Page 74 of King of Pain

I can see a large family room down the hall at the back of the house. Luke opens a door to the left, revealing a study. He pokes his head in, looks around, and then closes the door again.

Taking my hand, we start up the stairs, “Where are we going?” I whisper, looking back at Mike, who stands in the entry, watching our retreat.

“To the master bedroom,” he hits the top of the stairs and pauses, looking left and then right before he chooses a direction. “Wherever that is.”

I look too and spot a room at the end of the hall that has a set of double doors. He sees it too and we start down the hall.

I know he’s chosen correctly, when he throws open the doors to reveal a massive bed that fills the back wall. Stepping inside, there is a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view out to the mountains.

But Luke just keeps going, pulling me deeper into the room and to another door.

I gasp when he turns on the light for the bathroom. A giant soaking tub sits beneath more windows, a glass-doored shower taking up the end of the large room.

“How many heads do you think that shower has?”

His gaze flicks to it before he turns on the taps for the tub. “We’ll shower after.”

“After what?”

“Our bath.”

That is my Luke. Bossy as hell. But I kick off my shoes. Nothing would make me happier than to lay against him skin to skin.

He turns and adjusts the taps, checking the water as I strip off my T-shirt, reaching for the buttons of my jeans.

He turns toward me, his eyes landing on my chest, his jaw going granite-hard, his gaze dark and unreadable.

I feel my cheeks flush, insecurity pulsing through me. “Was I… was I supposed to wait?”

“No.” He stands up stripping off his T-shirt too. “I can’t wait…”

My face flames. He’s forgotten what I look like. Everything is new again. But it makes me feel a little embarrassed. “I don’t get naked in front of men very often. It’s new and…”

“If you think I’m judging, love, I’m not.” And then he steps up in front of me, reaching to unclip my bra. The straps slide part way down my shoulders. He brushes them the rest of the way down my arms, as the cups fall away from my breasts.

“Christ,” he mutters. “So fucking perfect.”

I blush even deeper. “You said… you told me you like the color of my…” I swallow down a lump. “Nipples.”

“Oh. I do,” he answers, but he doesn’t touch them. Instead, he skims his fingers along my collarbone. Goosepimples break out all over my skin.

It feels like he’s seducing me in a way he didn’t the first time. I want to ask, but his middle finger is gliding down my chest, sliding between my breasts.

They continue right down my belly, until they reach the button of my jeans.

I’m already panting, my nipples pebbled, and my back arching. He undoes the button and the zipper, grabbing the waist and shimmying the tight pants over my hips.

I wiggle to help him, and with a growl, he drops into a crouch.

My jeans are around my knees, only my underwear is covering me. He tips forward, running his nose over the fabric covering my pussy. “When’s the last time we had sex?”

“This morning,” I reply just before his tongue darts out, licking at my still-covered slit. My head tips back and my hands come to his hair.

“How often do we fuck?”

But he starts licking swirling his tongue, the fabric only making it even more erotic.

I’m pulling at his hair. “Like rabbits,” I gasp.

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