by Nikki Sloane
He said nothing. Luka remained like a statue with the light glinting off the shiny plastic badge clipped to his chest. He didn’t argue or defend himself, and tension wound around us like ruthless vines.
My question was breathy. “Why did you stare at me if you weren’t interested?”
“Did I say I wasn’t interested?” He took another step, growing larger still, reaching a point where I couldn’t see anything else. Just him. “Nobody looked at me the way you did, and I liked it. It’s exactly how you’re looking at me now.”
All the air vanished from the room.
“And how’s that?” I said. It was dizzying when he took the final step and brought us chest to chest, his mouth inches from mine. I stared up at him with wide eyes. Was any of this effect from the tequila, or was it all him? His gaze traced over each inch of my face, and I could feel it etching into my skin.
“Like you want me to do bad things to you.”
Oh my God.
As he’d done, I stood motionless, neither confirming nor denying. I held my breath, waiting for him to make his move. I expected him to kiss me. Or maybe laugh in my face, although Luka didn’t seem like the type to laugh easily. He was deadly serious.
“Do you?” His question was soft and indifferent, even as it carried the weight of an enormous challenge.
Did I want him to do bad things to me? “I don’t know,” I blurted out. “Maybe.”
Luka looked just as I felt—surprised by my admission. What had I just sort of agreed to? A tremble began in the backs of my knees and moved upward when his head tipped down. His mouth lowered until his warm lips sealed over mine.
Everything was madness. My actions, the situation, and most importantly, his kiss. I spun out of control under his mouth, surrendering to it completely, even as the kiss was tame. Luka pressed his lips to mine tentatively, but when I parted my lips to gasp, he took advantage.
His tongue dipped into my mouth and was an electric jolt straight between my legs. Did I taste like tequila as he did to me, or could he also taste my lust? I had two years’ worth, and this kiss broke the dam holding it back. It poured from me, and as I spun, I latched my hands onto his shoulders to keep myself steady.
What the hell was I doing? Making out with a stranger in a private room at a frat party . . . who was I? Luka’s hands grasped my hips and pulled me closer to him, deepening the kiss and pressing me against his solid form. He wasn’t really a stranger, though. I felt like I knew him.
My fingertips tangled in his hair. I hadn’t realized my hands had wandered until Luka’s mouth began to slide away from mine. It drifted across my cheek, down over my jawline, and onto my neck. I shivered from his hot breath beside my ear.
“What are you supposed to be?” His voice was low, verging on hypnotic. “Naughty schoolgirl, or Britney Spears, the early years?”
His mouth was drugging me, working in tandem with the tequila snaking in my system. His teeth skimmed the pulse racing in my neck, just below my ear. Oh, that felt good. My legs threatened to go boneless, and I clung tighter to him.
“Whichever one,” I said between hurried breaths, “you like more.”
I stood powerless beneath his kiss and his hands for a long time, trying to savor it. This wasn’t my exact fantasy come to life, but it was pretty damn close. I’d let Luka do all sorts of bad things as long as he kept kissing me.
The thumping bass from downstairs abruptly cut off, followed by jeers and complaints from the partygoers. Luka’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. Had the party been busted?
Just as quickly as it had cut off, the music began again. Perhaps they’d just had technical difficulties with the audio, but it had been enough of a surprise to pull Luka and me from the moment. The dazed look in his eyes melted away and he returned to his usual state. Serious and guarded.
As I reluctantly slid my hands down his chest and away from him, I tried to regain some sense.
“What about your roommate?” he asked. His hands remained on my waist, trapping me. “Is she going to come looking for you?”
No, not a chance. “It’s doubtful.”
“Maybe I should lock the door just to be safe.”
His words brought a fresh wave of nerves to coil in my belly. Luka didn’t want to be disturbed. What exactly did he think was going to happen?
“I . . .” It was impossible to organize my thoughts. “I don’t even know your last name.”
His hands released me and his posture went rigid, like I’d just asked something extremely personal. “You don’t need to know it.”
I scrunched my face into a scowl. “Then you definitely don’t need to lock the door.”
He took in a deep breath and let it out loudly, signaling frustration. “It’s Markovic.”
Markovic. Why was that name familiar? There was a hard edge to Luka’s expression, watching me intently, as if waiting for me to recognize it.
“Markovic Motors?” I guessed. There was a chain of car dealerships on the south side of the city whose jingle was annoyingly catchy. A universally recognizable melody to all of Chicago, but not terribly nostalgic.
His dark eyes blinked slowly. “Yeah. My father owns it.”
I couldn’t place the emotion on his face. Was he embarrassed about this, and if so, why? Was he one of those people who was uncomfortable with their own wealth? As a girl who’d grown up in a family that struggled to get by, I couldn’t understand it at all.
Now that Luka had taken his hands off of me, I was cold. A large part of me wanted to go back to what we’d been doing moments ago. His mouth had been on fire, and I shivered in the absence of his warmth. I longed for his body to be pressed back against mine, but my head railed against it.
He didn’t ask, so I offered. “I’m Addison Drake.”
“I remember,” he said. “Addison Drake with her perfect handwriting, except for her weird twos.”
“What? My twos aren’t weird.”
“They’re just loops. It took me a while to figure them out. I almost graded your homework wrong.” His gaze drilled into me. “Would that have gotten you to talk to me? I can’t imagine perfect Addison Drake would allow herself to get something less than an A.”
My mouth dropped open. Was he playfully teasing me, or being a jerk? “I’m not perfect.”
Luka softly brushed his knuckles over my cheekbone. When I shuddered from the contact, his eyes flashed with desire. “See, now, I disagree.”
Jesus, where the hell was the air? Goosebumps lifted on the skin of my bare legs as his fingers cupped my chin and tilted my lips to meet his once more.
This time the kiss was dangerous. It flared wildly, consuming everything. I’d kissed boys before. I’d had boyfriends and fooled around, but it’d never been anything like this. Luka’s grip on my chin gave way and his fingers dove into the hair at the nape of my neck, twining in the strands.
“Oh,” I gasped as he yanked hard, tugging my head back. His grip was almost painful, but the shock of it was exciting. My one serious boyfriend had been timid and awkward, so this was unfamiliar.
Confidence rolled off of Luka like he knew with absolute certainty what he was doing. As if he understood just how much grip in my hair I could take. His teeth were less subtle this time on my neck. The sharp stubble dotting his jawline grazed against my skin and, when I instinctively tried to move away, his fist clenched tighter in my hair, holding me in place. Keeping me from escaping.
My breath raged through my parted lips as his other hand was on my hip, yanking me so our lower bodies collided, and I could feel something hard pressing against my stomach, something I was sure wasn’t his fake gun.
“Am I hurting you?” His dark voice rang out between my gasps for breath.
I tried to shake my head, but his hold wouldn’t allow it. I had no choice but to use words, so I said it in a shaky voice. “No.”
“Good.”
His hand glided down my hip, over the fabric of my skirt, all the way pa
st the hem and onto the bare skin of my thigh. I bit down on my lip and closed my eyes as his hand crept inward, sliding toward my center. It inched up, raising my skirt with it. Up, and up . . .
I had to stop this before it went any further. My head was buzzing from the alcohol and his kiss, and I didn’t want to make a decision I’d regret later, even though my body was eager for his hand to continue its journey north of my hemline.
Luka paused when I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, urging him to stop. “Wait,” I whispered. I’d stopped him just a fraction of an inch from my panties, which was closer than any man had gotten in a long time.
His gaze locked on to mine, and then his fingers twitched. They reached up just enough to touch me through the damp cotton covering the most intimate part of myself. I bucked, but remained ensnared as Luka’s captive.
He drew back and seemed pleased with my reaction. “I’m gonna lock the door,” he said. His voice was so deep and quiet, it was almost a growl. “You’ll go sit on the couch.”
3
ONCE AGAIN, HIS STRICT TONE made it impossible to do anything but obey, and yet my anxiety leapt to a whole new level. You can fool around a little bit, the wicked, tequila-enhanced voice in my head whispered. He didn’t tell you to get on the bed.
I went to the couch and sank down until the leather was cold against the backs of my legs. My hands tensed into fists around the hem of my skirt, holding it in place as Luka turned the small dial on the doorknob. I couldn’t hear the click of the lock sliding in place, but I felt it. It snapped through my body like a bolt of electricity.
As he stalked toward me, he swayed. No, wait, was that me? The tequila was working fast. Luka’s expression shuttered, and then he licked his lips. Was it intentional? Was I a meal he was about to devour? I crossed my legs beneath the skirt, feeling twitchy and weirdly achy.
My head ticked back with each step he took so I could keep looking up at him.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked in a light voice.
My hand flew to my face, confirming it was true. I was buzzing hard and had reached the first level of my drunkenness. Phase one, the uncontrollable smiling.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly and tried to look sober.
Luka didn’t seem to buy it as he sat beside me. Right beside me. As his weight came down on the couch, I fell into him, one hand bracing myself on his thigh. Beneath the fabric of his pants, the muscle was hard, and I stroked the length. Wait, what was I doing? Petting him? I ripped my hand back, embarrassed.
He leaned in so his lips were by my ear, and he gave one of my ponytails a small tug. “Are you getting shy on me?”
My cheeks burned hot. I was, but didn’t want to admit it. Every breath I took was a struggle to sound normal and not rushed. I’d been metering it out, hoping he couldn’t hear how nervous or excited he made me.
“No,” I answered. “I’m fine.” I commanded myself to touch him casually, and rested my hand on his thigh once again. “I haven’t been thinking about this for the last two years or any—”
I snapped my mouth shut, horrified. Shit! I was never drinking tequila again. How in the world had I said that out loud?
“Have you?” he asked. His breath ruffled the wisps of hair over my ears, drawing more shivers. His hand found my knee and gently urged me to uncross my legs. “You’ve thought about touching me?” His fingertips skated along the inside of my thigh, and I watched in disbelief as my legs fell open. Encouraging him.
I was reeling and he took advantage. This time I didn’t stop him when his fingers went all the way up my skirt. They settled right at the junction of my legs, and I flushed hot. Could he feel how badly I was turned on? It was so embarrassing, but I couldn’t stop him. All I could do was stare, just as I’d done two years ago in that classroom.
Yet it wasn’t only the environment and situation that were different, it was Luka as well. His face was hauntingly serious, like he’d aged ten years from that final day in December when I’d last seen him.
“What happened to you?” I asked in a whisper. The alcohol had disrupted my ability to filter anymore.
His eyebrow lifted. “What?”
“You look different.”
His fingers stirred and applied pressure, pulling a gasp from me, but he didn’t slow down. “Not as much as you.” The pads of his fingers danced and manipulated, each stroke bringing foreign pleasure. So different than my own touch, and he shifted closer as if making himself comfortable. “I never got to see this perfect body you were hiding under all those clothes.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned, unable to contain it. “I’m not perfect.”
“Tell me you weren’t five minutes early to every class. Say you didn’t care how you looked, or how neat your homework was,” he said. “Even your scratch notes were clean. Go on and lie to me.”
My body reveled in his touch even though my mind was chaos. I endured his teasing, unable to do anything but process. Holy crap, it felt so good. My head tipped up, thudding onto the back of the couch as he touched me. Blood rushed loudly in my ears, drowning out the sound of the music pounding from below us, and my eyes fell closed.
Was I that obvious to him? It was important to me that I looked my best. That I always tried my best.
“You like this?” Luka’s voice seemed to invade my head.
There was no reason to lie, he could feel how terribly excited I was. “Yes.”
Pleasure built in waves, each bringing more heat to the fire. His two fingers rubbed aggressively on my clit and I choked back a moan.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I lifted my head and found his gaze. Luka was turned, leaning into me, his face only a breath away. His forearm disappeared beneath the plaid fabric of my skirt, but the movement of his wicked hand was obvious.
I swallowed a breath as his fingers curled around the crotch of my panties and pulled them to the side. His deep eyes studied me like a hunter watching his trapped prey. His fingers stroked over my slick, heated flesh, which made my heart gallop and my hands clench into a death grip on my skirt.
His finger eased inside.
To the first knuckle, and then he pushed deeper. My mouth dropped open, rounding into a silent, “Oh.” The stretch of his intrusion was pleasurable, but the idea of it was infinitely hotter. The man I had lusted after for what felt like forever, was now between my legs, touching me. Possessing me.
Luka’s thick finger retreated and slowly pressed inside me once more. I whimpered. It was quiet, but he certainly heard it. His gaze hooded, making him look intoxicated. I had the strange feeling he was drunk off of me, and not just the alcohol. At least, I hoped.
“Tell me,” he said, “what you thought about me doing to you.”
It was hard to do that. My brain was sluggish and foggy, swirling from the tequila. I felt reckless and stupid, and unable to think of a reason why I shouldn’t tell him the truth.
“This,” I whispered. “You touching me.”
“Yeah?”
He kept his finger buried inside as he moved over me, kneeling between my legs. He smoothed his other hand down the front of his pants, massaging himself for a moment, but he didn’t keep it there long. It slipped around the back of my neck, cupping at the nape. Something dark and dangerous flickered in his eyes. A second finger worked to join his other inside my body.
The warm hand on my neck yanked, hauling me up to him abruptly. His mouth crashed against mine, and it drove me down further on his fingers. It stung. I wasn’t used to so much, and not so suddenly. My hands flattened on his shoulders to push him back, but then the fingers were moving, just as his tongue was moving in my mouth. It was too hot to stop him, and the sting gave way to pleasure.
“What else?” he asked between immobilizing kisses.
“What else, what?” Everything was spinning when I closed my eyes, so I had no choice but to leave them open. I’d moved onto phase two of drunkenness, the spins.
“What else d
o you want me to do, Addison?” He moved at a leisurely tempo while his gaze was fixated on my mouth.
I couldn’t vocalize. I was far too shy to speak them out loud. Instead, I curled my grip into the meaty parts of his arms, digging my nails in. I couldn’t say anything, but I no longer had shame or anxiety about how I was acting. His touch liberated the wildness I always kept tamped down. I wasn’t worried he knew I fantasized about him, although I was certain regret would come later. Not now, though. All I could do was marvel at how good he made me feel.
Electricity roved over my skin as he increased the pace his fingers slid in and out. My knees trembled and locked around his hips, doing so without any authorization from me. Luka’s palm inched down my neck with each deep thrust he gave. I both wanted and didn’t want him to touch me where he was headed. My body ached for it, but my chest was heaving and he’d be able to feel how hard my heart was pounding.
His soft, damp lips were pressed to mine, swallowing my moan, and then he was lifting my breast. The weight of it filled his hand, and a thumb slid back and forth, teasing the nipple through my shirt and bra.
I could barely breathe. Luka’s hands worked flawlessly, touching me just as I wanted them to, holding me on the cusp of something new and interesting. I’d never been with a confident partner before, and now I was sure I didn’t want to go back.
His fingers captured my nipple between the layers of fabric and pinched. The tension built as he squeezed harder and harder, but his tongue filled my mouth and kept me quiet when he closed in on pain. It was a weird sensation as his pinch grew hot and achy. I . . . liked it. I wanted to know how much more I could take.
Yet it grew past the point of tolerable. I inhaled sharply when it became too much, and both his lips and his pinch were gone, making me sway in his absence. Luka’s expression was deadly serious, as if deep in concentration.
“Oh!” I bucked when the pad of his thumb circled above where his fingers were driving. It was fireworks. Bliss sparked and flared, and made me crazy with need. It had to hurt, how I was digging my fingernails into his flesh, but he said nothing. There was no indication in his expression that I was hurting him.