My mouth dropped open. Was he playfully teasing me, or being a jerk? “I’m not perfect.”
Luka softly brushed his knuckles over my cheekbone. When I shuddered from the contact, his eyes flashed with desire. “See, now, I disagree.”
Jesus, where the hell was the air? Goosebumps lifted on the skin of my bare legs as his fingers cupped my chin and tilted my lips to meet his once more.
This time the kiss was dangerous. It flared wildly, consuming everything. I’d kissed boys before. I’d had boyfriends and fooled around, but it’d never been anything like this. Luka’s grip on my chin gave way and his fingers dove into the hair at the nape of my neck, twining in the strands.
“Oh,” I gasped as he yanked hard, tugging my head back. His grip was almost painful, but the shock of it was exciting. My one serious boyfriend had been timid and awkward, so this was unfamiliar.
Confidence rolled off of Luka like he knew with absolute certainty what he was doing. As if he understood just how much grip in my hair I could take. His teeth were less subtle this time on my neck. The sharp stubble dotting his jawline grazed against my skin and, when I instinctively tried to move away, his fist clenched tighter in my hair, holding me in place. Keeping me from escaping.
My breath raged through my parted lips as his other hand was on my hip, yanking me so our lower bodies collided, and I could feel something hard pressing against my stomach, something I was sure wasn’t his fake gun.
“Am I hurting you?” His dark voice rang out between my gasps for breath.
I tried to shake my head, but his hold wouldn’t allow it. I had no choice but to use words, so I said it in a shaky voice. “No.”
“Good.”
His hand glided down my hip, over the fabric of my skirt, all the way past the hem and onto the bare skin of my thigh. I bit down on my lip and closed my eyes as his hand crept inward, sliding toward my center. It inched up, raising my skirt with it. Up, and up . . .
I had to stop this before it went any further. My head was buzzing from the alcohol and his kiss, and I didn’t want to make a decision I’d regret later, even though my body was eager for his hand to continue its journey north of my hemline.
Luka paused when I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, urging him to stop. “Wait,” I whispered. I’d stopped him just a fraction of an inch from my panties, which was closer than any man had gotten in a long time.
His gaze locked on to mine, and then his fingers twitched. They reached up just enough to touch me through the damp cotton covering the most intimate part of myself. I bucked, but remained ensnared as Luka’s captive.
He drew back and seemed pleased with my reaction. “I’m gonna lock the door,” he said. His voice was so deep and quiet, it was almost a growl. “You’ll go sit on the couch.”
Chapter
Three
Once again, his strict tone made it impossible to do anything but obey, and yet my anxiety leapt to a whole new level. You can fool around a little bit, the wicked, tequila-enhanced voice in my head whispered. He didn’t tell you to get on the bed.
I went to the couch and sank down until the leather was cold against the backs of my legs. My hands tensed into fists around the hem of my skirt, holding it in place as Luka turned the small dial on the doorknob. I couldn’t hear the click of the lock sliding in place, but I felt it. It snapped through my body like a bolt of electricity.
As he stalked toward me, he swayed. No, wait, was that me? The tequila was working fast. Luka’s expression shuttered, and then he licked his lips. Was it intentional? Was I a meal he was about to devour? I crossed my legs beneath the skirt, feeling twitchy and weirdly achy.
My head ticked back with each step he took so I could keep looking up at him.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked in a light voice.
My hand flew to my face, confirming it was true. I was buzzing hard and had reached the first level of my drunkenness. Phase one, the uncontrollable smiling.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly and tried to look sober.
Luka didn’t seem to buy it as he sat beside me. Right beside me. As his weight came down on the couch, I fell into him, one hand bracing myself on his thigh. Beneath the fabric of his pants, the muscle was hard, and I stroked the length. Wait, what was I doing? Petting him? I ripped my hand back, embarrassed.