Page 86 of Relationship Goals

This morning wasn’t a fluke. Nope. This is a man who knows what he’s doing. This is a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Luke,” I moan.

“You want more, Abigail?”

I nod.

“Say it.”

“More,” I manage, my breath hitching in anticipation.

His smile turns devilish, and he doesn’t move, still making slow, tantalizing, and incredibly frustrating circles around the part of me that needs him most.

My eyes widen. “Please?” I breathe. “Please give me more.”

Blue eyes turn triumphant, and then his face disappears between my legs. The first lick of his tongue against my sex nearly undoes me.

The world narrows to this moment, to him and me, to how safe I feel with him right there, despite how vulnerable this has always made me feel before.

“Luke.” It’s a plea and a curse all wrapped up in one syllable.

“Perfect,” he says, and my hands wrap around his dark hair.

I lose track of everything but sensation, and when I shatter under his touch, I wonder if this is what it feels like to trulybe.

Panting, I glance down at him, and when he moves up to roll my nipple between his thumb and forefinger before lowering his mouth to suck on it, my toes curl and the galaxy seems to expand and retract all at once.

“Fuck,” Luke says with a groan, then, “Abigail.”

Without a second thought, I grab his shoulders, pulling him up to me and kissing him.

His blue eyes are still dark with need. “You are so incredible.” He shakes his head, and I grunt at him.

“What was that?” he asks, grinning at me.

“That was me saying, we’re just getting started, cowboy.”

“Cowboy?” he chuckles, but I reach between our bodies, to where he’s still wearing his stupid shorts, and run my hand over his cock. “Why cowboy?”

“If you want,” I say, propping myself up on an elbow and winking at him, “I can call you my pony and take you for a ride, instead.”

“That should not be so hot,” he says in a low voice. “Please don’t call me pony,” he adds.

I pull the elastic band of his shorts down, laughing quietly. “You got it,” I say, pushing his hips gently, until he rolls over with a typical Luke grunt. “It’s my turn.”

I take my time, running my hands over him. Luke Wolfe is hung.

“What do you like?” I ask him. “You’ve spent all this attention on me, and I’ve hardly returned the favor.”

“There is literally nothing you could do that would be bad,” he says, his voice strained. His gaze leaves trails of heat in its wake, and goose bumps rise all across my bared skin.

“What if I bite it?” I tilt my head, pursing my lips to keep from laughing.

“That would be bad,” he says easily. “Why are you nervous?”

Shit. “I’m not nervous.”

“You get silly when you’re nervous,” he counters.

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