Wheeler (Seattle Sharks 8)

Chapter 12

Faith

I stared up at the gothic cathedral, Lukas’s arm draped over my shoulders to protect from the crisp morning breeze. Twelve days of working, touring, and nights spent between Lukas’s immaculate silk sheets, and I still wasn’t used to the lifestyle that naturally came with his world.

“What do you think?” he asked, his eyes more on me than the cathedral’s incredible stonework.

“It’s breathtaking. Straight out of a Poe novel.”

He smiled, tha

t soft, easy grin that had been present ever since we’d come together. Officially.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said, finally glancing up at the structure.

“Love it,” I said, leaning into him. The sounds of the lake that was near the cathedral lapped behind us—the chill in the air caused by not only the early hour but the wind off the water. It glistened in the sunlight, as did the stones that constructed the ancient building.

“Want to go inside?”

“Absolutely,” I said, letting him lead the way. “Wow,” I whispered once inside, terrified if I spoke too loudly I’d break the spell. Rich wooden beams complimented the rustic brick, and our shoes clicked against the slick patterned stone floor. Golden light filled the room, both from the arched glass windows and the hanging chandeliers peppering the ceiling. I spared a glance to Lukas and found him watching me again. “Is this all old news to you?”

He laughed softly, tucking me in tighter against his side, a motion that somehow still filled my entire body with warmth, despite how frequent he’d done it lately. “Yes and no,” he said. “I admire the history here, but I grew up with it. It’s much more fascinating to watch you experience it for the first time.”

A thrill raced through me, the way he was so intently looking at me like he had no other care in the world but us. There was a beautiful sense of detachment here—a world away from the obligations and pressures of home. Here, I worked for him, sure, but it wasn’t as official a feeling as it was in Seattle. When we returned home in a mere four days…

Lukas smoothed a finger between my brows, and I blinked out of my thoughts. “Where did you go?”

“Here,” I said, slipping my hand underneath his suit jacket, resting it on the center of his chest. “I’m right here.”

He covered my hand with his own before tugging it away and planting a kiss on my palm.

The wide-open cathedral had suddenly grown ten degrees hotter, and a deep hunger raked my insides.

Lukas’s eyes flashed, a smirk on his lips. “Seen enough of history for one morning, have you?”

I playfully smacked his chest. “You can’t read me that well.”

He snaked an arm around my back, bringing my body flush against his, and pressed his cheek against mine. “I can, you know,” he whispered in my ear, chills racing across my arms. He inhaled deeply, keeping his lips at my ear. “Your eyes tell as many stories as your body, and they’re my favorite thing to read.”

I sighed, a tremble shaking my body as he stroked that hand up my spine. “I know from your breathing how close you are. Know from the chills on your skin what you’re thinking. Just as sure as I know I could drag you to a corner, slip my hand beneath these tortuously tight pants, and find you slick. In fact, I’d like nothing more than to do just that, if only so I could lick my fingers and taste you throughout the rest of our little tour.”

My knees wobbled…wobbled.

Lukas pulled back, enough to look down at me. “Deny me?” he challenged.

And I wanted to. Just to wipe the cocky smile off those delicious lips. But instead, I sighed, “Never.”

Another soft laugh from him, delight dancing in his eyes. Too happy, too satisfied with my insatiable craving for him.

“Prove it,” I managed to say before I could lose my courage.

His eyes flashed wide, and I devoured the shocked look on his face.

I arched a brow at him, totally high off matching Lukas at his own game. I unhooked myself from him, my hands clasped behind my back as I continued to survey the cathedral. It was empty of tourists, the early morning hour likely keeping traffic low. Only two security guards stood at the entrance of the room and looked gloriously bored.

Almost too easily, I spotted an alcove, darkened and away from prying eyes. I glanced over my shoulder, giving Lukas the same wicked grin he constantly flashed me before heading straight to that spot. I saw him turn and nod to his driver, who headed toward the security guards near the entrance.

I didn’t need to turn around to know Lukas followed me. I could feel him there—feel the heat from his body, the saunter in his confident gait, the primal need rolling off him in waves.

Before I could spin around to face him in our darkened corner, he’d grasped my shoulders, his chest against my back, his lips returning to my ear.

“You’re a wicked, torturous queen,” he whispered, his breath coating my neck, sending tendrils of heat along my skin.

I arched my rear against him, gasping when I felt every gloriously hard inch of him.

“I’ve learned from the most wicked of them all,” I said, drunk on the game we were playing. On the knowledge that I wanted him to do some very naughty things to me in a very public place. Aware that I’d never once been so lost, so enamored by someone that I would lose my inhibitions entirely.

But Lukas…he made me feel this way—crazy and desirable and beautiful and cherished.

Another arch against him, and he spun me around, my back against the wall, as he pinned my hands above my head.

“And what better way to show my devotion to my queen, than…” His words trailed off as he sank, lower and lower before me until he was on his knees. Those glacial eyes flickered up to me, always asking, waiting for my reaction, as he hooked his hands in the band of my leggings.

I nodded, my heart racing too hard to speak.

His grin was equal parts beautiful and cruel—cruel with how my body reacted, oversensitive and aching and thirsting for this man.

Lukas peeled the fabric down, slipping the end over one ballet flat, freeing any restraint but leaving one leg on—as if he knew we’d have to make a quick exit at any moment.

That notion only fueled the fire in my blood.

The danger, the excitement—it was Lukas personified.

“Lace,” he practically growled at the sight of the black lace I wore—newly purchased. “Is this from the shop we saw last week?”

I nodded again, my breath coming too fast and sharp still to speak.

“You went back?” Another delighted smile.

“You said you liked the black,” I finally found my voice, though it came out a harsh whisper. Harper had accompanied me to the quaint shop, laughing when I suggested she buy a few items herself. I’d finally convinced her, after an hour of browsing, that she’d likely not be back in Sweden any time soon and should take advantage of the moment.

Lukas slid his tongue over the fabric, grounding me firmly in the present, and I threw my head back, my oversensitive flesh sparking. “Indeed I do,” he said, his mouth against me, the vibrations from his voice doing delicious things to my body.

Drawing his eyes up to meet mine, he watched me as he slipped a finger beneath that lace. The blue in his eyes turned molten when he met my warmth, dragged his fingertip through the center of me, and withdrew it. Instantly, never losing my eyes, he took the pad of his finger inside his mouth and sucked. “Älskling,” he murmured when he’d returned those fingers beneath my lace.

“What does that mean?” I sighed, arching into his touch. He still hadn’t told me, and he’d made me promise not to Google it. He enjoyed the game far too much, of watching me lose it when he spoke to me in that tongue.

“Du är min,” he whispered, his mouth over the fabric and his deft fingers under it, stroking me, teasing me, working me into a gasping mess. “Min vackra.” He withdrew his fingers, using them to shove the lace to the side, and replaced them with his mouth.

“Lukas!” I gasped as he hooked my bare leg over his shoulder, tucking so close between my thighs he had all the leverage and access in the world. “Omigod,” I whispered, trembling as he licked the length of my seam, trailing so lightly over that bundle of nerves that I quivered with each trip he made.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, gripping him like a lifeline—like he was all that tethered me to this world. He had the power to send me into orbit and ground me at the same time. He kneaded my rear with his free hand, holding on to it while

I arched into his mouth, meeting his tongue with each thrust until every piece of my soul was a coiled spring.

“Lukas,” I said again, my thighs clenching, my body trembling. “I’m…you’re…oh my god.” He had me on the edge, wired tight and biting so hard on my lip to stop me from screaming. Flattening his tongue, he pressed on that spot before sucking, and I shattered completely. The throes of the orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave until I was limp and raw with pleasure.

Slowly, gently, Lukas hooked his hand underneath my knee as he stood, aligning his body with mine. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sliding some curls out of my face and planting a near-chaste kiss on my lips.

“And we’re not done,” I said, breathless as I reached for the zipper on his pants.

“Faith.” His eyes flashed wide as I gripped the hard length of him, swirling my fingers around the smooth as silk skin, and guided him to my still throbbing center. He hissed as I teased us both. “I didn’t bring anything,” he said, his words clipped, on edge from the way I used his cock to torture us both.

”I don’t care,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m on the pill. And I want you. Now.”

“I’ve never…” he wetted his lips, his eyes flashing. “I’ve never done that before.”

I smiled, the notion touching something deep inside me. The idea that no woman had ever experienced Lukas bare...it shot a thrill straight through my heart. “Then I want to be your first,” I said, calling back to how he was mine. “Do you trust me?” I asked, mimicking his words from weeks ago.

True vulnerability colored his features and something more, something…deeper, as he nodded.

“Then fuck me,” I demanded like a true queen, riding the wave of bold power he’d supplied me with.

That wicked grin was back, and he took one of my hands and pinned it to the wall, the other was occupied hooking my leg around his hip, positioning himself at my entrance.

“Yes, my queen,” he said as he slowly, agonizingly, slid in and in and in. Until he was sheathed to the hilt. Until nothing was between us.