Page 55 of Don't Make Me Beg
I freeze, heat rushing to my face as I start to pull away, but his grip on my thigh tightens, holding me in place.
“Don’t…” he starts, his voice low and breathless.
But he’s cut off by a sharp crack of thunder. I flinch, nearly jumping off the seat. A second later, the sky splits open, and the rain hits like a bucket of ice water, snapping us back to reality.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe you just made me do that,” I gasp as Luka helps me climb off the back of his bike. We look like we just went swimming in the lake with our clothes on and even though I was convinced we were going to die, I can’t deny it was the perfect distraction… from everything. It’s almost as if the rainstorm washed everything away giving us a clean slate.
“How else did you want to get home?” he asks, deadpan.
“You didn’t have to drive like a maniac,” I say, swatting his chest. “I thought I was going to skid off the road and die.”
“Oh, come on, I wasn’t even speeding.” He rubs his stomach, then lifts his drenched t-shirt to examine himself. “Pretty sure I’m going to have permanent claw marks from you trying to hang on for dear life.”
My eyes zero in on the faint half-moon indents carved into the ridges of his abs.
Holy shit. I really did leave a mark.
I should feel bad about that… shouldn’t I?
But my mouth goes dry as I drink him in, my body already humming, picking right back up where it left off…
“Damn, girl. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Luka says, voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reaches to unclip my helmet, and I have to fight the urge to shiver when his fingers graze the side of my neck.
He always insists on helping me, like I’m not perfectly capable of doing it myself. Probably just being chivalrous. Still, it’s pathetic that I’m so reactive to a simple touch.
I focus on a raindrop sliding down his Adam’s apple, trying to distract myself, until he swallows, only making it worse.
“Yeah, me neither…” The words come out in a breathy whisper as I wet my lips. A slow, pulsing heat builds low in my core, my body still humming from the adrenaline rush.
Luka grabs my hand and tugs me behind him. “Come on, let’s get you in some warm clothes before you crack a tooth from all that teeth chattering.”
It’s a nice gesture, but I can’t let myself get caught up in it. It doesn’t mean anything. As much as I’d like to believe I’ve somehow made it past Luka’s walls and back into his circle of trust, there’s something telling me he’s still got his guard up. Half the time he’s mean to me while the other half he’s flirting with me, brushing his stupid fingers over my skin every chance he gets.
He’s got this take charge energy about him that’s so damn commanding and for some reason I can’t seem to resist doing anything he tells me to do. It’s like when he speaks to me, he’s got some kind of remote control that shuts off part of my brain making all the noise go silent.
So as annoyed as I am by all the mixed signals he keeps sending me, I also realize that I’m the dummy that keeps falling for it.
We make our way through the garage and into the mudroom, our sopping wet clothes leaving puddles behind us, as the low growl of thunder vibrates through the walls.
Luka peels off his protective jacket, dropping the heavy soaked material to the ground with a loud thwack. My eyes widen, caught off guard again by the sight of his broad, muscular chest. His dark t-shirt clings to him like a second skin, and my fingers twitch with the sudden urge to touch him.
Holy shit. My eyes linger on the black ink swirling over his forearms, getting lost in the story etched across his skin. Is it one continuous piece or a collection of images woven together over time? I want to ask him about his ink—when he got his first tattoo—if it was in prison… what do they mean?
But I can’t.
Those are personal questions, and I am in no position to expect him to answer them for me. Luka doesn’t owe me any explanations for the choices he’s made or why he’s made them. I don’t deserve to know him any deeper. Not anymore.
He must notice me blatantly checking him out because he crosses his arms over his chest and wets his lips before flashing me a wolfish grin. “Careful, now. You keep looking at me like that. A guy may get the wrong idea.”
His tone is teasing, but the heat in his eyes tells me there’s at least some truth to them.
I feel my cheeks flame with embarrassment, and I roll my eyes, trying not to look like his words affected me. “Oh, get over yourself. I wasn’t checking you out. I was just looking at your tattoos.”
His emerald eyes grow darker as he makes no effort to hide his obvious perusal over my body. “Well, I’m not even going to deny it, I’m definitely looking at your tits right now.”
Of course, L.O.K.I. chooses that moment to turn the AC on. Whose side is he on anyway?
I feel my nipples harden almost painfully as goosebumps erupt over my skin, but for some reason, I don’t look away. Maybe I’m still riding the high from the motorcycle ride, or maybe it’s the look of surprise in Luka’s eyes that has me feeling a little braver than usual, but I find myself wanting to lean in rather than run away.
