Page 98 of Lethal Torture

Sudden, savage longing hits me square in the chest.

I don’t want to stay away from him anymore.

I don’t wanthimto stay away frommeanymore.

And I have no idea how to breach the gap between us.

As Luke turns toward the parked limo, his smile fades, the hard set of his jaw sending a shiver down my spine. He strides toward me with the purposeful, intense grace of a lion on the savanna, pulling his sunglasses off as he nears my door. His eyesare as brilliant as I’ve ever seen them, blazing with a vitality so raw it knocks the breath from me. I remain frozen in place as he reaches for my door, then drop my own sunglasses as he opens it.

“Zin.” He nods, his mask firmly in place.

“Luke.” I return his nod with equal coolness and walk past him to the plane’s entry carpet, trying not to breathe in his sharp, fresh ocean scent or notice the way the ends of his hair are still damp. I’d be willing to bet there’s a wet suit still covered in sand somewhere in his baggage. Even the thought of it sends heat through my body, a queer feeling almost like homesickness aching in my bones.

I wish I’d been with him on that beach, his big hands lifting me over the waves, his hard body warm and slick against mine...

My heel catches on a step, and I almost stumble. Luke’s arm wraps around me from behind, righting me before I can fall. “Careful,” he murmurs in my ear. His hand splays across my abdomen, his thumb resting in the small hollow right beneath my breasts, the heat from his palm searing straight through the thin silk of my blouse.

Suddenly I don’t want to move.

I’m not even sure I can.

His thumb rubs slowly over the hollow, and the breath hitches in my throat.

“One step at a time,” he growls softly, virtually lifting me from one to the next. His body is a wall against mine, his cock a hard length against my ass.

He wants me.

The realization hits me in a fierce flood of heat that dulls into an insistent, pulsing need. My lips part, my eyes half closed in the midmorning sun.

I hear Darya’s voice echo in my mind:“Maybe just settle for searingly hot sex for a while...”

Something shifts inside me, some heavy weight I don’t want to carry anymore.

And just like that, I’m lost.

“Move,” he breathes against my skin, and somehow I do, climbing the rest of the stairs on badly shaking legs. I return the steward’s greeting at the top with astonishing calm, given my body’s turmoil. “She hurt her ankle on the stairs,” Luke says as we enter. I keep my sunglasses on until I pass the crew, biting my lip to stop myself from laughing semi-hysterically.

“Sit at the back.” Luke’s low command comes close to my ear. I take small steps down to the rear end of the plane, his hand resting loosely on my waist. “I’ll need to have a look at that foot when we’re in the air,” he says as I take my seat, loudly enough for the rest of the staff to hear. The security team, taking the hint, seat themselves at the front, out of eyesight of the offending foot that’s apparently about to be inspected.

Luke sits opposite me, facing the front of the plane, so thankfully I’m staring at the rear wall—and the door to the bedroom.

I swallow.

His eyes drop to my swelling nipples under my blouse. “Fuck,” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to hide the sudden darkness in his eyes.

“We’re cleared for takeoff, Miss Melikov.” The pilot’s voice comes over the loudspeaker as the plane starts to taxi along the runway. “Three hours flying time to London City Airport, and clear skies all the way.”

The skies outside might be clear, but inside there’s a fucking storm raging.

I stare at the V of sun-burnished skin at the top of Luke’s shirt. He’s ditched his customary tie and left the top buttonsopen. I want to pull the shirt apart and put my hands on the thick wall of his shoulders, taste the salt I know still lingers on his skin.

The plane picks up speed and lifts off, Spain falling away below me in a dazzling patchwork of blue sea, white walls, and red roofs that I barely notice. All I can see is the breadth of Luke’s chest under the white shirt and the hard length of him pressing against his suit trousers. I gasp as the plane judders beneath us, the friction sending a thrill through my entire body. Luke’s face is impassive behind his glasses, his arm resting loosely across the armrest as if he’s entirely relaxed. His iron control is certainly outdoing mine, but I don’t miss the tension in his body, and not even his sunglasses can disguise the way his eyes are roaming over my legs.

This plane can’t get to altitude fast enough.

Compelled by some dark mischief, I inch my thighs slightly apart.

Luke doesn’t move, but his eyes burn up my legs like wildfire. I widen them a little further, just far enough to show him the lace at the top of my stockings and the suspenders holding them up.