“Touch me,” I said. “I want you to touch me.” The words came out a broken, thirsty plea, and hid all the other things I wanted to say. Like asking him to be mine and no one else’s.
“Alltid, min Älskling,” he said, his accent rolling around the words I couldn’t understand, but I could feel the meaning behind them. The warmth and longing and rawness in the way he shaped them. “Stanna kvar.” He crushed his lips on mine, and I opened for him, drinking him in. “Stanna kvar,” he said, sighing between my lips, his hands roaming over every inch of my body like he’d feared he’d never do it again.
I whimpered against his kiss, relishing the taste of him, the sweet way his tongue explored my mouth, stealing my breath and pooling heat between my thighs. Slowly, he moved us, shifting me until my back was against one of the shelves stacked with books in his office.
“I missed you,” he said, the words clear and clanging through the heart of me. “Missed this.” He emphasized it with another sweeping kiss.
“I did too,” I admitted, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I was afraid…so afraid—”
“Don’t be,” he said, kissed the line of my jaw, the seam of my neck. “Never of me. Please, Faith. Please.”
I tilted my head back, enough to catch his gaze. He meant it, he hated the idea of me running, as he’d said before, of the idea that I’d see him as a prize like so many women had before. A story to tell, a piece of gossip.
I gripped his shoulders, and he let me spin him until his back was against the shelves. Slowly, I kissed my way down the column of his throat, over the exposed chest from his unbuttoned shirt, and lower, until I’d sank to my knees before him.
“Älskling.” He sighed as I undid his belt and zipper until his slacks had fallen around his ankles, and he’d kicked them off.
“You are more,” I said, stroking the beautiful length of him over his red boxer briefs. “So much more than you think.” I slid my fingers into the hem of his underwear and tugged them down too.
My heart raced at the sight of him, so smooth and hard and aching for me.
Me.
And I flashed my eyes up to him as I took him in both hands, smiling, allowing him to see all the things I couldn’t say.
That he meant something to me.
Something more than I was even able to admit to myself.
But I could show him.
I held his gaze as I guided him to my mouth, my body trembling and tangling with nerves—but my desire to show him how much he meant to me outweighed my fear of inexperience. Timidly, I took his silken head into my mouth and moaned at the taste of him—heat and salt and him.
He hissed as I swirled my tongue around his head, and lower, trailing it over his long shaft and back again. I pumped and sucked and let go of every insecurity I had, and let my body do the work. Let my mind soar with the growling sounds coming from his chest, let myself delight in the way he gripped the shelves, the wood groaning beneath his strength.
I did that to him.
I drove him this crazy.
And I absolutely loved it. Because he did the same to me, always.
Harder, faster, I devoured him, my body a tight, live-wire honed into his movements, his scent.
“Faith,” he hissed, his fingers tangled in my hair one moment, and the next…
I was on my feet, my pants and panties whisked off with the graceful and strong movements only Lukas could manage.
“Faith,” he said again, slipping my shirt over my head, freeing my breasts from the lace bra I’d been wearing until I was completely bare for him.
I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, my entire body trembling before he ripped the thing over his head and tossed it to the side.
I drank him in, the smooth planes of his chest, the deep grooves of muscles decorating his abdomen. The delicious v-lines that pointed the way to what had just been in my mouth.
“Lukas,” I mimicked him as he kissed my neck and lower, flicking a nipple before smoothing the hurt with his tongue. I gasped at the contrast, my body arching toward his with need.
He dipped his hand between my thighs, growling when he met the slickness there. I moved on his fingers, silently begging him with my body, showing him what I needed.
That wolfish grin flashed, the hunger churning in those blue eyes as he kissed me, long and deep until I was dizzy with his taste.
His hands grazed over my shoulders, teased my breasts, and trailed lower, until he palmed the globes of my ass, and hefted me up and up.
I locked my ankles around his hips, sighing as he lined our bodies, his hard length poised right at the center of me.
“Faith,” he said, this time in question, as he pressed his forehead against mine.
“Yes,” I answered. “Now. Please,” I said, trying to remember my manners. The notion delighted him from the look in his eyes and the smile on his lips as he teased my entrance.
I rocked against him, slowly, trying to take him in as he held me against that shelf.
“More,” I said, begged. I gripped his shoulder with one hand, my other on the shelf for leverage. “I want you. All of you.”
“Jag är din.” He whispered the words against my lips, and in one smooth motion, he’d seated himself to the hilt.
“Yes!” I moved on him as he held still, allowing me to adjust to the size of him. “Harder,” I said when he seemed content to hold me there in sweet agony.
He pumped, faster, harder, taking care to hold me steady as he had his way with me.
And all I could do was gasp and moan and roll my head back against those books as he unleashed himself on me. As he gave and gave and I took and took. As I let myself be wholly his, completely at his mercy, as he pounded into me in the most primal, pleasurable way I’d ever experienced.
I clawed at the shelf, using it to meet his thrusts, whimpering as he wrenched one orgasm from me and wasted no time in sending me into another.
An edge of desperation in those glacial eyes as they locked with mine.
As he moved in
side me, fast and hard and consuming.
As I drank in every piece of him and laid myself bare.
My body became a tight thing, coiling with an aching heat that was desperate for release.
The hands that held me up, bit into my skin with the sweetest amount of pressure, and I became a wild, breathless thing. Lukas pumped faster, hardening inside me another degree, as he found his own release, drawing out mine in a whirl of sparks and chills, my muscles tightening and loosening all at once.
Books toppled to the floor as I keened, my vision blurring as we continued to move on each other, working slowly down from the high.
A rumbling had me focusing on Lukas’ face, where he laughed.
“What is funny?” I gaped at him, our faces glistening with sweat.
He glanced down, our bodies still joined, and looked at the floor before returning a chiding look to me. “Those are first editions,” he teased.
I pressed my lips together to hide my smile, and gripped his hair, slightly tugging his head back until his lips were near mine. “You can take it out of my pay,” I challenged before claiming his mouth.
Chapter 15
Lukas
I threw the car into park in front of Faith’s townhouse and let my head slam back against the headrest.
“I’m telling you it’s not true. That it’s mathematically impossible!” My hands clenched into fists as fury vibrated down my limbs.
“And I’m telling you that’s not going to matter.” Langley’s voice was calm, almost fucking serene as it came through my car’s speakers.
“Well, it should! Whatever happened to responsible journalism?”
“Responsible and tabloids don’t go together,” she reminded me.
My mind raced, trying to think of something—anything that could fix this before the shit hit the fan. I was in the right. That would come out eventually. But in the meantime...fuck, I was going to burn alive.