“No,” I answered quickly. Too quickly. I ran a hand through my hair and gripped the back of my neck. “I mean, why did you come? Seriously. No deflection this time.”
Luka stared straight out the windshield, jaw set, blue liquor-store neon pulsing in his eyes. I watched the side of his face, cataloged every twitch, every shadow, waiting for the usual pivot—the joke, the misdirection, the play for control. But nothing came.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Unshielded. “I don’t know how to answer that without sounding…weak.”
The light turned green. I accelerated, but not quickly enough for the driver behind me, who whipped around us, horn blaring, flipping the bird.
“Say it anyway,” I said.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing, and exhaled as if every rib in his chest were a rung he had to descend. “I didn’t come here because of Richard. Or your job. Or to…fix anything.” He paused, looked at me, then away. “I came because—” His jaw tightened. “You left. And I couldn’t settle.”
“Luka—”
He cut me off with a sharp flick of his hand, like slicing through a tangle. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” He let the words spool out, measured and deliberate. “We had a great weekend. And when you left, I told myself life would go back to normal.” His voice stayed steady, carving out the space between us. “But it didn’t.”
I forced my eyes back to the road, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. My pulse hammered at the base of my throat.
“That doesn’t sound weak,” I said finally, gaze still fixed on the road, tracing the stark white lane divider lines. “It sounds honest.” I turned right at the next intersection. I couldn’t have told you the street name if I’d wanted to. “And…I know the feeling.”
Luka let the silence roll between us, then tapped his index finger on the door panel, slow and soft. “I wondered.” He sucked in a breath. “Then you understand why I couldn’t leave it alone. Why I had to come. Why just texting or ringing you up wouldn’t have been enough.” He reached across the center console and palmed my thigh, grip firm, as if he were using me to anchor himself. “If you want this to stay casual, say so now.”
The reflexive quip rose to my tongue and died there. “Do you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m capable of it. Not anymore. Not with you.”
I unclenched my hand from the steering wheel and set it deliberately on top of his. “Me neither.”
I stole a glance at him. His eyes, brilliant blue in the city lights, flared. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Good,” he said. “Now, let’s eat.”
chapter
thirty
Ibarely got the key in the lock before Luka was behind me, pressing me into my front door, his hand at my waist, staking his claim. As the door opened, we spilled inside, and whatever restraint we’d practiced earlier—at the restaurant, on the drive home—collapsed on impact.
His mouth found mine, hard and unhesitating.
We hit the wall, then the sofa, hands everywhere at once, tugging, pulling, shedding clothing like they were mistakes we’d been carrying all day. I lost track of whose breath was whose, whose pulse thrummed under my fingers.
We didn’t make it to the bedroom. We didn’t try.
He hauled me up onto the kitchen counter, fingers digging into my hips so hard I gasped. The granite bit cold into my palms, my thighs parting around him.
He buried two fingers inside me—no pause, no ceremony—while grazing his mouth along the pulse at my throat. I groaned, the sound scraping my vocal cords. It was fast, brutal, with no room for thought. Just sensation. Just need.
“You think I flew across an ocean to only eat takeaway?” His lips brushed my ear, voice dark and liquid.
I tried to answer, but he flicked his thumb over my clit, and the words broke apart into breath. Luka grinned—then bit the soft skin beneath my jaw.
“I’m going to fucking devour you.”
He dropped to his knees, forcing my thighs wider with his shoulders. He grazed his teeth up my inner thigh, then sank in hard enough to wrench a cry from me. He licked a slow stripe, then sealed his mouth over my clit and sucked. Hard.
My head thudded against the cabinet. My palms splayed flat on the counter for balance, my body tensing hard and fast.
Luka drove his fingers deeper, curling until every nerve sang. He worked his tongue in circles, then flicked sharp and relentless until the pressure inside me spiked.