Page 78 of Lost Love on 6th Street

I fist his jacket and pull him closer to me. “You deserve everything, Luke.” I tip my head back, inclining my lips toward his. I want him to take what I’m giving without me having to ask. I know he can. “You deserve everything I have to give.”

The spark goes off in the depths of Luke’s growing pupils. He kisses me, finally. And as our tongues twine together, I push his jacket down his arms. The message should be clear by now.

I want him. In every way a person can want someone.

The jacket falls to our feet, and once my hands are available again, I cup his cheeks and bend my body, pouring my weight into him so he feels every part of me.

“Jesus, Eleanor,” he rasps against my lips.

I kiss him again before we can get lost in words. Luke gets the hint, lets his hands stray from my back to my ass. He pulls my hips flush to him and rubs against me.

I moan into his mouth. It feels so good, the throbbing between my legs, even better when Luke’s the cause.

One hand tangled in my curls, Luke pulls back. “There’s not even a bed.”

“So?”

His eyebrows lift. “Okay, I—”

“I mean, do you need one?” I ask.

“No, you just didn’t strike me as the type to be—”

“Luke, haven’t you learned by now that I’m full of surprises?”

Luke laughs. “Trust me, Eleanor, not a day goes by where you don’t—”

I shut him up with my lips, throwing myself onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck. If I could speak, I’d say, “Take me, take me, take me,” but I’ll have to let my body do the talking.

Luke’s hands rush up the fabric of my skirt until he’s able to tuck them around my ass cheeks. He groans, squeezes, fondles, and then his fingers are looping around my panties. Playing with them. Not rushing.

I respond in kind, grabbing his belt buckle, undoing it the best I can with my eyes closed, tangled in kiss after kiss after kiss. Once the belt is off, I grab a handful of him through his pants.

He grunts. “Fuck, Eleanor.”

I rub, looking up at him with my lowered eyelids. Ever since I met him, he has been composed and coiffed Luke Wyatt. The most clean-cut cowboy in Texas. I want to see him lose control. All because of me.

“You’re teasing me.”

“No, if I was teasing you, I’d do this . . .”

I spin out of his grip and grab the skirt of my dress, inching it up my thighs.

Luke watches, smiling mouth ajar, his hand dropping to his crotch where his cock presses angrily through the front of his pants.

I finally raise the skirt up enough so he can see my underwear.

His eyes roll back, and he shakes his head. “Fuck it, I’m not patient enough for this.”

Luke drops to his knees in front of me and before I can react, he pulls my panties aside and buries his face between my legs.

“Luke!” I choke out, placing my hand on his shoulder for balance.

His stubble scrapes the inside of my thighs, and his tongue, god his tongue, laps at my slit, circling my clit. “God, you’re so wet,” he says against me before going in for another lick.

“I’m . . . oh god.” Every part of me wants to liquify.

Luke grabs my dress and tugs. “Off. Take it off.”

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