by Christa Wick
I close my eyes. There is no point keeping them open -- he won't look at me.
"Luke…" I whisper his name, but my pain is audible.
His weight pushes down at me again. His hands roam my body. He strokes a shoulder, nuzzles my neck, kisses just below my ear. Each gesture hurts more than the cane ever could.
This is good-bye. I know it.
I do not consciously move a muscle but every inch of me is moving. I am shaking as I try to hold the tears back. My mind searches for the moment I wrongly convinced myself this was more than a good-bye fuck. I remember the intimacy of his tongue and lips, the domination of his fist inside me. Yes, those two points had fooled me.
"Baby, you're not listening."
He is right. Yet again, my thoughts are drowning out the rich timbre of his voice. I suck a sobbing breath in and hold it until I can shape the words without my emotions jackhammering them into something incomprehensible. "What did you say?"
He rubs his nose against mine. "I love you."
He loves me?
Several long seconds pass while I repeat the phrase inside my head. It is slippery, elusive, and I'm not sure I have it correct.
Luke Masters loves me…
"Don't be rude, love." He admonishes me with a light chuckle but I can hear the tension in his laugh.
I ponder the new information. I am being rude, but how? Right -- he said he loved me. He meant it. I haven't said anything in return. I wrap my arms around his head and kiss him. I kiss him again, more than once -- the words and the kisses colliding against one another.
"I love you," I say, my lips against his cheek, his temple, and finally his mouth. "I love you."
When I am all kissed out, Luke cups my face. His gaze and expression are solemn, hurt even. "You weren't really going to leave me tomorrow, were you?"
Crying, I nod. "You didn't ask me to stay."
His bottom lip bobs, almost a quiver, and then he shakes it off. For a long minute, he says nothing. I realize he is hard again. Reaching down, he grabs my leg and tugs until I am open. His mouth presses against my neck, sucking above the line of a vein, and he slowly pushes into me. When he is fully embedded, he braces his hands against the sides of my face and looks at me.
"Stay with me, love."
He bends his head. Our lips meet, the kiss the sweetest I have ever tasted. When it ends, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him to me with a promise.
"I will."
Now That You're Done
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Pesky Legal Junk
Killer Curves copyright content © 2012 by Christa Wick (from content 2011 writing as Ula James); Captive Curves copyright content © 2012 by Christa Wick; Vegas Curves copyright content © 2013 by Christa Wick
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. All persons and entities are fictional or fictitiously used. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the express written permission from the author/publisher.
Table of Contents
Perilous Curves Collection
Killer Curves
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Captive Curves
Vegas Curves
Now That You're Done
Pesky Legal Junk
