Page 64 of Luke, The Profiler

He looked at me for a long moment before nodding once. “I know what’ll help you sleep,” he said simply, before moving between my knees and capturing my mouth with his.

Like magic, the crazy, scary world and all its chaotic noise went silent. The bottled-up panic that had been my constant companion for hours suddenly stilled. With a touch, Luke brought me a peace I thought I’d never know again after my father’s attack.

But here it was.

Because here he was.

Right between my knees.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, you know that?” He spoke the words into my mouth and along my skin as he nuzzled kisses from my lips to the line of my jaw. “There’s only one absolute that rules my life now—do whatever it takes to make you safe and happy.”

Oh, this sweet man. “There you go again, wanting me to smile more,” I teased, smiling into his eyes even as I began to work the buttons of his shirt loose. “It’s a damn good thing I love smiling for you.”

“Yeah?” He looked at me as though I’d somehow managed to transform into a goddess before his eyes before he surprised a squeal out of me by plucking me up off the ottoman. “Tell me, love,” he murmured, rounding to the side of the bed. “Why do you like smiling for me?”

“Because you’re the one who makes me happy.” The words flowed out of me without hesitation, and I couldn’t help but wonder where all my vaunted defenses had gone. It was like once I shared my greatest secret with him they’d all vanished. But that was okay. Every instinct I had told me that I was safe with him, my very own monster. “Being with you makes me happy. Looking at you makes me happy. Even thinking about you makes me happy. I’m going through the hardest, most stressful time in my life since I was a child, and I should be an absolute wreck. But I’m not. I’m with you. I’m in your arms where I feel like I belong and I’m… I’m happy.”

“Good.” He lowered me onto the turned-down bed, with its crimson red satin sheets and sumptuous red and gold brocade comforter, then loomed over me as I laid back against the mattress. “It took you a while but you’re finally getting it, genius.I’m your protector. Your safe harbor. I’m your peace and your wildness, your other half and the answer to every question you’ve ever asked. No matter where you go in this world, as long as you’re with me, you’re home.”

“Yes.” It was all I had time to say as he lowered his mouth to mine once again, before his hands skimmed over to where the borrowed robe’s belt was tied.

“What are you wearing under this, love?”

“Not much.”

“Good answer.” He slid lower as he unveiled my body, and my skin burned as his devouring gaze slid over the lacy lavender cami and matching shorts. “Let me guess. Bebe gave you this to sleep in, maybe told you she just had it lying around, even though they’re not her size.”

“Wow, verbatim. Aren’t you impressive.” He was, really. But what I found most impressive about him at the moment was still covered in layers of clothing.

“You’ll have to forgive my mother. She’s a hopeless romantic.”

“She’s also a terrible liar. She accidentally left some of the tags on, which means the moment you called her and told her we were coming over, she dropped everything, rushed out in the middle of the night to God knows where, and was thoughtful enough to find me something to sleep in. How amazing is she?”

“Amazing,” he agreed absently, peeling the pink kimono completely away and throwing it in the general direction of the ottoman. “But if it’s cool with you, I’m not going to give any more headspace to the fact that my mother set you up in this outfit. Not exactly the turn-on I’m looking for.”

Heh. Good point. “What sort of turn-on are you looking for, my monster?” With my gaze holding his while my heart tried beating me to death in growing excitement, I slid my hand down his partially undone shirt to the closed zipper of his jeans and the bulge it kept from my touch. “Tell me. I want to know what turns you on.”

“A green-eyed woman who loves taking my cock is the hottest turn-on I’ve ever known,” he breathed, his rough voice the sound of pure sex. “You want me, Eden?”

My fluttery little breath passed as a laugh. “Can’t you tell?”

“Let me see.” He moved further down my body, pulling the cobwebby lace shorts down my legs as he went. “Hm, my genius might want me, but I sure as hell know I can make her a whole lot wetter than… this.”

He slid his fingers into my cleft, deliberately brushing against my clit on his way to my threshold. I gasped, my knees eagerly falling open all the wider to grant him full access.

Damn, but this man had talented fingers. Like, concert pianist-level talent, but instead of tickling the ivories he could tickle a woman in a way that made her realize that if she were an instrument, her body was his for the playing.

Just as mine was.

“That’s better,” he murmured, no louder than my quickened breathing as I rolled my hips invitingly against his touch. “But you can do better still. Let me help you.”

And with that, he settled deeper between my knees and lowered his head.

God, yes.

I had no idea if I said it out loud. Heaven knew those words bounced around the sudden echo chamber of my mind, now filled with only the need to focus on what his mouth was doing to me. Suddenly every nerve was plugged into how his fingers separated my intimate flesh for the bold arrival of his tongue, the wet glide of it, the insistent flutter, the lapping caresses—all of it was so delightful it bordered on agony.

I tried—and failed—at regulating my breathing. In the end I gave up to moan through my ever-shallowing gasps. My eyes closed and my hands gripped the comforter as his intimate kisses zeroed in on that all-important little cluster of nerves that his fingers had been stroking, as if preparing me for the main event.

---