“Let him.” Luke steals a piece of my pastry, and I swat his hand. “He earned it. Pretty sure he sabotaged that elevator.”
“Oh, definitely. Sophie and I figured that out last night.”
He takes a sip of his black coffee. “Dangerous, but smart.”
“Are you mad about it?”
He considers this. “If Danny hadn’t trapped us in that elevator, I probably would have kept avoiding you. So no, I’m not mad.” His eyes meet mine. “Even if his methods are…questionable.”
I smile, warmth spreading through my chest. “So, what happens now?”
“What do you mean?”
I gesture between us. “This. Us. You live across the hall. We’re going to see each other constantly. Do we tell people? Do we take it slow? Do we—”
“Molly.” He sets down his coffee and pulls my barstool close to his, his hands on my hips. “I don’t know what the rules are supposed to be here. It’s been two years since I’ve done this, and even then, I wasn’t great at it.” He pauses, his jaw working like he’s trying to find the right words. “But I know I don’t want to hide this. I don’t want to take it slow. And I sure as hell don’t want to pretend last night didn’t change everything.”
My breath catches.
“You’re mine.” The words come out fierce, possessive, and send shivers down my spine. “If you want to be.”
I cup his face, feeling the rough stubble under my palms. “Of course I want you.”
“Good.” He leans down, his lips brushing mine. “Because you’re stuck with me now, Cupcake.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Cupcake?”
He chuckles. “Too much?”
“A little.” But I’m smiling. “Though I guess it’s better thanamateur cupid.”
He groans. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Not a chance.” I kiss him again, tasting coffee and cinnamon. “Now, didn’t you say something about taking me back to bed?”
His gaze darkens. He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts me onto the counter, stepping between my legs. “Right here works, too.”
I laugh, but it turns into a gasp when his mouth finds my neck. “The kitchen counter? Really?”
His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the robe higher. “Mhm.”
“Lu—” My protest dies as his fingers find exactly where I need them.
“What was that?” he murmurs against my skin.
“Nothing,” I breathe.
His laugh is low and rough, and I lose myself in it, in him, in this perfect morning.
I press a kiss to his jaw and whisper, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Luke.”
He smiles. Really smiles. The kind that reaches his eyes and transforms his whole face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”
Love in an Elevator
Luke
One Year Later…
