He lingered.
The taste of him—heat, salt, a faint metallic edge—settled into me, cellular.
The kiss was a translation, a language he’d never spoken aloud.
I softened under his hands, letting him give whatever he didn’t know how to say.
When he finally pulled back, he thumbed my cheekbone, eyes fixed on mine, as if bracing for the rebuke. His breath stuttered, and in the gap I felt the force that kept everything locked down, that kept him from saying more.
So I said it for him.
“I’ve got you.”
chapter
fifteen
The shift in Luka was tiny—a blink, a breath—but it cracked through him like a fault line. His shoulders, always squared to the world like he expected everything to be a fight, dropped. Barely, but enough that I noticed.
He searched my face—no hunger, no edge. Just lost for a second. Something soft—unguarded and wretched—broke across his features, and for the first time, I saw the man beneath the armor, trembling and starved.
If I’d slapped him, he would have known what to do.
But I’d gone and said the thing:I’ve got you.
I should have been afraid of the way he looked at me—like I’d shifted something fundamental in him. Instead, I felt myself cracking open right back.
He lifted a hand to my cheek, his touch careful where it was usually rough—no pressure, no claim. Just his palm, warm and steady, like he needed to know I was real. His thumb feathered across my jaw, skimming the ridge of bone, then the edge of my mouth.
He kissed me. Soft, at first, barely a landing. Then again, deeper, the faint tremor in his mouth passing into mine. Iopened for him, breathing him in until the shared air felt like it belonged to both of us.
The sheets rasped under my thigh as I shifted closer. Luka brushed my hair aside and tucked it behind my ear with an awkwardness that might have been gentle if he’d ever practiced the motion before.
He slid his hand under my T-shirt, slow and careful. Rough heat skimmed my ribs, his knuckles grazing each breath I pulled in. When he cupped my breast, I felt the shudder in his palm.
He drew back long enough to lift the shirt over my head and tossed it aside, then bent to my neck, breathing me in. He moved down in an unbroken line, trailing kisses down my neck, along my collarbone, down my sternum.
Each press of his lips was a question:
Do you want this? Do you want me?
His hand settled across my sternum, warm and shockingly light. He traced circles around my nipple, feathering in until it tightened, then closed his hand and squeezed—firm, complete. He lowered his mouth to my breast and drew the nipple in. His tongue flicked once before he sealed his lips and pulled—at first gentle, then greedy. The sensation arrowed straight through my chest, nerves sparking along the underside of my skin. A moan ripped out of me, flaring up my spine until I shivered under him.
He kneaded my other breast, his thumb rolling the nipple until it ached. The pressure was perfect. Not urgent, not a means to an end, just pure want—his, mine, it didn’t matter. His lips and tongue and hands moved in sync, rolling and teasing, the heat of his breath pooling against my skin.
Luka’s thigh was already between mine.
The pressure built, steady and insistent, until the ache turned sharp enough to make my hips shift toward him.
I needed more. God, I needed him closer.
I shifted, grinding against the muscle of his thigh, desperate for friction. His bare skin glided against mine, and I felt the solid length of him, already hard, already wanting.
He groaned into my breast, the sound vibrating through my ribs, his body shuddering like he didn’t know how to accept what I was giving him. He moved lower, his mouth tracing down my ribs, across the small hollow of my belly.
Luka could manhandle me, yes—rail me to the breaking point. But this—slow, tender, almost worshipful—fractured me.
I opened my thighs, invitation and plea. Luka moved between them without hurry, his jaw brushing the line from hip to thigh with an unguarded focus that made my pulse jump. The look in his eyes was terrifying in its candor—no mask, no walls. I let him see me, let my body open for him, without holding anything back.