“What made you stop?”
Sal’s aware she’s holding her breath, waiting for Luke to speak.
Luke shakes his head. Tight lines of tension around his mouth.
She rises, moving to his side, to kneel. She touches his arm. “Tell me. Please.”
There’s no judgment in her words. Only concern. Worry for this man who’s been broken again and again. Sal sees it. Hears it.
What he’s been going through. He’s been hurting just as much as she has.
When Luke glances up, his eyes are wet—a sight that wrenches her heart.
“I didn’t want to live without you.” The guitar bobs in his hands as his voice breaks. Wounded. Despairing. “I couldn’t.” Sal slips her hand into his. Her touch gives him the strength to continue and he takes a breath. “After you—I was strugglin’, Sal. I got wasted every damn night you were gone. I did shit I’m not proud of. Cursin’ everyone who tried to help me.
“I was ready to leave everything behind—the road, the band, the music. I was a man you wouldn’t be proud of.” His hand tightens around hers and he looks up. “You are my entire world, Sal. You are my life, and I didn’t want mine if you couldn’t have yours.”
She searches Luke’s face under the flicker of the yellow porch light and sees the same stunning truth. He tried to end it. Just like she did.
“I understand,” Sal says. “I do, Luke. Truly.”
She holds her eyes to his, refusing to let him look away, hoping he understands what she’s trying to tell him.
He curses low, viciously, at hearing Sal’s words. At understanding that they’ve been traveling the same painful road for so long without each other.
“I’m so sorry, Sal. I cursed myself every goddamn day for not savin’ you. For takin’ you on that plane. For leavin’ you there. I didn’t do enough to protect you. I failed you.”
Despair drips into her soul. The thought of Luke blaming himself all this time—she won’t have it. He’s been reassuring her ever since she’s been home. It’s her turn to help him.
“No,” she says firmly. “That wasn’t your fault, Luke. You can’t blame yourself. I don’t blame you.”
“Christ, the grace you give me.” He hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry you were so alone for so long.”
“But I’m not anymore. I’m alive and so are you.”
Her eyes search Luke’s pained face. The lump in her throat dissolves. Her heart a helium balloon. Deep inside of her she’s uncoiling. Letting go. Taking her life into her own hands. Taking what she wants.
“We can’t be afraid anymore. Let’s live, Luke. Let’s live.”
Sal presses herself up, takes Luke’s face in her hands, and crushes her lips onto his. He reacts instantly, kissing her back with a fierce and furious want. He pulls her onto his lap. The guitar hits the porch floor, making a hollow twang that echoes into the darkened night.
“Your guitar—” Sal gasps between kisses.
“Fuck the guitar,” Luke growls.
Sal wraps her legs to straddle his waist.
Not a thing, not even air, between her and Luke.
Grabbing her hips, he pulls her deeper into him. Her dress rides high over her thighs. With a soft whimper, Sal tilts her head back as Luke kisses her neck, her pulse points, the hollow of her throat.
When her head falls forward, she pins her eyes to Luke. He’s panting. His pupils are dilated. Black and haunted and hungry and hangdog and in love. The most gorgeous sight Sal’s ever seen.
The strap of Sal’s dress has slipped down. Luke dips his head to bury his face in the curve of her breast. He shakes as he inhales her scent. Then, his mouth moves to her nipple. He sucks at it, whipping it like cream, through the sheer fabric of her thin dress. The sensation is intense, rapturous, and her body arcs in his arms.
Holy shit. Sal’s on fire. Her body. Her body a ticking time bomb of want.
“Inside,” Sal gasps. She can barely get the words out. “Inside, Luke. Now. Now.”