Like they were something real.
He kissed her collarbone. Then lower. His mouth dragging slow and deliberate. He followed the length of her body down the bed until his shoulders were braced between her thighs, his attention narrowing to her alone.
Then he leaned in and kissed her there—slow, distracting, the kind of kiss that shut down questions.
“Luke,” she murmured, more reflex than protest.
He shushed her, not with a word but with a look. Grace’s fingers tangled in the sheets in anticipation.
He took his time. It was like the rest of the world didn’t exist, like there was nothing outside her bedroom walls.
Her back arched.
Luke’s grip tightened, anchoring her as she lost herself in slow, overwhelming waves. Her thoughts scattered, the sharp edge of disappointment dulling under pleasure she knew too well.
By the time he finally rose back up beside her, her limbs felt loose and boneless, her chest still rising too fast.
When Luke kissed her mouth, she tasted herself on his lips.
The hallway floorwas cool beneath her feet as Grace made her way toward the kitchen.
Behind her, Luke’s footsteps followed. Even half-dressed, relaxed from sex, he carried himself with unmistakable authority. He was born to take up space, confident and solid.
He was a Bennett after all. And Crystal Lake cared about things like that.
Grace had learned that young. She had learned early to read the signs: the looks from shop owners, the way conversations quieted when she walked into a room, the careful distance people kept. The Harts were trouble. Always had been, always would be—at least according to the town’s long memory.
The town hadn’t changed. Or if it had, Grace didn’t trust the change to last.
ButLukewasn't like that.
He leaned against the doorway, hair rumpled, body loose. Grace felt a quiet, wicked satisfaction. Whatever he gave to the rest of the world, this version of him was hers.
When Grace handed him the glass of water, their hands brushed.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a long drink.
The word pressed at the back of her throat—Stay.
A single syllable. Easy.
So why was she so frightened to ask?
Hedidhave early shifts.
But would that stop him from staying at someoneelse’shouse? Someone else who wasn’t Grace Hart?
No—that wasn't fair to him. Lukewasn'tlike the rest of them.
Grace watched his throat move as he swallowed. The moment felt tender. Domestic. Dangerous.
She imagined this just… being normal.
Luke at her counter, drinking water.
Luke stealing her toast in the morning.
Luke leaning in to kiss her before heading to work.
