Page 31 of Sins and Secrets

So he was being polite, I guess. I squeak, about to raise my hand to wave, but if I lift my arm too much, my shirt will expose all my lady bits. “You look fancy. Are you heading to the bar?” Please ignore that I’m wearing a faded, high school senior year T-shirt.

His grin grows. “Darren and I are going out to a club.” He pushes himself off the wall and takes a few steps toward me.

“Oh, you don't seem like the club type. Loud techno music, small talk and dancing. Especially after traveling.” Yep none of those things seem to fit Lukas's brand. He seems to be more of a metal guy, working in a tattoo shop most evenings and weekends.

Whenever he’s in a room, my eyes find excuses to stare at him.

He takes one more step and tilts his head. “Not that kind of club.”

“Knitting?” I chuckle at my own joke.

He shrugs and stalks closer. “Well, there are knots involved.” His body seems to fill the space in the hallway, his presence larger than life. “But if you need me here…”

I step back slowly as if he’s a predator, and he’s zeroed in on me as his prey. “What do you mean?” My body is pressed against the wall as he invades my space.

He motions toward my bedroom with his head. “You put on one hell of a show, but you...” He clicks his tongue and braces his hand in the space above my head, towering over me, “...should’ve called. I would have made it last longer. Like I said, I didn’t want to interrupt.” His breath is on my cheek. God, he is so close. My chest pressing against his as my breath quickens. “Isn’t it frustrating you can’t get yourself off as well as I can.”

What? I cover my mouth, a huge mistake as my bare ass presses against the wainscoting. “How? What?”

“You left your balcony door open, and there's a mirror.” He fills my whole field of vision, rubbing his sharp chin with a hand like he’s mulling over the answer to a riddle, then slams his hand on the wall, trapping me. “I enjoyed the whole thing, very much.”

My eyes burn with acid tears of humiliation. He watched. Too many thoughts jam in my head at once. Why would he do that? Those are the obvious questions, but the darker thoughts push through, too. Does he get off on watching other people? Was it an opportunity thing, or did he want to watch me? Did he enjoy what he saw? If he knew what I was doing, why didn’t he join. Does he not want me anymore? Our summer flings are long over and I guess forgotten.

I slam my eyes shut, hoping it will stop any tears. My lower jaw quivers. Then his stubbled chin presses against my cheek as he whispers, “You were magnificent.” His hot lips kiss the soft skin on my neck, and my lower region dampens as my entire body reacts to his words.

Three words. His lips aren’t even on my skin, but he does more for me than anything I did for myself in the last half hour.

A traitorous tear must’ve escaped, as his thumb traces the curves of my cheek. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice is thick with a timbre I've never heard before. I open my eyes to see Lukas’s predatory smirk shift slightly, like he knows a secret and is going to spill. Does he want “us” at all, or is he messing with me? Does toying with my feelings make it easier when he leaves forever.

His fingers brush against my neck and I shiver. Cold, someone must’ve left the door open. That’s it. My skin prickles, my muscles vibrating as his fingertips trace a path past my shoulder, stopping at my wrist.

“Oh, God.” I’m such a dizzying mess of emotions and hormones, and I honestly can’t tell if it was getting caught or the way his thigh has snuck between my legs that induces a multitude of conflicting thoughts to fly through my head. Between the coolness of the wall against my back and his heat pressed against my core, I am a frenzy of emotions. And he watches.

“Do you like this?”

His thigh presses between my legs and I gasp. He still holds my wrist and raises it above my head.

A groan, almost a whimper, escapes my lips. “Yes.”

“Do you like that you can’t move?The way I’m controlling every aspect of you?”

His free hand hovers over me, trapping me in place, then drops quickly and grips my hip, pushing me against his thigh, creating the friction I crave. When I moan again, his eyes bore through me, watching and analyzing every hint my body gives away.

“Both,” I whisper. More! I want more.

He continues grinding my center against his leg. God, what if I get his pants wet? How could I ever look him in the eye again?

But he doesn’t seem to be concerned.

“Then you should’ve waited for me.”

“I didn’t know you were here.” The pressure builds harder than I expect.

“I could finish you off right here, right now.” I remember the sensation of his hands on me, all these years his touch has been burned into my skin. His voice is a husky promise and, God, I want it. That’s why his vibe is all off. Oh, God. We’ve been hooking up for years now, but tonight feels different. Like we’re about to cross some threshold between messing around to something more. Something darker… Something I’ve only read about.

Footsteps down the hall break the spell. He drops his leg and hands, and I’m instantly aware of their absence. Flickers of panic flash across his face. Is he afraid of getting caught? Like being with me is such an awful crime?

He pushes himself off of me, opening the bathroom and lifting me over the threshold in one swift motion. Is he coming in with me?

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