The room was filled with nothing but the sound of our heavy breaths, the soft sound of sheets, and his soft whispers to me.
Luke hovered over me, his body warm and solid against mine, his dark eyes locked onto mine like he was searching for something. His fingers traced a path from my cheek down to my jaw, my throat, and back to my lips.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice rough, yet unbearably gentle as his fingers brushed over my ribs, down my sides, memorizing me.
I swallowed hard, my breath hitching. “I…I know.”
He exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against mine.
“F*ck, I want to do this with you, but I don’t want you to be forced. We don’t have to do this, Amari.” His voice was strained, like he was battling every primal urge inside him, forcing himself to hold back.
