Page 71 of Click of Fate

Harper passes through on her way to wrangle Lilly to bed, pausing long enough to catch Luke giving Lilly a high-five. She looks at me and raises a single brow, then smirks and keeps walking. I roll my eyes and take another sip of wine, pretending her approval doesn’t settle somewhere deep in my chest.

Later, after Lilly’s in bed and the house is quiet, I find Luke in the kitchen refilling Maple’s water bowl.

“Thanks for staying,” I say.

“Didn’t want to miss the dog genius show.”

His fingers brush mine when he hands me the bowl. I set it down carefully, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my breath catches.

“Want to stay a bit longer?” I ask, eyes fixed on the bowl.

His brow lifts, playful. “Is that an invitation?”

I shrug. “More like a suggestion.”

He steps in close, heat radiating from his chest, voice low. “I like your suggestions.”

My fingers find the hem of his shirt, and I tug gently. “Then follow me.”

We move quietly past the sleeping puppy and down the hall. I don’t look back.

I already know he’s behind me.

I leave the bedroom light off and head for the ensuite, the glow from the hallway barely illuminating the space. Luke follows without a word, his footsteps soft behind me. I flip on the bathroom light and glance over my shoulder, half expecting him to second-guess this.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he leans against the doorframe, eyes steady on mine, then slowly steps inside and closes the door behind him. We’re surrounded by the soft hum of the fan and the faint scent of lavender soap.

“Wasn’t expecting late night sexy time with your sister and niece asleep down the hall.” His smirk is sexy and heat radiates from his eyes as they bore into me.

I reach into the shower and turn the water on full blast, allowing it to warm up.

“Well, you love surprises don’t you?” I ask. Truth is, this feels a little brazen for me, but watching him interact with Lilly and Maple tonight—well, it did something to me. I’m not ready for him to leave, hence the shower; it’ll drown out any noises we make.

I reach for the hem of my shirt, but he gets there first, fingers brushing mine as he lifts it up and over my head. There’s nothing rushed about it—no frantic tugging or clumsy eagerness. It’s reverent. Careful. Like I’m something worth unwrapping.

“You always make this feel bigger than it is,” I whisper, unsure why I say it. Maybe I want to break the tension. Maybe I want him to laugh.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he runs his hand along my waist and murmurs, “Maybe that’s because it is.”

I press my mouth to his before he can say anything else.

The kiss is slow—molten, deep, the kind that makes my knees feel weak in a way that has nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that he looks at me like I’m more than the moment.

His hands explore my sides, fingers dragging along my ribs like he’s memorizing me. I slide mine under his shirt, palms against his back, pulling him closer until there’s not an inch of space left between us.

We undress quietly, piece by piece. Not to seduce—but to connect.

Luke lifts me onto the vanity, the cool edge of the counter grounding me for a moment. His mouth grazes my collarbone, then lower. My breath catches.

I clutch the edge of the counter as my head falls back, every nerve ending lit up.

His name escapes my lips in a soft, whispered plea. And when he looks up at me, his eyes are dark and warm and a little bit in awe.

“Come here,” I murmur.

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