Page 46 of Goal Line (Boston Rebels #4)

Chapter Thirty-Four

EVA

“ I need . . .” I pull back from his kiss. “. . . a moment.”

His chuckle is deep and husky. “A moment?”

“Yeah. I can’t...process everything you just told me while you’re kissing me like this.” He just bared his soul—about being a virgin, about having had feelings for me for a decade—and I haven’t had space to think about what that means for us now that we’re married.

“Like how?”

“Like you own me.” God, but he does. He owns my heart and my body.

His rumble of laughter is low and deep. “I don’t own you, Eva, and I never will. But I will always treat you like you’re the most precious thing in my life, because you are.”

“Jesus, Luke.” I close my eyes and exhale. How is he so...perfect?

“I’m done hiding my feelings. We can take this slow, if that’s what you need.

Take a moment, or take a month— whatever works for you.

I don’t expect that your heart and mind are in the same place as mine, but you obviously don’t just see me as a friend, even though you keep trying to convince yourself that’s the case. ”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing mind. He’s known the depth of his feelings all along, but they’re a revelation to me, and it’s a lot to wrap my head around.

He sighs, resting his forehead against mine like he so often does.

I love it when he’s this close to me, when his sweet and woodsy scent overtakes my senses, when I can feel the heat from his skin wrapping me in warmth, when there’s nothing but the tiniest sliver of air between our bodies.

It’s anticipation mixed with comfort—it’s Luke showing me every day how he’ll take care of me, how he’ll meet all my needs in a supportive but not overbearing way.

How did I not see this for the love that it is? How did I convince myself that this man, who never once talked about another woman to me, didn’t have any feelings beyond friendship? How did I believe the rumors about his sex life when it was so at odds with the person I’ve always known him to be?

I could cry when I think about all the times I talked about other men to him. All the first dates that ended in disaster, all the relationships that ended in heartbreak.

“I’m sorry.” The words are whispered, but I know he hears the urgency in them.

With our foreheads still pressed together, his warm breath rolls over my lips when he asks, “For what?”

“For not seeing how you felt. It all seems very obvious now. ”

“I hid it as best I could, because I thought it wasn’t what you wanted.”

My arms tighten around his waist as I fist the fabric of his shirt between my fingers.

“What I wanted was to have you in my life. And I thought friendship was the only way to keep you there. I was terrified that if I told you how I really felt and you didn’t feel the same way, it would ruin our friendship. ”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I understand that fear completely. But those weren’t wasted years, Evie. Like I said before, we probably wouldn’t have made it back then. This is our time.”

I push up on my tiptoes and trail kisses along his neck and then across the line of his jaw. His hands move up my back slowly until his fingers curl around my shoulders, and right before my lips meet his, he pulls me away from him, just enough that he can look me in the eye.

I’m sure he sees the confusion on my face at him stopping me, because he dips his head toward mine until his lips are at the shell of my ear, his hot breath curling into my hair as he says, “I need you to be sure, or I need us to stop. I can’t go down this path with you and have you change your mind.

Not when I know what you taste like when you come on my tongue.

Not when we’re married and going to have a baby.

” He takes a ragged breath, and I take a moment to absorb what he’s saying.

“We can do this marriage as friends with a deep but platonic love for each other. Or we can go into this as a real marriage, with no boundaries or escape plan. But I absolutely can not go down this road with you, and then backtrack to just being friends. So I need you to be sure.”

I let the fear flow through me for one second—let myself feel the worry and the anxiety about something happening in our relationship that might lead to losing him for good.

And then I accept the risk, knowing that finally being with Luke will be worth it.

Because he’s not going to let anything happen to us, and neither am I.

“Good,” I say, a smile gracing my lips. “Because I think I’m done being your friend.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Luke takes total control of my body.

He wraps his hands around the back of my thighs, his fingers digging into my muscles as he lifts me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Then his mouth crashes into mine as he turns and walks us out of the kitchen, through the living room, and down the hall to his bedroom while nibbling my earlobe and telling me how long he’s wanted this.

When he kicks the door closed behind us before setting me at the foot of his bed, I wonder, yet again, how it’s possible that he hasn’t done this before.

He kisses me slowly, like we have all the time in the world, like we haven’t both been wanting this forever.

My body urges him forward, but he keeps his arms wrapped around me so that mine can’t slide below his shoulders.

Instead, I undo the buttons at the top of his shirt, and he loosens his grip to accommodate my hands as I work my way down his chest. Letting his arms hang by his sides so I can finish unbuttoning his shirt before sliding it off his shoulders, he pulls each arm out of the sleeves and drops his shirt on the floor.

I take a moment to drop my gaze, following the path of his tattoos across his upper arm, onto his shoulder, and continuing down his other shoulder and arm.

Most of these are new within the last few years, and I’ve never been able to get close enough to study them without my interest being obvious, but I’ve always wanted to see the individual elements that make up the larger montage.

I like knowing that I’ll have plenty of time to explore them in the future.

I want to know what each one means to him, why he chose them, and how he decided where to place them.

When he slips his thumbs under the straps of my dress and raises his eyebrows like he’s asking permission to remove it, I nod so vigorously he lets out a small laugh. “Excited much?” he teases, and I love that even in these intimate moments, we still feel like us.

Reaching my hand out, I slide my palm across his zipper and let my fingers curl around his hard length. “Maybe not as excited as you.”

He slips the straps of my dress off my shoulders, then hooks his thumbs into the elastic band of the built-in bra so he can slide it off my body.

As soon as the fabric glides past the curve of my belly, he kneels in front of me and kisses my belly button, letting the dress drop to my feet.

And then he looks up at me as he tugs at the lace straps of my thong and pulls it down my legs.

“Jesus, Evie. I can smell you from here.” His face is inches from my pussy, so I don’t have to wonder what smell he’s talking about. I’m so fucking turned on, I’m probably dripping.

“And how do I smell?”

He places his hands on my hips and gently guides me back so I’m sitting on the bed.

And then spreads my knees and leans in, running this tongue along my exposed seam.

“The same way you taste when my face is between your legs, and the way you feel when you’re coming undone on my fingers. Like. You’re. Mine. ”

The way he growls out each word, low and full of both longing and possession, has a moan rattling around in the back of my throat. I lean back, both my hands planted behind me, so I can tilt my hips up and give him better access.

When he glances up at me, his gaze traveling up the curve of my belly, stopping on my full breasts, before continuing onto my face, his pupils are so large that his light irises all but disappear.

I’ve never understood what people mean when they say his eyes darkened with longing .

..until now. Because there’s nothing but insatiable hunger in his eyes.

And then he’s looping his hands under my legs and cupping my ass so he can tilt my hips at the exact angle he wants before he buries his face in my cunt, licking and sucking with absolutely no mercy.

If his intention is to overwhelm my senses and bring on the strongest, fastest orgasm I’ve ever had, he’s well on his way.

I lean back onto my elbows, unable to sit up under this assault, but he stops and lifts his head enough to say, “Don’t move another inch. I want to watch your tits bounce while you ride my tongue. I want to see your face when you come apart.”

Then he brings his mouth back to me, not letting up for a single second as the waves of pleasure start to build. But just like the other night, my orgasm hangs there, just out of reach. “I need you inside me.”

“And you can have me . . . after your first orgasm.”

“I need something , Luke. Your fingers . . . anything.”

His cheek scrapes against my thigh as he chuckles, and then he’s pushing up on his knees, burying two fingers deep inside me as he presses the heel of his hand against my clit.

He wraps his arm around my lower back, forcing me to sit up, and then his mouth is on one nipple as he brings his hand to my other breast, cupping it before sliding his thumb back and forth over the nipple.

The assault on every part of my body has waves of pleasure rolling through me.

Every glide of his thumb and tongue across my nipples pulls at an invisible string connected to my core and extending to where his fingers stroke inside me and his hand rocks against my clit.

Heat builds in my core and deepens to a burn before spreading so quickly I fear I might explode.

The fire that licks through my veins may feel like it can burn me alive, but I don’t care, because the waves of pleasure that follow are worth the pain.

I cry out as the orgasm starts to spread.

My limbs grow weak as I fall back onto the bed, and Luke groans out, “That’s right, baby, give me every last drop of your cum, and then I’ll let you have mine. ”

My lips part as my eyes widen. Who is this man, and what has he done with my sweet best friend? Though I’m not sure I care, because I can get used to this version quite happily.

“Make me,” I whimper.

And then one hand is on my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers and bringing a tiny edge of pain, while he sinks down and brings his mouth to my clit, sucking hard as he continues the relentless thrust of his fingers deep into my core.

I try to make him work even harder for it before completely giving myself over. But in the end, I have no choice because my eyes roll back and my release rips through me like lightning, tearing wanton sounds out of me that I don’t even recognize.

My back arches off the bed, my fists curl into the bed linens, and my legs shake uncontrollably as unintelligible words tumble out of my mouth.

And in that moment, I know that Luke can take care of me like no one ever has.

But he doesn’t let up, continuing to draw every last bit of pleasure from me until my body goes limp.

As I fall back onto the bed, Luke sits back, and I hear the click of his belt buckle and the scrape of his zipper.

My whole body feels boneless, but I don’t want to miss out on the sight of him taking his pants off.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve been wondering for a week now, it’s whether my husband is as well-endowed as he felt on that air mattress in LA.

I stretch my arm out toward Luke, where he still kneels at the foot of the bed. “Pull me up?”

He takes my hand and gives me a gentle tug as he stands, until I can plant my other hand behind me to hold myself in a sitting position. Goddamn, that orgasm wrung out every last ounce of energy from my body.

But when he drops his pants and I see the enormous bulge in his skin-tight boxer briefs, it sends a new wave of heat through me.

As he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, I can’t take my eyes off him.

The anticipation accelerates my breathing, causing my heart to beat so hard it feels like my whole rib cage is vibrating.

“Stop ogling me, Wife,” he teases.

“No, thanks.” I run my tongue along my top lip as I glance up at him, and there’s no mistaking the desire in his eyes. Then he slides his boxers down his hips and bends to shove them down his legs, making me groan in frustration that he’s blocking my view.

When he stands again, kicking the boxers off to the side and stepping closer to me, my mouth parts with a small gasp. Holy shit.

Luke’s a lot bigger than I am, and maybe at 6’3”, I should have expected his cock to be proportional to his height, especially given what I felt when I rubbed myself up against him a week ago. And yet, I’m not prepared for the sight in front of me.

I glance up at him again, and his lips curve up on one side in what looks like a smirk—but I don’t think that’s what it is. I think the anticipation is killing him.

When my attention returns to the silky length of his hard cock, I reach my hand out to grip the base, smiling to myself at the feel of him.

“Just think how good it’ll look with your spit all over it,” he says huskily, making my thighs clench.

My eyes widen, and my laugh catches in my throat, so it comes out more like a strangled moan, and I wonder again how my best friend has such a dirty mouth.

“I thought you were supposed to be a nice guy, Luke.”

“I’m plenty nice when I want to be. But right now?” He slides himself against my hand, sending waves of longing through my core and aftershocks all the way to my limbs. “Right now, I want to watch you gag.”