I tug again.Still nothing.
‘What sort of military-grade glue—’
‘You okay?’Luke’s voice floats through the door, low and concerned.
‘Fine!’I say brightly while internally sobbing.
I take a breath, brace myself andrip.I give a silent scream, then lean against the sink, breathing hard.One boob down.One to go.
I grab the second strip, count to three andrip.RIP nipples.There is no recovering from this.Emotionally or epidermally.This shit doesn’t happen to the princess of Genovia.
Still, there’s no time to dwell.Because on the other side of this door is a naked man with a jawline that could cut steel and a look in his eyes that says he wants me even if he doesn’t know why.
I square my shoulders, toss the tape in the bin and open the door.
Luke turns.
And we … stare.
He’s naked.Fully.No boxer briefs, no towel, only golden skin and muscles and zero awareness of what that image does to someone with unresolved daddy issues and freshly torn nipples.
His eyes land on me – also very naked, still slightly damp, hair a mess, skin flushed.
Neither of us moves.
He swallows once, slow.His voice is low and rough when he finally says, ‘You okay?’
I should be embarrassed.I should cover myself or make a joke or at the very least stop looking at him the way I am.
But I don’t.
Instead, I step forward.
One slow, deliberate movement.
‘Yep,’ I say, my voice surprisingly calm.‘Very, very fine.’
His gaze lingers on my chest and then flicks back up to my face with a quiet smile that does dangerous things to my decision-making abilities.
He doesn’t speak, but steps forward too.His hands skim my bare waist as if committing the shape of me to memory.
‘You sure?’he asks, his voice soft and careful against the electricity humming between us.
I nod.‘Unless you want to spend the rest of the night talking about constellations and your deep emotional repression – yes, I’m sure.Very sure.’
That earns me a grin.Then his mouth is on mine.
Hands sliding up my back, thumbs brushing against my ribs.I lean into him, moaning softly as our bodies press together, skin to skin and completely soaked, still.
His hands drift down to the backs of my thighs, and I jump up, wrapping my legs around his waist.He carries me to the bed and lays me down, hovering over me with a look that makes it hard to breathe.
‘You’re staring,’ I murmur.
‘I’m appreciating.’His eyes dip again, trailing down my body with that same infuriating focus.
‘You planning to write a Google review?’
‘Already drafting the headline: “Woman Tries to Seduce Local Farmer – Fails Miserably at Staying Detached”.’
