Page 48 of Memories with Fire

He’s down the rest of the steps in the blink of an eye, grabbing my face with one hand, hauling me to him with the other. My arms are around his neck as his lips slam into mine in a bruising, punishing kiss that we both need. He tastes like soda and mint, and I moan into the kiss as his tongue slides across my lips, seeking access, which I grant.

Luke’s hand slides through my hair to the back of my head, holding me firmly to him, while I try to pull him towards me. When his arm around me squeezes in an effort to get our bodies closer, which isn’t going to happen in the middle of his front yard, I whimper from the pain that shoots through my upper body.

Instantly he releases his grip on me, effectively ruining the kiss. His forehead comes to rest against mine, both of us breathing harder than before. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

I run my tongue across my lips then tilt my head to find his again, murmuring, “Don’t stop.”

He indulges me for a few moments, then finally pulls away. “Inside,” he says quietly, finding my hand.

For once, I’m not inclined to argue with him, following him up the steps where he picks my bag up and leads me into the house.

The scent of Luke is all around me as I step over the threshold, making me feel dizzy in the best way. It’s warm and appealing, much like the outside of his home, which is mirrored within the interior as well.

Inside the entryway is a set of stairs that leads to the second level. Beyond that, the house gives way to a living room on the right, kitchen on the left, everything open and inviting. A large island in the kitchen separates the cooking area from a nook adorned with a round, light oak table with dark brown chairs that compliments the darker wood of the walls and lightens up the entire room. A dark leather couch and loveseat in the living room look welcoming and cozy, the room lit up with a light-colored shag carpet in the middle.

For a bachelor who hasn’t been here that long, he’s certainly made his house into a home. I love everything about it. It speaks of Luke. A man who has always known what he wants and goes after it. He was like that ten years ago, and everything I’ve seen of him up until this point tells me it hasn’t changed.

In my perusal to check the place out, I must have taken a few steps further inside without realizing it because he comes up behind me, strong arms circling my waist. I lean my head back to his shoulder, eyes falling closed when his lips touch the shell of my ear.

This is what I need. Him. Ten years between us, and so much to talk about, but the only thing I can think about in this moment is him.

“Hungry?” he murmurs.

“Only for you,” I reply, turning my head as he groans.

I find his lips easily, though I know he has something to do with that. A wave of heat washes over me, starting from the crown of my head until it hits the tips of my toes. My center throbs as his erection presses against my ass, yet there’s no hurry for either of us.

We stay like that for a few minutes, kissing languidly, enjoying the way each other tastes, refamiliarizing ourselves with how the other feels. When I sigh against his lips, it seems to prompt him into action.

My feet are shuffling along the floor, but I don’t look where we’re going. Even when we stop again, and he turns me to face him without breaking our kiss, I don’t bother to look. I trust him completely.

Slipping my arms around his neck, I know it’s coming before it happens. Though I’m softer and rounder than ten years ago, he lifts me into his arms like I’m nothing, even though I know that’s untrue. My legs circle his waist, locking behind him, then we’re moving up the stairs, our lips never ceasing their slow dance. They don’t part as we move to his bedroom, nor when he puts a knee on the bed and lowers me to it, following me down as I cling to him.

This kiss might last the entire night, and I would be entirely okay with it.

I moan when his hands push up beneath my sweatshirt, my stomach clenching from the sensation of his fingertips running across my skin. It’s then that he pauses our kiss, his head lifting from mine. When I open my eyes, I see him gazing down at me, heat blazing in his eyes along with concern.

Concern?

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, afraid to use anything more for fear it will break this trance we’ve found ourselves in.

“You’re still freezing,” he tells me, shifting his crewneck I’m wearing further up my body. His hands run all over my stomach and sides, fingertips dancing along my ribcage, easy access to every inch of my skin since my shirt and bra are in the back of his Jeep, sopping wet. “How are you this cold?”

I smile at him, enjoying the way his hands move. “I assure you I’m not cold.”

Luke’s head disappears beneath the sweatshirt and when I feel his nose running from my sternum all the way up through the valley of my breasts, I gasp from the direct heat it causes in my core.

“Your skin is frozen,” he mumbles, his head rising enough that when I look down, I can see him through the head of the crewneck which he’s now stretching. It would make me laugh if I couldn’t see the seriousness in his eyes. “Don’t move.”

I want to protest when he pops out from the sweatshirt and leaves me on the bed by myself, but I don’t bother. There’s no point when I know he won’t listen to me. Twisting my head so I can watch him, he heads through a door that leads into a master bathroom. A second later, the shower turns on, making me smile to myself. I’ll trade him getting up and leaving me for a naked shower with him any day.

“Dang,” he drawls with appreciation, reappearing in the bathroom doorway. His shirt is off, and I feast my eyes on ridges and indents all along his upper body, unable to help my eyes as they slide along the treasure trail of hair that disappears into his jeans. “You’re such a good girl. You hardly moved. The only thing that would make me harder right now is if you were naked.”

Pushing myself up, I ignore the ache in my chest as I move, getting to my feet as Luke saunters back to me, working the button and fly on his pants. Wetness pools between my thighs when his cock, still contained by his boxer briefs, bulges from the restriction of his jeans. He lets them drop, kicking out of them as he steps up to me, his hands quickly working to free me of his sweatshirt.

I shiver as the air hits my skin. Maybe I am cold, though I feel anything but.

“Gonna get you warm,” he tells me, and I know he saw my body’s reaction to being topless.

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