I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Luke?” Harper’s voice is quiet, almost hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay?”
I bury my head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her, conscious of the way my arms tighten around her at the thought that she’d leave. “And here I thought I’d have to handcuff you to my bed.”
She rolls us over, draping over me. “There’s always tomorrow,” she says as she lowers her mouth to mine.
40
HARPER
Sometime before dawn, Luke walks me to my truck, holding my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m dressed in my clothes again but he’s only wearing the jeans and shoes he slipped on.
The sky is still dark, and it’s very still out except for the occasional huff of a horse.
When I reach for the driver’s door, he tugs me, turning me into him.
I face him. “What?” I whisper, not wanting to wake anyone up. We’d been loud last night, but Luke said the rooms were soundproofed so no one would have been disturbed by our enthusiasm. I want to keep it that way.
His expression has gone serious—dangerously serious—but all he says is, “I’ll see you later, sunshine.”
My stomach does a ridiculous little flip. “Stop calling me that.”
His lips quirk, and he tucks one of my crazy curls behind my ear. “You gonna make me?”
I raise my brow. “What are you? Five?”
He lowers his head to kiss my neck. “I think I proved that I’m all man several times.”
I shiver, partly from his lips on my neck and partly from the memory of the night. We hadn’t gotten any sleep, and I’m not going to complain about that. “You sound awfully confident.”
“I am.”
Before I can come up with a smart reply, he cups my jaw and kisses me. It’s not demanding, it’s not reckless. It’s the kind of kiss that says he means every word he’s already spoken.
When he finally lets me go, I climb into my truck before I embarrass myself.
His grin tells me he knows it too.
The bastard.
The house is dark when I pull into the driveway.
Dad’s truck is parked exactly where it always is. The porch light is off, and there are no lights on in the house.
Good.
I slip inside and ease the door shut behind me.
For a moment, I’m seventeen again, sneaking in after curfew, trying not to wake my father—trying not to get caught.
Back then I’d been sneaking home from football games and bonfires. Now I’m sneaking home after spending the night with Luke Bennett.
Somehow that feels both better and significantly worse.