Page 35 of Unbearable Attraction
“Don’t hold back,” she gasped, clutching him. “I want to feel everything. All of you.”
He obeyed with a growl, his thrusts growing deeper, more urgent. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with their gasps and moans. Her pussy clenched around him with each stroke, drawing him in tighter, wetter.
“Look at me,” he said roughly, cupping her face as he moved inside her. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”
Their gazes locked, and it undid her. The emotion in his expression—love, need, fear, reverence—pushed her to the edge. Her body tensed, her breath caught?—
And then she shattered.
Her orgasm ripped through her like lightning through old stone. She cried out, bucking beneath him, her pussy pulsing around his cock in desperate waves. Her hands scrabbled at his back, needing him closer, deeper, more.
“Fuck, Leenah—” Luka cursed and drove in one last time, holding there as his own climax hit. He buried his face in her neck with a groan, his cock throbbing inside her as he spilled into her warmth.
They trembled together, the air between them thick with sweat and breath and something deeper. Something binding.
He collapsed beside her, tugging her against him with an arm that felt like a shield.
Leenah curled into him, heart still thudding. “That was…”
“Everything,” he finished hoarsely, pressing a kiss to her temple.
As she laid there in his arms, more safe and at ease then she had ever felt before, guilt started to well into her chest.
She had just shared more intimacy with Luka than anyone. More about herself and he accepted her, but deep down she knew that it meant, more than ever, that she couldn’t involve him in what she had to do.
It wasn’t because she had to do it alone…
But because she was in love with him and this may be the only way to protect him.
23
LUKA
Luka woke to cold sheets and the absence of warmth where Leenah should have been. His hand swept across the empty space beside him, finding only the lingering scent of her skin and the faint indentation in the pillow where her head had rested. Dawn light filtered through the gauze curtains, painting everything in shades of gold and regret.
She was gone.
His bear stirred immediately, sensing something wrong in the way she'd left without a word, without the soft goodbye kiss he'd been expecting. After what they'd shared, after the way she'd opened herself to him completely, waking up alone felt like a slap.
He sat up, running his hands through his hair as the events of the previous night crashed over him. The way they moved together, the soft gasps and whispered endearments, the moment when she'd completely surrendered her fierce independence and let him see every vulnerable part of her soul.
And then the guilt that had crept into her expression afterward, so subtle he'd almost missed it in the afterglow of their lovemaking.
"Damn it," he muttered, throwing back the covers and reaching for his jeans. His bear was pacing now, agitated and anxious in a way that spoke to more than just disappointment over her absence. Something was wrong. Something beyond morning-after awkwardness or her usual need for space to process complicated emotions.
He dressed quickly, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled on his flannel shirt. The scent of her was everywhere in his room, on his sheets, clinging to his skin. But underneath the sweetness of oranges and bergamot was something else, something that made his shifter senses recoil with warning.
Magic. Old, dangerous magic that carried the metallic taste of blood and sacrifice.
The realization hit him like a freight train. While he'd been sleeping off the most perfect night of his life, she'd been planning to throw it all away.
Luka was out the door and running toward her cottage before conscious thought caught up with instinct. His bear roared beneath his skin, fury and terror warring for dominance as he raced through Hollow Oak's empty streets. The few early risers he passed gave him a wide berth, probably sensing the predator barely contained beneath his human facade.
Her cottage sat peaceful in the morning light, smoke rising from the chimney in a parody of domestic normalcy. But the moment he stepped onto her front porch, he could feel the wrongness that permeated the air around her home. Magic hung thick and volatile, carrying undertones that made his vision blur with protective rage.
The front door was unlocked, swinging open at his touch to reveal a living room that looked like the aftermath of a supernatural hurricane. Books lay scattered across every surface, their pages fluttering in invisible currents of magical energy. Candles had burned down to stubs, wax pooling onfurniture and floor in patterns that hurt to look at directly. The air itself seemed to shimmer with residual power, charged with the kind of energy that preceded either miracles or disasters.
"Leenah!" he called, though he already knew she wasn't there. The cottage felt empty in the way that places did when their occupants had no intention of returning.
