Page 49 of Keeping You
“What?” I'm genuinely curious. I hadn't expected him to know anything about it.
“How Anne found a home in a place she never expected. With people who didn't even know they needed her.” His thumb brushes my cheek, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “Sometimes the best families are the ones we find along the way. The ones we choose.”
The meaning behind his words sinks into my bones, and I understand what he's really saying.
He's chosen me.
He kisses me then, deep and slow, like he's trying to memorize the taste of me, how my body fits with his. He slides his hands down my back, pulling me tight against him until there's no space left between us.
“I was thinking,” he murmurs against my lips, “that we could read it together. A chapter or two each night.”
The suggestion is so unexpectedly sweet that it catches me off guard. I rear back enough to see his face, searching those steady blue eyes for any hint of teasing. “You want to read Anne of Green Gables with me?”
He gives a half shrug, his mouth quirking in that way that always undoes me. A faint blush creeps up his neck, and I swear my heart melts right there. “Why not? I’ve never read it, and it obviously means a lot to you. I want to know why.”
“Luke Caldwell,” I whisper, shaking my head in wonder, “you are full of surprises.”
“Is that a yes?” His grin tilts boyish, but there’s something earnest underneath it that steals my breath.
“Yes,” I laugh softly, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “But fair warning, I might cry at certain parts.”
“I think I can handle it.” His arms band around me, holding me tight to his solid body. His voice dips lower, brushing over my skin like velvet. “Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to hold you while you read.”
My pulse pounds. I roll my eyes like I’m unaffected, but my voice is husky. “You don’t need an excuse for that, you know.”
“Good to know,” he says, and then his mouth finds that sensitive spot below my ear. A soft sigh escapes before I can stop it, and his lips curve against my skin. He glances at the clock onthe wall. “What time do we need to head over to your sister's tomorrow for the pre-festival dinner?”
The Founder's Day Festival is one of Cupid's Creek's most significant annual events. And since Sam “Cupid” Cooper is my ancestor, Nikki and I, and our parents and grandparents before us, are expected to participate. Honestly, it can be fun. We used to love it as kids, thinking the party was just for us. A few of the old-timers enjoy reenacting the cattle days, with some playing the part of rustlers and others pretending to be Sam, saving the town. Travis Kincaid usually offers up a few head of cattle to be part of fun, and of course, there’s storytelling—all of it complete fiction— and an archery contest in the park. This year, with Anna and Harper’s help, Nikki is hosting a dinner the night before for a few of us at the bakery.
“Six,” I answer, then narrow my eyes. “Why? Got plans for tomorrow afternoon?”
His grin turns wicked. “Maybe. They might involve you, me, and very little clothing.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and lower, much lower. “Sheriff Caldwell, are you propositioning me?”
“Absolutely.” His lips brush my ear. “I'm thinking we start in the shower, then we can explore the kitchen counter, and if we still have energy, we can christen that new armchair in your reading nook. It looks pretty comfortable.”
I tilt my head instinctively, giving him better access as his lips trail down to the curve of my neck, leaving little sizzling sparks in their wake. My fingers clutch at his shirt, sliding beneath the fabric, hungry for the warmth of his skin. Images flash through my mind of all the places we've already made love in this house and the few we haven't yet. “You've given this some thought.”
“I've givenyoua lot of thought,” he admits, his voice dropping to that low gruffness that never fails to make my knees weak. “Pretty much constantly since I came back to town.”
I press closer, feeling the hard length of him against my stomach. “Show me,” I whisper.
In one fluid motion, Luke scoops me up, his strong hands gripping my ass, and I gasp, laughter spilling out as my legs wrap tightly around his waist. He sets me on the kitchen island, nudges my knees apart, and steps between them, pressing close until his hard length grinds against my core. I’m pretty certain the thin fabric of my dress won’t withstand the friction.
His mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s full of promise, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that has my body aching for more. Everything else—my tea, his coffee, the book, hell, the rest of the world—falls away as I lose myself in the sensation of his lips, his hands, and his body pressing along mine.
“God, Callie,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice a low, sexy rumble. “You feel so fucking good.”
I inch forward, grinding against him, my breath hitching as his length hits just the right spot. “Oh, yes, right there,” I manage to say before I bite my lip.
He smiles against my mouth, his hands sliding up to tangle in my hair. He pulls gently, tilting my head back so he can trail kisses down my neck, his stubble scratching against my sensitive skin. I gasp as he sucks gently on one spot where my pulse is racing, his hands sliding back down to grip my ass again.
“Bed,” I manage to say, my voice barely recognizable. “Now.”
He chuckles, low and sexy, and carries me to the bedroom, his mouth never leaving my skin. One minute I’m in his arms, the next I’m airborne as he tosses me onto the bed, where I bounce lightly, laughter spilling out of me as he strips off his shirt, revealing the muscles I've been dying to touch.
Sitting up, I yank my dress over my head and toss it aside. My bra quickly follows. When I reach for him, he comes to me, sliding his hands up my thighs to grip the edges of my practical underwear and jerk them down my legs to join the rest of my clothing somewhere on the floor.
