When my fingers went to my zipper, he caught my hands. My gaze followed the small grin teasing his lips. While holding himself arched above me, he pinned my hands above my head, and then pulled my jeans off with his other hand. I kicked out, helping him. When they were gone, he came back and began grinding against me, building the tempo. I growled, wanting more, but he held me captive.

He kept moving so damn slow while I shivered. Using my legs, I pulled him onto me.

I felt him throbbing for me, too.

Fuck it. I didn’t care who had better control.

I was drunk from his touch. His hands released mine, and one combed through my hair before it cupped the side of my face. His lips touched mine, a small graze before they opened over mine, fusing together once more. My tongue brushed against his, and I was feverish from the feel of him. It was intoxicating, and then, he was right there at my opening. I began to beg. A small whimper came from me as he stayed there, teasing me.

I didn’t know the next time I would have him. I wanted him forever.

Then he slid inside me.

He was home. I was home.

While he slid in and out of me, I began writhing underneath him, wanting him to go faster and deeper. I needed more.

“Luke,” I gasped.

He nuzzled my neck before looking up. “What?”

We were both out of breath, our gazes lidded. I shook my head. The words couldn’t form. I couldn’t talk. I’d tell him later. Later…

He kept thrusting in me, claiming me. I was right there.

The edge was close when he placed a hand on my hip and moved even faster and deeper. With his head in the crook of my neck, his breath coated my skin. He plunged inside one last time, and we both went over the edge. He trembled on top of me as I did the same beneath. Smoothing a hand down my arm, he kissed my neck softly, and we both waited for the sensations to slow.

I loved him.

I was going to tell him. I had to, but I knew he would leave me.

“Bri?” He slid out of me, and I almost grabbed onto him, not wanting him to leave. He rested on his elbow, gazing down at me. “What is it?”

I couldn’t. I could still feel him inside me. That was how it was supposed to be. He and I. But he was going to leave. I already knew it.

His voice dipped low. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

My eyes opened. A mask had slid over his face, and he stood from the bed. His jeans were refastened, and he stood there, shirtless and barefooted, staring down at me. His hair was messed up from me; my fingers had raked through it as he thrust inside me. The memory of what we’d just done sent renewed pain and regret through me. They sliced into me like a thousand little knives. I swallowed painfully and gathered what was left of my pride.

He moved farther away from me and leaned against the bedroom wall. His eyebrows furrowed together, and his jaw clenched as he waited. “You’re going to tell me what’s wrong. Now.”

“We’ve talked about that day, when your dad did what he did.” That was my opening statement?

Luke fell silent. He didn’t move.

I looked down at my lap. The words didn’t want to come, but it was time. Elijah was right. I had to tell him and hope he’d come back to me. So I started, “What your dad did was my fault.”

He said one word.

“Explain.”

That was it.

I took a breath and started, “I was coming home from school. I remember being so jealous. Candy and her friends had been talking to you. She was flirting with you, and I thought you were flirting back. In hindsight, you were just talking to her, but it still hurt, so I left without waiting for you or Braden that day. But anyway, he was there when I walked past the street before our block, waiting in his car.” My fingers curled inward, latching onto the others. “I should’ve run or screamed or something, but he told me to get into the car, and I did.” My eyes squeezed shut as I remembered the sound of his deep baritone voice and how commanding he spoke. I obeyed him without question. I felt the chill of the leather seats, and the cold air blowing across my face again. “It was my dad, Luke.”

He stiffened, becoming a statue.

“I need you to do something for me,” had been the first words he’d said to me.

“Earlier in the day, he had driven to your house to see your dad, but he hadn’t been there,” I said.

“Fucking Garrett owes me money. He’s not here. He’s playing cards at Oiley’s right now, so this is what you’re going to do for me.” He pointed at the house. “You’re going to go in there. And don’t tell me you don’t know how to sneak in. I know you do. You and that kid are always sneaking into each other’s rooms, been doing it since you were tiny. So, you’re going to break in and go to Garrett’s office.” He stopped talking and leaned closer. His eyes grew even more determined, and an ugly gleam appeared—one that drenched me in a cold sweat. He said, “In the office closet is a back wall. You can slide it to the side, but you gotta press it in. When you feel it move, slide it to the left. That’s where he keeps all his money.”

“H...h...how much?”

“Huh?” he snapped out.

“How much do you want me to take?”

“All of it. Duh.” He gestured to the house again. “Get going, before your little boyfriend comes home looking for you.”

I couldn’t move. It felt like a hand had been plunged into my chest and took hold of my heart in an ironclad grip.