He turns to face me, and the look in his eyes is pure hunger. He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my jaw. His thumb brushes across my lower lip, and I can’t help the small sound that escapes me.
“You’re shaking,” he says softly.
“I know.” I want this—I wanthim—so badly.
“Nervous?”
“A little.” I meet his eyes. “It’s been a long time.”
Something flickers in his expression—understanding, maybe. Or possession. “How long?”
“Two years.” Maybe closer to three if I’m being honest. The last time was a disaster. I took a weekend trip to Missoula, where no one knew I was Sheriff Garrett’s daughter, to hook up with a guy I met through an app. It was awkward and forgettable, and I drove home feeling emptier than when I left.
Luke’s hand grips the back of my neck. “Jesus, Harper. You’ve been walking around this town for two years, untouched, and I didn’t know?”
“You know now.”
“Yeah, I do.” He leans in, his mouth hovering just above mine.
I can feel the heat radiating off him. My body is screaming for him to close the distance, to touch me, to take me.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, and when he speaks, his voice is a command that goes straight through me. “Strip for me, sunshine. Slowly. I want to see every inch of what’s mine.”
37
LUKE
Iwalk to the couch and drop onto it, spreading my legs wide and settling back against the cushions like I own the world. Right now, with Harper standing in front of me, eyes wide and breath coming fast, I fucking do. “Go ahead. Show me.”
She hesitates for just a second, and then her hands go to the hem of her shirt. She pulls it up slowly, revealing inch by inch of smooth skin, the curve of her waist, the black of her bra.
Jesus Christ. I force myself to keep from getting up, throwing her over my shoulder, and taking her to my bed.
She drops the shirt on the floor and reaches for her jeans. Her fingers fumble slightly, and I can see the flush spreading across her chest, up her neck.
“Still nervous?” I ask.
“It’s not like I strip for someone every day.” Her usual sarcasm is there, but there’s a vulnerable undertone in her voice that makes my chest tighten.
“You have no reason to be nervous.” I lean forward slightly, my elbows on my knees. “You’re fucking perfect, Harper.”
She looks like she’s not sure if she should believe me. That’s okay—I have the next fifty years, maybe more, to show her I mean it.
She unbuttons her jeans, sliding the zipper down without an ounce of coyness. The sound fills the room—loud in the silence between us. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband and pushes them down over her hips, revealing matching black panties that make my cock throb painfully in my pants. She kicks them aside and stands there in just her bra and panties.
I can’t take my eyes off her. The curve of her hips. The long lines of her legs. The way her chest rises and falls with each breath. “Keep going.”
She puts her hands on her cocked hips. “You’re seriously going to sit there and keep watching?”
“Fuck yeah, I am.” I ease back again, letting my hand drop to my lap, palming myself through my jeans. “I’ve been thinking about you naked for weeks, sunshine. I’m going to enjoy every second.”
Her eyes drop to my hand, and I see the way her pupils dilate, the way her thighs press together. She likes it. She likes knowing what she does to me.
“You like watching me touch myself?” I squeeze myself harder.
“Yes.” She licks her lips.
I groan, easing my hips forward. “Does it make you wet?”