Page 62 of Hothead

“I love you,” he repeated through labored breaths, his eyes not wavering from hers as her fingers went to the buttons on her dress.

He watched her swallow hard. But no words left her pouty red lips. Instead, her dress hit the floor, then her bra, and before he knew it, her panties were being pushed to one side as she lowered herself onto him.

“I love you,” he rasped, his eyes squeezing shut, his head arching.

Jesus Christ, she felt perfect. A roar ripped through him as she slowly lifted herself before dropping back down again. Then she did it again. Each time, lifting up a bit further before slamming back down until he could no longer see straight, let alone think straight.

He managed one more “I love you” before everything became hazy.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Bella stared down ather now empty coffee cup. The stench of fried eggs and bacon clogging her throat as she let tears skim her cheeks. She’d done exactly what Luke had accused her of doing last night. She’d run. Snuck out of bed and driven to the nearest roadside diner. She hadn’t even waited until sunlight.

Hearing Luke tell her he loved her, over and over, had done something to her. Toppled down the very last defenses she’d surrounded her heart with. And that was beyond scary. She’d promised herself a long time ago to never let that happen. Marco was the closest she’d ever come to loving a man, but she’d given herself that, that was safe. That love wouldn’t hurt her. Not like Luke’s love would.

So why did you sleep with him?

Her hand went to her face as she began swiping the tears away. That was a good question. She clearly couldn’t trust herself around him. Yet another reason she’d run.

“Another coffee, doll?” the young waitress cast a sympathetic glance her way.

Bella gave her a nod, keeping her gaze on the mug as a steady stream of hot liquid filled her vision.

Even after the waitress left, she continued to stare. Doubt was creeping in. Making her body heavy, her chest tight and her throat restrict.

Just as she was contemplating calling an ambulance, peppery leather filled her lungs. No longer spellbound by the coffee, her eyes shot up. Luke.

Fuck.

She’d not run far enough.

Or maybe you wanted to be found.

“Angel.” His serious stare was killing her. She’d hurt him. Again. “Please stop running.”

She was shaking her head in denial, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to deny it out loud.

---