Page 32 of Up In Smoke

Several hours later, with all of it churning through her head, she had hopped in her car and driven halfway across town. In a small set of quadruplex buildings, the pink stucco chipping and the numbers often hanging by a single nail, she found the door she was looking for and knocked.

A sleepy-eyed Luke Hernandez seemed as surprised to see her as she was to be here. He wore only sweatpants that he seemed to have hastily pulled on to answer the door. He blinked as though he wasn’t quite awake and unknowingly reached up and scratched at his bare chest.

And, with that move, Ivy forgot what she had come for.

Her bag was slung over her shoulder, but she forgot about the contents as she stepped boldly past him. As she brushed against his skin, she felt the warmth from where she'd clearly roused him from a deep sleep.

He still hadn't said anything but was sloe-eyed as he pushed the door closed behind her and turned around. Forgetting everything she'd prepared to say, Ivy heard her bag fall to the floor with athudas her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him with everything she had.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Luke kissed her back. Had she already forgotten what he tasted like? Because she knew it was good, but she’d not remembered it was this good.

Her tongue swept into his mouth, searching for more, for whatever it was that only he seemed to have. Maybe she’d been lying to herself, telling her brain that it wasn’t this good, that her body didn’t flare with desire just from getting close enough to smell him.

She couldn’t have let go of him if she’d tried. It didn’t help that Luke’s arms were around her, too. The bulk of her heavy coat had been necessary against the cold, but it was only in her way now. He was half naked and her clothing was far too much barrier for what her body craved.

He pulled at her coat and she heard it fall to the floor but didn’t bother to look. Her hands were too busy roaming his skin, her mouth was too occupied with his. She pushed him up against his own door, intending to ravage him, but he gently moved her back.

Ivy froze.

Did he not want …

But his eyes and his fingers went to the front of her white button-down shirt and he began popping each button one by one.

He wanted her. She could feel the flare in her own eyes, smell the need on him that equaled her own, and practically taste the need in the air. She wondered if he could see it on her. But he wasn’t even looking; his eyes were following the path of open shirt and exposed skin that he created.

When he hit the bottom of the row, she was struggling to pop the buttons at the wrists of the shirt that she’d carefully lined up and fitted into place one-handed this morning. He was right, she was the very definition of “buttoned up.” Would it be so wrong to dress in a manner that Luke could more easily peel her clothing from her body?

Or would this be the last time? Were she and Luke just a passing phase until their need was sated?

She dropped the shirt to the floor and dove for him. Their mouths met again, and this time her bra was the only thing stopping full skin contact. Her hands skimmed up his chest and she pressed herself against him, wanting to devour him. Wanting him inside her and making her scream.

But as she took a breath, she realized that Luke wasn’t ravaging her.

His hands skimmed along her arms, the lightest of touches leaving tingles and goosebumps in their wake. Though he was pushed against the door, he took her hands in his, holding them overhead as he leaned into her and his mouth made a leisurely trek, tasting every corner and testing every inch.

He was supposed to be her conquest, and instead he was leaned against the door, no longer caged, but leading an expedition. Her heart thumped in odd time and fear traced her veins along with the fire she couldn’t ignore. She overcame it by tugging her hands free and pushing into him again.

Their mouths dueled, and she was more content with this speed. His hands cupped her jaw, holding her in place as he—finally—rolled his hips against hers and let her know how much he wanted her.

But again, he pulled back and pushed her away.

“Luke?”

Had she misjudged?

“Shhhhh.” He whispered the soft sound and kissed her again, this time a simple, sweet lingering of lips that again had fear curling fingers around her heart. “Slow down.”

Her breath skipped. She wanted to sayno. She didn’t know how to slow down. Life number one had been devoid of anything to do with sex or lovemaking. She hadn’t even seen it on TV, and aside from her first kiss in that club—which she now realized wasn’t even worth a spark—she’d had no experience. Life number two had been about exploring everything denied to her. But there had been nothing slow or sweet or hotly seductive about it.

Her eyes opened and found his. He was asking her to trust him.

Half of her knew she couldn’t.

She couldn’t trust anyone.

The other half of her begged for it. “I don’t know.”

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