Jill Shalvis - Luke

That left the hottest, wettest, neediest part of her nudging the most impressive erection she'd ever imagined. With a moan low in her throat, she slid her fingers into his hair and thunked her head back against the door as he slowly rocked against her in a rhythm as old as time.

Leaning in, he kissed her throat, her collarbone, her breast through her tank top. "Lift it," he demanded hoarsely, and groaned when she did just that, watching her fingers intently as she brushed them over her own flesh.

"Like this?" She exposed her pale pink bra, gasping as he continued to slowly thrust his sex against the damp, hot place at the apex of her thighs.

"Oh, yeah, like that." Another aching thrust. "Open your bra, Faith."

Obeying, she unhooked the latch in front and looked into his fiery eyes.

"More," he said, "all of it," and she slowly peeled it open.

There was something incredibly erotic, astonishingly intimate about having his hands holding her thighs open to his, having his hips moving against her in a slow, tight, rocking motion, in a perfect imitation of what she really wanted him to be doing to her, all while she undressed herself to his hungry, hot gaze.

Bending his head, he reverently stroked his cheek against her bared breast, then opened his mouth and captured it, taking a gentle bite that he promptly soothed with a stroke of his tongue before he sucked her into his mouth, hard.

Her world spun out of control, centered on the sensation bombarding her between her legs and what he was doing to her now with his mouth. Then abruptly, he let her go, wrenching a whimper from her.

"Yeah, it's good isn't it…" He slowly blew out a breath over her tight, wet nipple, coaxing the bud into an even tighter peak.

"Oh, please," she whispered, arching against him, helping him by meeting him thrust for thrust. Her toes curled, her fingers fisted tighter in his hair as she arched into him, so close, so desperately close, she saw stars, she heard bells, she-

"Faith? Your skirt is ringing."

She stared at him, dazed, as the truth sank in. Her phone really was ringing and with a look of searing frustration, he slowly let her legs slide down his body so she could stand.

"No." She wanted to stomp her foot, scream in frustration. "Shelby's supposed to be on call."

"It looks like maybe that got changed."

"Do you believe Fate's laughing at us?"

"No, I don't believe in fate, not like that. We make our own destiny, and Faith? We will do this."

"Just not now."

He sighed and put his forehead to hers. "Just not now."

* * *

Luke was fit to be tied as he glared at Carmen, who sat on a cot in one of the patient rooms at Faith's clinic. "You did what to pop your stitches?"

They'd driven over here after talking to Shelby, who had gotten stuck at home with a sick mom and couldn't come in.

Which meant Luke had been forced to take his hands out of Faith's very lovely pink panties and his mouth off her heart-stopping nipples, and be grown up about yet another interruption keeping him from what he knew would be an explosive orgasm with Faith.

He still couldn't walk straight.

Lifting her chin in the air, Carmen sniffed.

"Don't yell at my patient." Faith came back into the room with a tray of equipment. "I'm sure she didn't mean to rip the stitches."

Carmen erupted into a tirade in Spanish, complete with wild hand gestures.

"English!" Luke demanded.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I unwrapped the bandages to scratch, then forgot to wrap it back up. I accidentally reached out to grab a cup that was falling and stretched too far. Okay?"

"Okay," Faith said gently, stepping between them. "But you ripped open the wound. You need to be restitched."

Luke sighed. Faith's mouth still looked full and puffy from all the kissing they'd done. She was all straightened and refastened now, but he couldn't look at her without remembering how she'd looked peeling her bra away from her breasts.

"I want her to do it." She jerked her bleeding thumb at Faith.

"That's fine," Faith said soothingly. "And this time, you'll be more careful. Si?"

Carmen's lips twitched. "You speak Spanish now?"

"Un poca."

"Poco," Carmen corrected and smiled. "I like you."

Luke tossed up his hands and turned in a slow frustrated circle.

"I must have interrupted something good, eh? I'm sorry."

Luke sighed again, loudly.

"Whoa-" Carmen blanched when Faith lifted a suturing needle, "Not again."

"Trust me," Luke said grimly. "You're going to have to drug her."

"Yes, drugs," Carmen agreed.

"It's not going to be that bad," Faith said, but no matter how she coaxed and cajoled, Carmen insisted on meds.

Within five minutes she was high as a kite. "Ooh, I feel good." Carmen eyed Luke. "Bet you wish you didn't have to take me home again." She cackled and laid back, beaming drunkenly at the ceiling. "Just remember, kiddies, abstinence makes the heart grow fonder."

Luke just groaned.

* * *

"I was just kidding about the abstinence thing," Carmen whispered groggily, her head lolling on Luke's head as he carried her from his car to inside his house. "I mean, sometimes I like to bring you down a peg or two, but I really do love you and want you to be happy."

He set her down on one of his spare beds and sighed. "I know."

"And I was just kidding about not liking you," she murmured, snuggling into the covers.

"I know." He tossed a blanket over her. "And you didn't know you'd be allergic to the pain meds I gave you."

"That's right." She opened her sleepy eyes briefly. "It's all your fault. Faith didn't think I needed any drugs."

Luke sighed, shook his head. "Go to sleep, damn it, before I strangle you."

"I'm sorry my sister wasn't here to watch me."

"Yeah. Me, too." He made it to the door before she called him again. "What now?"

"She's really wonderful, you know. I couldn't have wished for anyone better than her for you." She narrowed her eyes and lifted her bandaged hand to point at him. "So don't blow it. Got it?"

"Say good night. Carmen."

"Good night, Carmen." Still grinning, she closed her eyes.

* * *

Alone in her bed, more than a little hot and bothered, Faith let out a careful breath and stared at the shadows on the wall.

She could have gone with Luke and Carmen.

If she had, she'd be in his great, big, warm bed right this very minute.

With Carmen just down the hall.

Not sure about her ability to remain quiet if Luke touched her again-after all, he'd had her sobbing his name with only his mouth on her breast-she figured she'd have to wait for another opportunity. An opportunity without an audience or chance of interruption.

Waiting shouldn't be so hard, but at the clinic tonight, watching them leave, she'd thought it just might kill her.

She could admit now, most of that had been pure lust. It'd taken over her every movement, her thoughts and especially her senses.

She'd already decided there was nothing wrong with that once in a while. Nothing wrong with a good bout of mutually satisfying sex.

So now why did she ache at the thought of it being just sex and nothing more? Why did she suddenly worry about being with a man who didn't love her, and might never love her?

Because she was starting to fall, that's why. She'd really started to fall.

And she was just old-fashioned enough to feel that if she had to fall, then damn it, so did he.

The week flew by. Faith had a meeting one night with her staff-okay, it was pizza night, not a meeting. Another night, she and Shelby caught a movie. She spent one night alone at the library reading for pleasure, something she told herself she didn't get enough of, and one night doing her least favorite chore of food shopping, which, given her new status as borderline diabetic, had become a bigger chore than usual since she had to completely avoid the candy aisle.

Managing her blood sugar level was more time-consuming and far more difficult than she'd have ever imagined. And even with all the time she devoted to it, there were still times she couldn't get it right and had to deal with the annoying bouts of dizziness and tiredness in spite of her best efforts.

The flu would have been far more preferable.

As to why she avoided Luke-and she was avoiding him-bottom line, a morbid sense of impending pain. Not physical, but the kind that was worse. Heartache kind of pain.

On Saturday, Luke showed up at the clinic, and if he'd noticed she'd made herself scarce, he didn't say a word. He worked hard and long beside her and her staff, but didn't attempt to get her into the storage closet, didn't even attempt to seek her out in any way at all.

Had he changed his mind, too? And why was that not okay with her?

Later that night, long after everyone had left, she climbed into her bathtub piled high with steaming water and jasmine-scented bubbles. Probably the sensual scent hadn't been the wisest choice, but she sank deeply and sighed deeply.

Right now there was only one thing that could possibly improve the night-well, two. Chocolate.

And Luke.

But neither was going to happen for her.

When the doorbell rang, her heart jerked. Steeped in bubbles, she went still, but the bell ran again. With water splashing everywhere, and a good amount of bubbles, too, she got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. Dripping her way to the door, she held her towel to her breasts and took a calming breath. Then she flipped on the outside light.