Luke(41)

Her eyes drifted shut and she silently thanked him, because he'd made it so she couldn't think, which meant she could no longer calculate how much time she had left with him. "Tonight."

*

That night, Luke helped her close up the clinic. "Dinner," he said, but she shook her head. She wasn't wasting a single moment of their second-to-last night together.

"Upstairs."

Slowly he nodded, and reaching out for her hand, led her up the stairs.

"Shower?" she murmured, dropping her coat right inside the front door and reaching for his. "Lots of steam and hot water?"

"If it involves a wet you."

They stripped each other on the way down the hall, between long, wet kisses and hands fighting for purchase. Faith opened his shirt and shoved it off his shoulders so she could touch the chest she could never get enough of. Luke unzipped her dress, nudged it to the floor and bending his dark head, put his mouth over her heart.

No. Too emotional, and if they went the emotional route tonight she was going to lose it. She wanted hot, hard, and fast, and with that in mind, she nibbled her way over his hard pec, scraping her teeth over his flat nipple.

He sucked in a harsh breath as his nipple beaded.

Looking up at him, she licked her way to his other side at the same time she shoved his pants down.

"Faith—" But he broke off with a choked breath and staggered back against the wall when she wrapped her fingers around his long, hard, hot length and stroked.

Luke actually saw stars, heard fireworks in his head. If he didn't slow her down, it was going to be over too soon, but then she stroked him again, slowly, with just the right pressure, and his toes started to curl. With a low oath, he reached for her but she held him off, dancing away, moving towards the bathroom.

He saw pink towels, and a pink toothbrush on the counter, with smiley faces on the handle. Then he caught her just as she turned on the water, caught her and spun her around, pressing her back against the cool glass door of the shower, sandwiching her there with his hot, hard body.

But she just smiled that smile that always melted him, and spun them again, holding him pinned against the door as she slowly, slowly, sank down to her knees in front of him.

"Faith—"

Her warm, silky mouth surrounded him and all the air left his lungs. Normally this was Luke's very favorite sexual act, and indeed his eyes were crossing as she kissed and caressed her way over him, but right now all he wanted was to be buried deep inside her warm, giving body. He wanted to look into her eyes, wanted to see she felt the same unbelievable, inexplicable pull, and he wanted, desperately, to pretend she could be his for more than just this last weekend. Wanted that so damn much he didn't know how to function.

But what she was doing to him… It took every ounce of control he had to pull her to her feet and into her bedroom, where he tossed the covers aside and gently tossed her onto the mattress.

"The shower—"

"Can wait." He kneeled on the bed. "I want you, Faith. I want you surrounding me, looking at me, seeing me … just me." Bending over her, he nuzzled at her throat. "Just me," he whispered, rubbing his jaw against the warm, full curve of her breast, watching the nipple harden even more, as if blindly seeking his mouth. His hand slid down her belly, between her thighs, and at the creamy wetness that slicked his fingers, he groaned.

"Oh, Luke…" Melting arms surrounded him. "I'm looking at you, seeing you, just you … just you, Luke." She opened her legs to accommodate him, and when he settled between them, she arched up, so that he could bury himself exactly where he wanted to be, deeply within her body. It was so powerful and complete his knees went weak, and he was grateful he hadn't tried to take her in the shower standing up or he'd have killed them both.

Pulling back, he thrust deep. She gasped and whimpered and sighed all at once, eyes closed, mouth open, body tight as an arrow beneath him. Her breasts were creamy and full, her nipples beaded and tight, her stomach quivering slightly as she waited impatiently, restlessly, for him to move again. When he didn't, when he could only hold on and stare down at her, overcome, she arched her hips, silently entreating him to take them both right off the edge of the cliff they clung to.

"Can't," he managed through gritted teeth. "Left the condom on the floor in the hallway in my pants."

With a soft moan, she sagged back. "Hurry."

He never moved so fast in his life, and when he sank into her again, suitably protected now, he combed his fingers into the hair at her temples and held her face, craving that connection as well. "Okay?"

"Yes—" she started, but the word turned into a moan when he pulled back, slick wet flesh dragging on slick wet flesh. Then he thrust deep and she pulled his face down and kissed him, long and deep as he moved within her, in a slow, even rhythm that built higher and higher until he could hardly breathe. Every part of him was alive, vibrantly alive, pushing him toward release far before he wanted to let go. Her face blurred, and he blinked furiously, wanting to keep that connection, needing to hear her, see her when she let go, when she lost herself in him. Higher and higher they went. His heart thundered, and an aching need for her singed his every nerve ending, until he felt himself start to slip off the edge of control. "I can't … Faith, I can't hold back…"