Luke(32)

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By some miracle they made it to Luke's house without another red light. He leapt out of the car, came around for Faith, and tugged her out and into his arms.

After another long, breathless kiss, he pulled back and ran a finger over her wet lower lip. "I love your mouth. I can't get enough of it."

She'd never had a man say such things to her, never. It spun her head, and that, she figured a little recklessly, shamelessly, was okay. For the next month and a half, this man and all the wild sexuality that rolled off him in waves, belonged to her.

"Come on," he whispered, and led her to his front door. While he fumbled for the right key, looking adorably flustered and hot and just a little frustrated, she smiled and rimmed his ear with her finger.

He dropped his keys, swore, then bent for them. When he straightened, he snagged an arm snug around her, pinning her arms to her sides so he could get them into his house.

She leaned in and sucked on the lobe of his ear.

"Stop that," he gasped. Kicking the door shut behind them, he planted her against the wood and let out a groaning laugh at her feigned docile expression. "Okay, don't stop anything, but I can't be held responsible if you drive me so crazy we don't make it to the bed."

Her heart was drumming so fast and loud it was a miracle it didn't burst right out of her chest. Holding his gaze, she leaned over and slowly, purposely, bit his lower lip.

With a groan, he captured her mouth in a kiss so carnal and fierce, Faith thought she might spontaneously combust right there on the spot. He had her pressed up against the door, his mouth on hers, kissing her as if he was a man dying of thirst.

She'd once wondered what would happen when he lost control, and she was about to find out. Knowing that she'd done that to him, driven him over the edge, swamped her. Power and need swept through her, power and a need so crippling her legs buckled.

He caught her, his mouth still on hers, his hands running wildly over her body. Then, holding her head, he raised his mouth from hers a fraction and stared down, his eyes blazing. He stared into her eyes, then down at her lips, before changing the angle of her head and settling his mouth over hers again. When she danced her tongue to his, he groaned deep in his throat, the sound fueling the fire within her.

"Oh, my … Luke—"

"Yeah." His fingers left her hair, sweeping down her body, over her breasts, and she nearly cried. Now, she thought, now he'd give her relief from the wild, desperate need flooding through her. "Luke … please."

"I know. I know." His thumbs rasped over her nipples and she did cry out, covering his hands with hers, holding them over her aching breasts. He groaned again, but managed to disengage his fingers from her, leaving her nearly sobbing in frustration.

But those talented, greedy hands didn't leave her entirely. They slid down, down her body until his rough fingertips got to about mid-thigh. Then, holding her gaze, he started bunching up the hem of her skirt, crushing it in the palm of his hands until his fingers brushed against bare skin. Still looking into her eyes, he slid his hands beneath her panties and cupped her bottom. His fingers squeezed, dug in, and then he hauled her up so she could wrap her legs around his hips.

That left the hottest, wettest, neediest part of her nudging the most impressive erection she'd ever imagined. With a moan low in her throat, she slid her fingers into his hair and thunked her head back against the door as he slowly rocked against her in a rhythm as old as time.

Leaning in, he kissed her throat, her collarbone, her breast through her tank top. "Lift it," he demanded hoarsely, and groaned when she did just that, watching her fingers intently as she brushed them over her own flesh.

"Like this?" She exposed her pale pink bra, gasping as he continued to slowly thrust his sex against the damp, hot place at the apex of her thighs.

"Oh, yeah, like that." Another aching thrust. "Open your bra, Faith."

Obeying, she unhooked the latch in front and looked into his fiery eyes.

"More," he said, "all of it," and she slowly peeled it open.

There was something incredibly erotic, astonishingly intimate about having his hands holding her thighs open to his, having his hips moving against her in a slow, tight, rocking motion, in a perfect imitation of what she really wanted him to be doing to her, all while she undressed herself to his hungry, hot gaze.

Bending his head, he reverently stroked his cheek against her bared breast, then opened his mouth and captured it, taking a gentle bite that he promptly soothed with a stroke of his tongue before he sucked her into his mouth, hard.

Her world spun out of control, centered on the sensation bombarding her between her legs and what he was doing to her now with his mouth. Then abruptly, he let her go, wrenching a whimper from her.

"Yeah, it's good isn't it…" He slowly blew out a breath over her tight, wet nipple, coaxing the bud into an even tighter peak.

"Oh, please," she whispered, arching against him, helping him by meeting him thrust for thrust. Her toes curled, her fingers fisted tighter in his hair as she arched into him, so close, so desperately close, she saw stars, she heard bells, she—

"Faith? Your skirt is ringing."

She stared at him, dazed, as the truth sank in. Her phone really was ringing and with a look of searing frustration, he slowly let her legs slide down his body so she could stand.