or give me a karate chop across my shoulder.
To my surprise, I did have muscle memory. My arm swung out and countered his, blocking it with force.
“There she is,” he grinned. “My kitten found her claws.”
He did a series of moves on me, and I was able to block each and every one of them. We sparred gently until I grew fatigued, but I refused to let him see how it was wearing me out.
