The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #4)(40)

Luke’s eyes darken, shadows in the inadequate light flowing in from the lampposts, casinos, and sights outside. He shifts toward me, his knee pressing against my leg as he cups his hand to my cheek and dips his lips to my ear. The warmth of his Bacardi laced breath caresses my skin and sends warmth throughout my body. Safe. I feel that safeness again.

“You were thinking about what I did to you in the bedroom a few hours ago,” he says in my ear, his voice low and filled with desire, his breath hot against my skin. Sweltering—I’m sweltering and it’s not from the heat of the desert. “And about how much you want me to do it to you again, only maybe slower this time and longer… take my time…” He has to be drunk as well and two drunken peas in a Challenger make for sporadic decisions without even a flicker of a thought about the consequences. And makes the adrenaline addict nearly fall into a state of euphoria.

A calmness overcomes me and settles inside my chest, I let my hands drift toward Luke’s jeans, resting them right on top of his dick. Right there, in the backseat of the car with his uncle and cousin within earshot. And in return, Luke lets out a throaty groan that makes me want to rip off his clothes and scratch the shit out of him, like I was picturing doing back at the table.

But as my fingers start to wander up Luke’s shirt, my nails gently scratching against his lean muscles, his uncle burst the moment. “Okay, you two, let’s wait until we get back to the house,” he says amusedly. “I promise it’s not that far.”

I’m not one to get embarrassed, but either my cheeks heat or the air gets even hotter. Luke however looks completely unbothered as he sits back in the seat, putting his hands on top of mine so they’re trapped inside his shirt, my palms pressed against his muscles and warm flesh. Then he gives me a look as if he has every intention to continue this right up the moment we get into the bedroom. I just hope I can stay drunk enough that I can go through with it unemotionally, otherwise I might have to find another alternative to settle the emotions buried inside, one’s that want to burst out of me, both old ones and new ones. And I’m afraid once I let them out, I won’t be able to put them back in again.

Chapter 11
Luke

Good guy? Bad guy? What kind of guy am I? A few months ago, I knew the answer and I was okay with that. Better to understand yourself then to be completely clueless. Not knowing is hard and right now I’m the biggest, clueless * there is. Because I want to f*ck the hell out of Violet. I want to f*ck her long and hard until she screams out my name and stabs her nails into my skin like she did in the car… God, that made me almost come inside my jeans, right here in the back of the car.

I want her more than anything and need to take her more than anything. That’s what the devil on my shoulder is whispering. But on the opposite shoulder, there’s this little angel, well I guess that’s what it is, but I can’t be certain since I’ve never heard it before. But it’s telling me that Violet’s drunk and hurting, and that it almost seems like she’s trying to cover up her pain by doing reckless things she wouldn’t necessarily do when she was sober. Like coming with me here, being with me, wanting me. It hurts to think about it like that but I can see it in her eyes, the same look she had on the ledge when we were running from Geraldson. Only I’m her ledge this time—her danger.

I go back and forth for the entire drive and come to the decision to be a good guy, but she makes it really complicated when we get back, stumbling into the bedroom together and she starts stripping off her clothes before I can even get the door shut. She’s drunk enough that she’s unsteady on her feet and sloppy with her movements, but the way her eyes stay focused on me is sexy as hell. First the dress, then the slip under the dress… and oh hell, she has no panties on. But before I can even take that all in, off goes her bra. She playfully throws it at me and it ends up hitting my face. I catch it, shaking my head, a smile starting to emerge, but the sight of her bare body in front of me makes me have to bite down on my lip to suppress a moan.

“You’re seriously wasted.” I drop the bra onto the floor, unable to take my eyes off her long, lean legs, flat, inked stomach, her perky nipples.

“So what? So are you.” She backs up until her legs brush the bed, and then she lowers herself down onto the mattress, crooking a finger at me to follow, waiting for me to go get her. And I want to badly, but I need to be a good guy, even if it’s just once in my life.

“I’m always drunk,” I admit truthfully, slowly crossing the room toward her. “You on the other hand usually aren’t.” I stop just short of the bed where her legs are dangling over. “In fact, I’ve only seen you drunk once.”

She gives me a blank stare. “Can you seriously tell me that you’ve never slept with a girl that was drunk before?”

I shake my head. “But you’re different.” I reach out and place my hand on her cheek, intoxicated enough that I don’t give a shit how emotional I’m being. “And I don’t want to sleep with you just because you’re drunk and you’re hurting over something... I want it to mean something… for both of us.” I blow out a breath, my cock getting seriously angry with me. “But if you want to talk about it, we can. In fact, I wish you would.”

She lets out a sharp laugh. “I don’t want to talk at all.” She leans away from my hand, her expression hardening and filling with panic. “Why are you trying to be all chivalrous right now, when hours ago you were so ready to f*ck me?”