Page 67 of Shattered Illusion

The silence stretches on, bordering on uncomfortable now that he doesn’t seem to know how to reply. Taking a chance, I blurt, “Stay the night with me?” before covering my face with my hands, no doubt turning as bright red as a tomato.

Strong fingers grip my wrists, pulling them away from my face until all I can see is the man on top of me.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Luka sounds so unsure of himself, of us, and of what I want. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms tonight.

“Yeah,” I whisper shyly, trying to duck away and hide how that admission makes me feel. It’s a big step for me, for us. There’s no telling how the night will fully play out, but if an opportunity presents itself, I’m not going to deny it.

I want him with every fiber of my being. And I don’t think it’s the mate bond pushing for it, either. It’s all me.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” he murmurs, nudging my nose with his. “As long as the headmaster isn’t going to start shit with you over it.”

“Pfft.” I blow a raspberry. “It’s rare I see the overgrown rock bird anyway. If he has a problem, he can take it up with me later. Or, you know, never.”

Luka smothers a laugh. “Did you just call the headmaster a rock bird?”

“Mhmm. Yep. But you forgot the overgrown part.”

“Oh, my bad, goddess. An overgrown rock bird. I’m almost afraid to ask if you have names like that for the rest of us.”

I squint up at him, debating if I want to go down this rabbit hole with him. Ehh, fuck it. “Maybe… How about I tell you over dinner?” My stomach gurgles in agreement at my words.

“Deal.” Luka sits up, pulling me with him. He manhandles my body with ease, settling me against the headboard once again before snagging the lukewarm grub and laying it out before us.

“Ta-da!” Luka throws up jazz hands, wiggling his fingers over the spread of food resting between us. I grin, and my mouth waters when I see cheeseburgers and fries, and a quick look at the greasy bags confirms my suspicions that they’re from the same restaurant we ate at a few days ago.

“Bon appetit.”

A French fryflies through the air, hitting its target, pelting Luka right on the forehead. It drops into his lap, leaving a bright red glop of ketchup almost directly between his eyes.

“Did you seriously throw a fry at me?” Luka sputters, his navy eyes squinting as he mock-scowls at me.

“Who? Me?” I ask, pointing at myself. That’s one thing I know how to do well. Deny, deny, deny. He has no proof. Okay, so he has no physical proof it was me, and his testament that he saw me do it wouldn’t hold up in a court of law. So technically, I’m off scot-free. “Oh, babe. You’ve got a little something…” I motion to my forehead, biting my lip to stop from laughing.

“You little shit!” With a wave of his hand, the trash between us disappears into thin air, and Luka lunges across the distance, grabbing me before I can get away.

Once again, I find myself pinned beneath him, the mattress cradling my body as he settles above me. Both of my wrists are gripped tightly in his large palms, holding them above my head,and my mind spins with all the dirty and delicious things this could turn into, but oh, how wrong my mind is.

Luka leans forward, his lips puckered like he’s going to kiss me, and my eyes shut on their own accord, waiting for the press of his mouth against mine. My body trembles in anticipation the longer he makes me wait, and right as I’m about to open them to figure out why he hasn’t made a move, something wet presses against my forehead.

“What the… Did you just spit on me?” My eyes shoot open, finding Luka with his forehead pressed against mine, smearing the damn ketchup on my face. “You mother—” He silences my curse by planting his lips on mine, effectively shutting me up.

I struggle to get my hands free even if I’m kissing him back with the same fervor he’s bestowing on me. I want to feel his skin beneath my fingers, to be able to pull him in closer.

He must finally realize that I’m not trying to push him off, so he releases my hands, and they fly straight to his short black hair, scraping my nails across his scalp. He groans into my mouth, grinding his impressive length into my core.

Fuck. Ketchup be damned. I need this man. Now.

My fingers grip the hem of his shirt, gathering it into my fists and slowly working it up his torso. Luka shudders above me and then takes over, ripping his shirt over his head before crashing his lips back to mine and sucking my tongue into his mouth.

Luka slips his hand under my back, holding me impossibly closer to him, not wanting a single inch of space between us. Not that I’ll complain. If I could climb into his skin to be just that much closer to him, I would in a heartbeat.

He breaks off with a sharp gasp, trailing open-mouthed kisses across my cheek, under my ear, and down my throat. He pulls my T-shirt aside, revealing the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and he bites down, making my pussy beg for his touch.

I moan loudly, wrap my legs around his waist, and grind up into him, needing friction. Gods, I never thought a little pain could feel so damn good.

With a swipe of his tongue, he soothes away the pain of his teeth, leaving behind a delicious ache. Little nibbles follow until he finds my mouth again, kissing me as if the end of the world is knocking on our doorstep.

I turn my head, breathing heavily and effectively breaking the kiss, but it doesn’t faze him as he goes back to sucking on my neck. “Luka,” I whimper. “I need you.”

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