Page 45 of Born into Blood

My face heats up with my confession, but he doesn’t laugh at how crazy my mom is or look appalled by her delusions. He just cups my face and whispers, “How the hell do you not hate me? She’s been teaching you to fear and hate my family since you were little, but you’ve been nothing but sweet to me. How is that even possible?”

I brush a strand of dark hair from his forehead and lean closer to kiss his chest. “I make my own decisions about people, and I knew there was something wrong with my mom. I love her, but I don’t trust what she says. I know she doesn’t see things how they really are sometimes.” Looking up, I meet his green eyes. “And how in the hell could I be anything but sweet to you? You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”

He gives me a big smile and lets out a soft laugh. “There are quite a few people who would disagree with you about that, but I’m glad you think so. I feel the same way you do. I could never be anything but sweet to you, kisa.”

With that weight off my shoulders, I settle back in against him, resting my head against his chest while he continues to stroke my hair. I never want to leave the comfort and security of his strong arms. We rock gently in the hammock, a comfortable silence settling around us, and I must doze off at some point because the next thing I know, Luka is kissing my head and whispering, “Did you fall asleep on me, sweet girl?”

“Oh shit,” I mumble, jerking up, worried that I’ve somehow managed to sleep through the night and that my mom will be freaking out that I haven’t come home yet.

“Relax, kisa, it’s only been an hour.”

My body is almost fully on his, my shirt is undone, bra pulled down, and my skirt is still bunched at my waist. I’ve obviously been pretty much mauling him like a goddamn bear while I slept, and I’m surprised the poor guy could even breathe.

“I’m so sorry.” I try to scramble out of the hammock, but I’m still disoriented from coming out of a deep sleep, and I nearly tip us both over. Luka’s arms wrap around me, pulling me close and cupping the back of my head so if we fall, I’ll be protected.

“Sweetheart, don’t ever apologize for laying your beautiful body on top of mine.”

“Could you even breathe?”

“Easily. I’m not the delicate flower you seem to think I am.”

“I don’t think that. I just think I’m heavy.”

“Well, you’re not, so stop thinking it.” He runs a hand up my thigh and bare ass, filling his hand with my cheek while he gives a deep, masculine groan. “You are feminine perfection, kisa. Absolutely fucking perfect, and if I could have kept you here all night, I would have, but I’m guessing your mom will worry if you don’t get back soon.”

“She will. Thanks for waking me.”

“I’ll always look out for you, Lara. You never have to worry about anything when you’re with me.”

God, those words alone are enough to make my pussy wet again. Luka’s the complete package, and as sexy as he is, it’s the sweet words, the tender touches, and the way that he looks at me as if I’m something special, something worth cherishing, that really get to me. Despite my fucked-up upbringing, I’ve never thought of myself as having daddy issues, but I think I might have a few comfort issues, if that’s a thing. I wasn’t aware of it until a tattooed pair of arms wrapped around me, making me feel safe for the first time in my life. Now, I’m addicted to that feeling, addicted to him, and I can’t get enough.

I reluctantly force myself out of the hammock and straighten my clothes while sneaking peeks at Luka. He’s still hard, and I wonder if he’s been that way this whole time. The desire to get on my knees for him is strong, but I know if I do that, then I’ll end up staying here all night, and we’re already pushing things. I should’ve been done with my shift at Ria’s thirty minutes ago, and my I had to stay late to help clean excuse will only buy me so much time.

I still let out a pained sigh when Luka tucks his thick cock back in his pants and slips his shirt back on, hiding all that beautiful muscle from my hungry gaze. He gives a soft laugh and cups the back of my head, leaning down so he can kiss me. His other hand snakes under my skirt, cupping my pussy from behind in a possessive grip that screams ownership.

“I’m keeping your ripped panties, kisa. I’m going to breathe in your scent and then wrap them around my dick when I jerk off to the memory of how goddamn good your pussy had tasted.”

He nestles one long finger against my slit, barely pressing in.

“God, I can’t wait to feel you around me.”

“Me too,” I whisper, wanting him to slide in, to give me a taste of what it will be like, but he doesn’t. With a groan, he brings his hand to his mouth, sucking his finger clean before pressing his lips to mine in a scorching kiss that leaves my legs wobbly, my pussy throbbing, and my heart racing.

“Time to get you home, kisa.” His voice is rough against my swollen lips. Need vibrates off him, the same as me, and I’d give anything if he could just carry me inside and claim every inch of me right now. Reading me easily, he nips at my bottom lip and whispers, “Soon, sweet girl. I promise.”

I nod and thread my fingers through his when he takes my hand. He stops to pick up my ripped panties, shoving them into his pocket with a wink before leading me back inside. On the way, I pluck one of the roses and bring it to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent. I almost leave the others, but then at the last second, I scoop up the entire vase and clutch it to my chest. It’s the first time anyone’s ever given me flowers, and I want to keep them.

Luka raises a dark brow at me, and I say, “It’s not my fault one of my coworkers had roses delivered from an ex-boyfriend that she hates so she gave them to me.”

“I hate that you have to say that to keep them.” He closes the French doors behind us and grabs his keys from where he’d left them on the counter. Stopping back in front of me, he hooks a finger under my chin, looking like he wants to tell me something. He pauses, running his thumb over my lips before giving a slight shake of his head and settling on, “It won’t be like this for long.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, and he doesn’t give me a chance to ask about it, just takes my hand again and leads me out of the beautiful penthouse that’s now filled with memories of us.

The drive back to my apartment is a depressing one. Each mile is a reminder of the division between us, the separation that has more to do with our families than the actual distance.

“If you don’t live at that apartment, where do you live?”

He picks my hand up from where he’d set it on his thigh and kisses the back of it. “I live with my mom and dad and little brother in the big high-rise building that’s a few blocks from Daily Grind. Do you know that coffeeshop?”

---