Steal My Breath (Elixir 1)

My steps falter a little as I take in the gorgeousness of this man. When I finally reach him, he’s moved from behind the bar to meet me, and his arm slides around my waist so he can pull me close.

“You okay?” he murmurs into my ear.

I can’t think straight. Between his appearance, his warm breath on my skin, his masculine scent and his goddamn hand on my ass, I think I might finally be going batshit crazy.

Pressing my hand against his chest to try to put some space between us, I mutter, “What the fuck are you wearing, anyway?” I nod at his black shirt. “What is that? And why do you feel it necessary to torment me with it?”

He looks down at his shirt and appears genuinely puzzled, but then again, he’s a male, and what do men know? Lifting his face back to mine, he says, “What’s wrong with it?”

I lift my brows, ready to go to battle. “Well, I think maybe it’s way too tight. And cottony. And it’s definitely too thin. I mean, for all the muscles I can see through its thin, cottony material, you may as well not have worn anything. And that V-neck button opening is bad for womankind. The way it’s just flapping open there, exposing that skin, is shameful. I do not need to be seeing that skin and that chest and—Jesus, Luke—those goddamn muscles. Put them away.”

Amusement has crept across his face, and I clench my hands by my side in an effort not to smack him. “Is there anything else you’re not happy with tonight?”

“Yes! Those jeans need to be burnt. Tonight. Now. This very fucking minute.” I pause. “Actually, wait. Turn around.”

He smirks. “You wanna see my ass?”

“So what if I do?”

He leans close and brushes his lips across mine. The bastard! “Anytime you wanna see a body part of mine, all you gotta do is ask. I’d be more than happy to take the jeans off for you and burn them right now if that would make you happy. The shirt, too.”

I suck in a breath.

Oh, hell no.

No, no, no.

I press against his chest. “We need to go and eat. No more talk of clothes or body parts.”

He laughs as he reaches for the takeaway bag I’m holding and leads me to his back office. I haven’t spent a lot of time in his office, so I take the opportunity to inspect it in greater detail.

It’s small, but Luke manages to keep it tidy and uncluttered. It’s a theme I’ve noticed in his personal spaces. Not that I spent very long at his home, but in that time, I observed it was clean, open, and uncluttered.

Luke has a small desk facing the door. Besides the window behind it, the desk is the first thing you see when you enter. The wall to the left has a large dark wood bookcase—it’s made of the same wood as the desk. The wall on the right is bare of furniture, but frame after frame hangs on it. A quick glance reveals photos of him, Sean, Tyler, and Paris. There are also some with an older man, who I presume might be his father because of the way they have their arms over each other’s shoulders. And then there’s one of Luke, Sean and a woman of about forty. It could be his mother, but she looks too young. Maybe an aunt?

Luke cuts into my thoughts. “It’s my mother.” At my blank look, he nods at the photo I’ve been inspecting. “In that photo, it’s Mum with me and Sean.”

I sit in the chair he gives me. “She’s so young.”

“Forty-nine this year.” He moves the office chair from his side of the desk so he can sit next to me.

I take another look at the photo. “Wow, she’s aging well. I would have picked her for under forty-five.”

Passing me a plate, he says, “It’s amazing what plastic surgery can do.”

I’m so engrossed in the photo that I don’t realise Luke has served my dinner for me. “Thank you,” I say quietly when he gives me chopsticks. I’m fighting with myself over arguing with him. It seems ungrateful not to appreciate him doing things for me, but at the same time, I need him to know I still want to do things for myself.

He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

I take a moment before trying to make him understand. These words need to come out right. “I love that you want to do things for me, but I’m capable of doing them for myself.”

“I know you can. But, you’re just going to have to get used to me doing some things for you, because that’s who I am. I’m a man who likes to take care of his woman.”

His woman.

My tummy does somersaults. I try to ignore them, though because it’s important to me that Luke understands my needs.

“I’m getting that. But what you need to know is that I’m not okay with that.”