Page 44 of Twisted Paths

I swallow, suddenly hyperaware of how close we’re sitting.

His arm is stretched across the back of the sofa, his body turned slightly towards mine, his knee brushing against me every time either of us moves.

I clear my throat, aiming for casual. “I should probably thank you for cooking.”

Luke hums. “You should.”

His voice is deeper now. Lower.

My pulse pounds.

I set my glass down on the coffee table, turning fully towards him, resting my elbow on the back of the sofa. “How do you propose I do that?”

His gaze flickers over my face, dark and unreadable, but I don’t miss the way his fingers flex slightly on the smooth leather of the sofa.

“Figure it out,” he murmurs.

And just like that, I close the space between us, pressing my lips to his.

Luke responds instantly, his hand sliding around my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moves against mine, slow and deliberate.

I shift, pressing against him, threading my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss.

He exhales sharply, his other hand coming up to cup my jaw, his thumb dragging slowly along my cheekbone.

I sigh into him, my whole body melting into the heat of him, into the way he kisses me like he actually means it.

Luke’s hands slide down my back, gripping my waist, pulling me even closer. The slow, steady way he moves—completely in control, completely focused on me—sends a fresh wave of heat through me.

I shift, breaking the kiss just enough to catch my breath, my fingers dragging down his chest, tracing the firm lines beneath his shirt. His breathing is heavier now, his eyes dark as he watches me.

I place a teasing kiss to his jaw, then lower, letting my lips brush against the sensitive spot at the base of his throat. His hands flex on my hips, his whole body tensing slightly beneath my touch.

I move slowly, deliberately, sliding off the sofa and kneeling between his legs.

Luke inhales sharply, his gaze dropping to me, his lips parting slightly. He looks wrecked already, and I’ve barely done anything.

His hand comes up, his fingers brushing lightly through my hair, like he’s both encouraging and steadying himself at the same time.

“Nancy,” he murmurs, his voice rough, edged with something dangerously close to desperation.

I glance up at him, smirking slightly. “Hmm?”

His jaw tightens, his fingers curling into my hair as I reach for the button of his jeans.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Luke Evans look so completely undone.

And I plan on making it worse.

Chapter 12

Luke

Nancykneelsbetweenmylegs, her hands resting firmly on my thighs, fingers tracing slow, absent-minded patterns over the fabric of my jeans. My breath comes a little too fast, my body a little too tense, as she looks up at me, her blue eyes dark and knowing.

She’s taking her time.

Dragging this out.

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