“It’s as I said,” Luka reassured me. “You belong here with us. Those of us who know that know it very well, and will do whatever we can to keep you safe.”
I looked at him, gauging his sincerity. “Promise?”
“I swear.”
I wanted to kiss him. The impulse was so strong I found myself halting my forward momentum before I moved more than an inch. Judging by the look on his face, he spotted it clear as day. He was nothing if not perceptive.
But Luka didn’t say anything about it, just changed the subject.
“Would you mind telling me about your most recent piece?” he asked.
“I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but I feel like bigger is better,” I said. “I may set it on a college campus. Or maybe not. I just know I’m going try and really crank up the steamy scenes in this one.”
“I read the comments on your most recent installment, and I know you’ve been under a tremendous amount of pressure to raise the stakes.”
“I feel like people want to live vicariously through my stories. Even the people who supported me after the trial must think my experience is more wild than it actually is. I’m struggling with a way to keep the readers happy.”
“So you decided to raise the heat level. A wise move,” he said, nodding his head. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe you will have any trouble accommodating your reader’s desires.”
“What do you mean?”
There was a glint in his eyes I couldn’t quite read. He placed his arm on my bare shoulder. All three boys had strong hands, but Luka’s were by far the most refined. Nails perfectly trimmed, skin smooth and warm. With hands like his, he could have anything he wanted.
I was hoping he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
He slid his hand down my arm, to my side, coming to rest on my thigh. The touch was different than a moment ago when he’d been reassuring me. This felt like the start of something more.
My suspicions were confirmed as he began to gather up the material of my dress, slowly and carefully running his fingers back and forth against my inner thigh.
“This isn’t exactly princely behavior, your highness,” I teased.
“Isn’t it?” he purred at me with a wicked tint to his voice.
I exhaled slowly as my gaze started to go unfocused. His stare never once wavered.
“In case you were not aware,” Luka began, working his magic with his fingers, “I spend quite a lot of time with you on my mind.”
“Is that so?” I asked, trying to maintain my composure as I felt the hem of my skirt sliding higher up my thighs.
“Very much so,” he said. “Perhaps some of our rendezvous could help inspire your writing. Help satisfy your readers’ desires.”
He spoke in a low rumble, stringing out the last word in his rich timbre.
“I remember being disappointed we never kissed on our first date,” he said. “Do you remember how that went?”
I’d been outside the French restaurant, standing with Luka by his elegant black sedan. His hands were on my face, and he had tilted me up towards his, leaning down to fasten his lips to mine for the very first time. My anticipation had swelled, my whole body aching for him.
And then there had been a loud noise, interrupting us, thrusting reality in between our near embrace.
“The car horn,” I murmured. “It startled us.”
He continued sliding my skirt up my thighs. I instinctively spread my legs for him, thankful for the privacy of our booth.
“And I often think about the last time we were at a restaurant together, as well,” he said.
“How often?” I asked quietly, though my mind was firmly on the machinations of his fingers between my legs.
“With quite some frequency.” His fingers slid between my legs, resting on my inner thigh.
