His voice was rough—low, rasped, and tinged with something far too eager.
I turned, startled by the sudden shift in tone.
Luke was crouched behind me like some giant, primal beast, tail lashing the air in a way that was…not innocent. His lips curled, fangs flashing, and those blood-red eyes gleamed like twin embers.
I smirked. “Why are you suddenly so excited?”
His entire focus was on me, completely ignoring the curious birds still flitting around his shoulders. It was almost sweet, how they clung to him—drawn to the darkness like a moth to a flame.
“You have some blood on your lovely skin,” he said slowly, voice low and thick. “I can help you—”
“You’d be a dear,” I cut him off, batting my lashes. “Turn around and keep watch?”
We both knew I was teasing. Both knew I wanted his hands on me more than the water—but the truth pressed like a blade in my ribs. Those quiet, stolen moments felt too much like hope.
And hope hurt.
Don’t,I told myself.Don’t start believing he’ll choose you.
“Your pussy was on my face an hour ago,” he said flatly, as if I somehow didn’t remember.
I did. I remembered all. The intensity, the way he devoured me, the way I fell apart on his tongue. Just thinking about it made something deep inside me clench.
“I wish I could taste you,” he murmured.
I blinked, heart stuttering, lips parting—but no words came.
He stood slowly, his movements precise, muscles flexing as he added, “Keeping watch? Of course. That’s what a nice man would do. I can be nice…so fucking soft.”
I barely bit back my laugh as he turned and walked a few feet away, facing the trees. His shoulders were tense, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides like he was restraining himself with every breath.
With my eyes still on his back, I stripped and stepped into the water. A sigh slipped from my lips. It was warm, clean, and deeper than it looked—rising to my hips. I ran my hands throughit, letting the gentle current wash over me. There was something oddly calming in the way it smelled like wildflowers.
“You sound naked…and wet…and like I want to look,” Luke said gruffly, voice low and full of restraint.
I glanced at him. His back was still to me, but I could tell—he was barely holding himself back.
“I want to see you.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
He went utterly still. I wasn’t sure he was breathing.
“What?” he asked, voice sharp.
“All of you.” My voice didn’t shake, though I felt nervous beneath my skin. “What’s under the pants—the only thing you ever wear? Can I see?”
“I’m going to turn around.”
“Not yet.”
His voice rumbled low. “Kara.”
I stayed in the water, waiting—just to see how long he’d resist. And he stood there, with his back turned, still waiting for what seemed like an eternity, when really a couple of minutes had passed.
“What kind of question is that anyway?” Luke muttered when the silence between us grew heavier, despite the birds still singing overhead.
He turned then, and I expected heat in his eyes—desire, hunger—but all I saw was something deeper. Weariness. A kind of love that hurt.
“I don’t deserve what you want to give me—can’t give me,” he said.
