Luke’s lips were warm and certain, moving against mine with a focused intensity that made heat unfurl low in my belly. Goosebumps rippled up my arms, and my whole body went weightless for a moment, a swooping sensation that stole my breath.
One hand slid into my hair while the other settled at the small of my back, pulling me closer, and I went willingly, myfingers curling into the front of his jacket to steady myself—not that it helped. The ground felt like it had tilted under my feet.
When his tongue swept along my lower lip, I opened for him without hesitation. The kiss deepened, and I heard myself make a small, involuntary sound that betrayed how much I wanted him.
Luke responded with a groan, pulling me even tighter against him, like he wasn’t ready to let go.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. My hands were still tangled in his jacket.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice rougher than I’d ever heard it.
For one reckless second, I thought about inviting him inside. About seeing what else that intensity could turn into. But?—
No.
Not yet.
This was too new, too fragile, too important to rush. And that kiss had rearranged something fundamental inside me. I needed a minute to catch up.
“I should go inside,” I said reluctantly.
Luke nodded but didn’t step back right away. He just looked at me—his eyes dark and his lips parted slightly—as if he were memorizing the moment. When he finally did retreat a step, I felt the loss of him like a physical thing.
I fumbled in my purse for my keys, hands not entirely cooperating, and somehow, eventually, got the key in the lock.
“Goodnight, Luke.”
“Goodnight, Holly.”
I stepped inside and closed the door, then immediately leaned back against it, my heart racing so hard I could feel it fluttering in my neck.
That kiss.
Oh my god, that kiss.
My lips were tingling. Every nerve in my body felt lit up. Electrified. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my face, in my hair, at my back.
“Oh no,” I whispered to my empty living room.
Because I’d just kissed Luke Byron, and it had been the best kiss of my entire life.
I was absolutely, completely, irrevocably in trouble.
The kind of trouble that could rearrange your whole future. The kind that made you believe, just a little, in the reckless idea that maybe this year could end better than it started.
I pushed off the door and walked into my kitchen, my fingers lingering on my lips, still feeling the echo of that kiss.
Yeah, I was definitely in trouble.
six
. . .
Luke
I wokeup on with a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years—anticipation.
