The Destiny of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #3)(67)

“I’m not upset.” I laugh, but it sounds sharp and off pitch. “I just need to figure out where I’m going to stay.”

He reels me in toward him by the arm. “Just stay with us.”

“I’m good, but thanks.” I tug back, but not hard enough to get me anywhere. Instead I’m drawn closer and closer to him, his brown eyes blazing like embers beneath the sunlight.

“Stay.” Is all he says as the space between us disappears. I can feel the heat from his body and maybe my own as he lures me closer until our chests brush. Jesus, I think my nipples just got hard. “It’ll work out… we can share a room and I—”

“You’re going to share a room with me? Seriously.” I shake my head. “Didn’t you get enough of that this morning?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean my crazy wake-up ritual. I wake up like that every morning.”


He scans my face for something, but he’s not going to find it, whatever it is. “I can handle a cranky Violet. I’ve been doing it for weeks.”

“Yeah, but you get breaks,” I say, confused. I don’t get why he’s being so nice and determined to help me. It doesn’t make sense, not unless he wants something. “This time you wouldn’t. I’d be there twenty-four/seven, while you’re sleeping, eating, taking a shower.”

He stifles a grin as his hand slides up my arm to my shoulder. “If you get too bad, then I’ll leave the house for a while,” he says and I get a whiff of vodka on his breath.

“You’re drunk.” It’s making sense now, why he wants to help me. “I get it now.”

“First off, I’m not drunk. I barely took a swallow and trust me I have a high f*cking tolerance for alcohol,” he tells me. “And second, what do you get?”

“Why you’re determined to help me.”

“I’m not determined to help you. I just want you to come live with me… us.” He winces at his own words, but doesn’t look away from me, our eyes bond. “Come live with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say as his gaze flicks to my mouth.

“Why not?” He rubs his lips together as he moves his hand from my shoulder and his thumb grazes my bottom lip.

“Because I’m crazy and intense.” I swallow the lump in my throat as my stomach flutters. “You’ll get sick of me. I promise.”

“So am I.” He’s fixated with my lips, tracing his thumb back and forth across them and it feels weird and wonderful and thrilling. “Jesus…” he breathes, seeming torn, an array of emotions flashing across his face, but in the end there’s only conquest and confusion, a strange combination.

Before I can even take my next breath, he’s leaning in and his lips are brushing mine. My breath is stolen and tossed aside somewhere, my legs instantly turning to rubber. I’ve been kissed plenty of times by people I hate, dislike, felt no connection with at all. This is different… even more so than in his truck… this is… stimulating. Slow and sensual… everything is slow, even my heart rate. I feel a sinking feeling drift through my body down to my toes as I slide my hands up his lean arms and grip into his shoulders to keep from collapsing to the ground. He holds my weight in his arms, again making me feel safe. I open my mouth and let his tongue slide in deeply as I press my chest against his.

“This is so much better sober…” he mumbles and I realize he does remember the kiss in his truck. He lets out a throaty groan, his grasp on my shoulder tightening as his other hand tugs at my waist, crushing me against him. Our chests collide, our body heat mixing. Everything that I’d been feeling when I walked out here is gone and is replaced by this slow burn. It only amplifies when his hand glides up my back and tangles through my hair. I hate my hair played with, but as he tugs on it roughly, it makes me want to cry out in pleasure. The idea that he could do anything to me at the moment feels so God damn invigorating. That he could keep kissing me like he is. Devour me. Have sex with me. Whatever he wants and I don’t know him enough to know what that is. It’s terrifying and thrilling and it’s making me crave more.

I slip my hand up his back and push my palm against him, forcing him closer to me.

“Violet,” he groans, dragging his teeth across his my bottom lip and gently nibbling on it. “I think… I think…” He starts to pull away.

“Don’t stop.” My voice sounds a little more pleading than I planned and starts to jerk me back to reality, but then he lets out this low growl and his lips literally smash into mine, so forcefully I swear to God I’m going to have a bruise.

A wonderful, amazing stillness I’ve never experienced before fills my body as he backs me up against a tree and aligns our bodies together. He kisses me fiercely, pulling on my hair, gripping at my waist to the point that it stings. His hand starts to glide up my body, searing hot even through the fabric of my shirt. When he reaches my bra, he softly grips at my breast, gently caressing it before moving his hand to the top of my collarbone. I gasp as he folds his fingers around the base of my neck, not tight enough to hurt me, but enough that there’s pressure. I’m invigorated. Stunned by how my body responds, not with need, but with satisfaction. Blissful, confounding, serenity. More than when I’m standing on the edge of a building, drowning in water, stepping out in front of cars. I want more. Need more. I clutch him, digging my nails into his skin and it elicits a groan from his lips.