She can’t stop herself. Standing on tiptoes, Sal reaches a hand up to slide her palm over Luke’s smooth cheek. The touch of him is like a shot of sunlight in her bloodstream. So warm. So natural.
Under the curve of her hand, Luke’s become a statue. His eyes closed, his chest so still, she wonders if he’s even breathing.
Then his eyes open.
The way he’s looking at her—so desperate, so hungry—God, does she even say this, so mad in love—has her clawing at the edge of sanity. Of something stagnant and tired, warming inside of her, aching for a release.
She can’t stop herself. Standing on tiptoes, Sal reaches a hand up to slide her palm over Luke’s smooth cheek. The touch of him is like a shot of sunlight in her bloodstream. So warm. So natural.
Under the curve of her hand, Luke’s become a statue. His eyes closed, his chest so still, she wonders if he’s even breathing.
Then his eyes open.
The way he’s looking at her—so desperate, so hungry—God, does she even say this, so mad in love—has her clawing at the edge of sanity. Of something stagnant and tired, warming inside of her, aching for a release.
Still on tiptoes, Sal angles her body to Luke’s. She shudders as his lean, muscled hand comes out, branding the small of her back. Steadying her. Cupping him to her.
“Sal.”
Her name on his lips is ragged. A plea in need of reckoning. The want in his eyes staggering.
Kiss me, she thinks. And her heart beats faster.
Sal closes her eyes, tilts her face up, exultant.
Kiss me, Luke.
God help him, Luke’s a man coming undone.
Sal stares up at him, her gaze searing, green eyes searching, her head tilted in a question. A question she looks like she wants Luke to answer.
He can do that. He sure as hell can.
Taking her face in his hand, Luke whisks a thumb across the high arc of her cheekbone. She leans into him, hot as a furnace, long lashes lowering as she closes her eyes.
Luke’s brain combusts. The soft curve of Sal’s hip, her trembling body melting against him, is enough to send him into oblivion. He hasn’t touched her like this in nearly a year. A goddamned lifetime. A torture Luke could barely withstand.
Too long. So damn long he’s been starved for Sal.
Heart thundering, he slides a hand into her hair, long dark strands hitting his skin like silk. Sal lets out a little gasp and inches closer.
Screw going slow. He wants her. She wants him.
After a second of hesitation, he dips his head, his breath blooming against hers. Sal’s soft lips are barely grazing his when—
The front door blows open.
The near-kiss dies a slow death as Lacey bangs in like a hurricane.
Goddamnit.
Luke groans and releases Sal. But she doesn’t quite leave his orbit. She stands in front of him, graciously giving him cover from Lacey.
Because Sal looks so good it hurts. Literally. He winces as his dick throbs viciously, a reminder of what they left unfinished.
Yeah, this is exactly what Luke needs. A full house when he’s trying to reconnect emotionally—not to mention physically—with his wife. Fucking perfect.
Shaking off his annoyance, Luke turns to fix his sister-in-law with a frown. Lacey stands in the foyer, shopping bags hanging off her arms.
When he glances down at Sal, she’s frowning too.
Luke can’t help but grin.
It’s Sal’s scowl. Her trademark look whenever Luke and Seth went off the rails.
Oblivious to what she’s interrupted, Lacey holds up a hand, seeing the irritation in Luke’s eyes. “I didn’t kidnap her, Luke,” Lacey grouses. She tries to kick the front door shut but fails, pivoting around like a wobbly Gumby. “I have her home before midnight.”