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Last Chance Luna: The Bond Wouldn't Heal Her novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: The Parlor

He carried me in over the threshold of his house, and I let him.

The parlor was big and warm, with a stone fireplace and pine-paneled walls.

A bed stood where the couch used to be, with a patchwork quilt, and a fire crackled in the grate.

Roe set me on my feet at the foot of the bed, and kept both hands on my waist until I stopped swaying.

"Bath first?" he said.

"Later."

I looked up at him.

The firelight lit the side of his face and his shaggy hair.

He looked at me like something he had waited thirty-one years to find in his own house.

"Undress me," I said. "Slowly."

He did.

He took my cardigan off my shoulders and laid it on a chair, and drew the flannel over my head.

He knelt to unlace my boots.

I felt the heat of the fire on my back and the heat of his hands on my ankles.

His thumbs rubbed the arches of my feet.

I shivered.

"Cold?"

"No."

He eased my jeans down and kissed the front of each thigh, right where the muscle is worst, one and then the other.

I buried my fingers in his hair.

"That's the part nobody ever wants to touch," I said, and my voice cracked.

"It's the part I like best."

"Liar."

"It's yours," he said. "That's why."

My eyes stung.

I pulled him up by the hair and kissed him fiercely.

He groaned into my mouth and put my hands on his belt.

I took his clothes off him fast.

When he stood naked in front of the fire, broad and freckled and hard, I took one long breath and looked my fill.

"Get on the bed," I said. "On your back."

He lay back on the quilt with his cock rising thick against his stomach.

I climbed over him.

I put my knees on either side of his hips and took his length in my hand.

I rubbed the head against me, slowly, getting him wet.

His hands fisted in the quilt.

"Elke."

"Don't move. Hands on my hips, but only to hold me. I set the pace."

He put them there.

I sank onto him in one long slide, and a groan tore out of both of us.

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