Page 59 of Luka

I watch his eyes as he talks, search for a break in contact, but he stares me down as he speaks.

Did that really happen?

“Look, you can take whatever chances you want to take.” Luka shrugs. “It’s your life. I’m not gonna tie you down or gag you here.”

I’m not gonna tie you down or gag you here.

My eyes lower to his chest at those words, my lips parting with a slow exhale. I don’t know why that brings me so much relief, not when I asked him to bring me here. Not when there’s nowhere to run, and even if there was, he knows I wouldn’t do it.

But I’m not his prisoner anymore. I’m not sure what I am to him, but I’m not his prisoner. That reality sends a wave of relief crashing down on me that makes my knees quake and threaten to buckle.

I really am safe here. At least safe from Luka.

He takes my chin and lifts it so I’ll look at him, then he gets close enough to me that my chest brushes his torso. He leans down so his lips are close to mine, and although I’m not his prisoner, I’m too frozen to pull away.

He smiles like he can tell what I’m thinking then puts his mouth to my ear. “You smell like marijuana and piss.”

My face reddens as I try to step away, but Luka grabs the shirt to stop me. He takes it by the hem and starts to lift.

“Stop!”

He pauses, his head tilted as he stares at me.

“I-I’m not your prisoner,” I say, pushing his hands off the shirt. He raises a brow but pulls his hands away.

“Turn around,” I command.

His eyes widen as he rears back. “What?” he asks with a startled laugh.

I twirl my finger.

“Seriously?”

I stand taller. “I don’t know how much of that story you gave me was bullshit, but I’m guessing if I screamedhere, it would matter. I don’t think you want me to tell your sister how perverted you are, and I don’t think that’s all for my benefit. So turn around,Peach. I’m not your prisoner here.”

He blinks at me, not moving for several seconds until I open my mouth and suck in a breath as if I’m going to scream. He turns quickly and groans.

“Good boy,” I say, a rush of power lifting my chest. “Now take off your shirt.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he grumbles.

“Do it,Peach.”

“All right, seriously, don’t call me that. It’s too far.”

“What’s wrong, Peach?” I ask. “You don’t like to be degraded?”

I gasp when Luka spins and, in a single step, slams into me, his hand slapping over my mouth. He backs us up to the bed while I muffle protests against his palms and try to break away from his hold, only to be caged in when he flattens me on the mattress. He holds my wrists together above my head with one large hand while covering my mouth with the other.

“Oops,” he says, his face inches from mine. “You forgot I’m bigger than you.”

His knee parts my legs, the shirt lifting to expose me to his erection when he grinds against me, only the material of his jeans separating us.

I suck in through my nose and shut my eyes, my wiggling coming to a halt. I lay still while he grinds himself against me, putting friction on a part of me that heats my core and spreads tingles across my clit, all without the use of his hands.

A minute passes. Then another. But it feels like an eternity, and I go from wishing he would stop to subtly vibrating his palm with a moan. And I knew this would happen. I knew my body would want him, that my core would start to melt, that my hips would begin to move with his. He winds me tight with the friction of his pants until I feel like I might come from it alone, andthatwould be embarrassing. And exactly what he wants.

He kisses my forehead, then my cheek, just above his palm. He removes his hand, allowing me to suck in a gasp just before he covers my mouth with his lips. He holds my face and hands so I can’t break away, and this is the excuse I give when I part my lips for him, letting him explore my mouth. I’m reminded of our kiss outside the bar, back when he was saving me. And I guess he still is, as confusing as that is to wrap my head around.

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