Page 105 of How Good It Was (Excess All Areas 3)

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Luke lazily slid his arms further around Willow’s waist, pulling her tighter to his chest. He loved the feel of her, the softness of her skin, the musky warmth of her. When he woke like this, wrapped around her, he felt grounded.

Less panicked.

Thanks to the session he’d had with Neil three days earlier, he’d begun to realise that the tight ball that existed in his chest most of the time was anxiety.

When Neil had suggested he consider medication to bring it down, they’d debated the merits in his case. While he had no doubt they worked and were great for so many people, Luke had refused. Drugs were his nemesis. Substituting coke with something prescribed felt like switching one numbing agent for something else he’d need to quit later. And he needed to feel and face his demons to conquer them. He’d spent most of his life trying to bury them. Plus, the conversations were helping. This was the worst he’d ever be.

The trip to Brighton had helped. So had the conversation with Willow when they’d returned home.

Suddenly, he’d become aware of everything. Dust motes in a ray of sunshine. The scent of water. How cool the air became when he opened the fridge door. The texture of his sheet against his skin. And he didn’t want that to end.

Because, for once in his life, he felt an ease and comfort in his own skin that surpassed anything artificial stimulants could provide.

“Happy album release day,” Willow mumbled from beneath his arm and the covers bundled up over her.

How had he momentarily forgot, so caught up in simply being, that the day they had all worked for was finally here? His stomach flipped with excitement.

“Thank you,” he said, pressing his nose to the side of her neck before kissing her. “Happy Fourth of July.”

Her body moved against his, a sudden flare of awareness that she was naked, and he had at least an hour before he had to be out the door to the BBC Studios at Salford Quays for their first interview of the day.

“Slide this up over my thigh, flower,” he said, pulling her leg back so she opened for him. Pleasure flowed through him as she did what he said, leaving her open to his exploration. He rubbed his hand over her stomach. There was no hiding her bump now, and watching it grow, watching Willow’s body change, feeling it beneath his fingertips and lips was intoxicating.

He’d Googled it, whether it was normal for a man to be that turned on by his partner’s pregnant body. He’d been surprised to find a split. Those who found the changes a turn off, and those, like him, who felt their attraction to their partners grow. For him, it was the intimacy of it. Something they’d created, something she was doing for the three of them.

It was raw.

And inspiring.

He slid his hand lower, easing to her clit and lips, a slow and steady slide over her. Not paying attention to any one area in particular. When she sighed and lazily rolled her hips so her arse pressed up against his dick, he tensed.

“Stay still,” he grumbled.

“It feels good.” He could hear the happiness in her voice.

“I know, flower. Roll onto your back a little more. I need a little more space to work my magic.”

She did as he said, turning her face to his as she did so. He loved her lips in the morning. So fucking soft, he could nibble on them. “You get me every time,” he muttered as he kissed her, finding it hard to believe the way she responded to him.

Their tongues met, unhurried.

Fucking hot.

He slid his index finger inside her, catching her exhale in his breath.

“Luke,” she sighed.

Rising onto his elbow, he kissed the curve of her breast, savouring the slightly salty taste of her skin. When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, her back arched off the bed. Yeah, he knew that combination was her Kryptonite. Finger deep, and hard draws on her breast. He could feel every flinch and spasm as her body took over.

Leading her to the edge, he loved watching her fall over.

Normally, he’d go lower. Lick and suck on a different set of lips so he could be right in the heat of her when she came. But today, he just wanted to kiss her.

He moved back to her face. Kissing her cheek, the tip of her nose. Her eyelids. Even her forehead before he returned to her smile.

“Kiss me, flower,” he instructed, and she did as he said, her hand lazily slipping around the back of his head to hold him to her.

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