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TAKE ME TO CHURCH
River remains still, tracking Luke’s every move as he circles him like a jaguar stalking its prey.
“Reaper,” Luke warns. “Get the fuck out.”
River’s eyebrow lifts before he turns to me. “Will you be all right?”
“She’s fine,” Luke bites, taking a threatening step toward River.
River doesn’t move, seemingly unfazed by Luke’s hostile demeanor.
“I didn’t ask you, Satan.” His eyes remain fixed on mine. “Doyouwant me to leave, Victoria?”
“Yes.” I’m practically choking on the testosterone in the air. These two equally matched men are itching to go rounds.
I need River to leave, because I won’t have them fighting over me. Not when they need to form a pact to help with the impending wars.
River shrugs. “I’ll be around if you need me.” He doesn’t look at Luke as he exits the room with a smoldering swagger that’s impossible not to notice.
Luke’s chest heaves with barely restrained fury.
“Tell me you don’t want him, Victoria,” he says, as he stalks across the room toward me. With every step he takes forward, I take one back.
“I don’t... want him.”
I continue my retreat. Not because I don’t want what’s coming, but because my need for him is so intense, I feel like I might explode. It’s overwhelming. All-consuming.
“Is it me that you want, angel?”
When he finally reaches me, I’m lifted into his arms, my legs wrapped around his hips. He backs us into the wall, trapping me against it for leverage. “Say it, Victoria. Tell me you wantmeinside of you.” He practically growls the words.
“You. I wantyouinside of me, Luke.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s deep and full of wanton lust.
My arms lift into the air and, with one hand, he pulls the black crop top over my head, discarding it.
Our lips fuse together, and I don’t know where I end and he begins. His hands roam over my body, possessive and indulgent as my arms cling to his neck and my legs squeeze his hips.
“I need these gone,” he grits through his teeth.
Just like that, my leather pants disappear.
“No undergarments?”
“Please don’t ruin the moment,” I whine at his incessant need to talk.
“What would you prefer I call them? Knickers?” He places a kiss to the corner of my lips. “Skivvies?” Another kiss to the other side. “Panties?” He grins devilishly.
“Luke...” I warn.
“Are you ready for me, angel?”
“Please, Luke.”
I don’t want to talk anymore, and I don’t want him to be gentle. I need him to claim me. To make me his.
“Mine,” he grunts, thrusting into my center. I whimper at the contact, craving more.
We waited too long to be together, and all of that pent-up frustration is what’s being released with every thrust.
