Page 101 of When the Smoke Clears

I reach the button of his jeans, the denim rough against my fingertips, and pause. Glancing up, my eyes trace the line of his torso before meeting his gaze. A smile plays across my lips, slow and deliberate.

“Isla.” Luke’s voice is barely above a whisper, cracking as he emphasizes both syllables—his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.

A shiver runs down my spine, and heat pools between my legs, anticipating his reaction. I flatten my hand around the thick ridge of his erection through the worn jeans.

I curl my fingers into the waistband of his jeans, the metal button popping open with a faint click.

Drawing his zipper down, I tug his jeans and boxer briefs over his thighs. His arousal is evident, hard and ready.

I wrap my fingers around him, relishing the guttural sounds escaping his throat. His hips buck slightly, a sharp hiss passing through his teeth.

“Jesus.”

His hand tangles in my hair, gripping tightly, guiding me as I lower my mouth onto him. I swirl my tongue around his tip, hollowing out my cheeks and creating a tight, wet suction.

“Fuck,” he groans, his length growing harder.

I continue to work his cock, sucking and swirling my tongue while moving my hand along the base. His hips thrust wildly, tangling my hair in his fingers.

His hand changes direction and pulls at my scalp, the slight pain mixing with the pleasure. “Isla, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

His words exaggerate my enthusiasm, desiring nothing more than to make him feel good. He releases into my mouth, his salty warmth hitting the back of my throat. I swallow eagerly, relishing the sound of my name on his lips and his taste on my tongue.

“God, Isla,” he whispers, voice wrecked and raw.

His thumb traces my swollen bottom lip, lingering there as if he can’t believe what just happened. I lean into the touch, kissing the pad of his thumb.

His voice drops to a husky murmur. “I need to taste you. Now.”

His tone isn’t only raw with lust. It’s desperate, like I’m the anchor he needs in a storm neither of us can control.

“I want to eat you until you fall apart on my tongue,” he confesses, his eyes blazing.

The heat of his words sears through me, but beneath it hums something deeper—a deep ache of belonging. But what I see behind the hunger is fear—the fear of losing me again.

I peel my clothes away until there’s nothing between us—no fabric, no secrets, no distance. For a beat, I just stand there. Ten years apart, heartbreak layered over heartbreak, and here we are again. Stripped down, raw, daring each other to believe in second chances.

He reaches for my hand, guiding me gently back to the mattress. Luke parts my legs, pulling me to the edge with a tenderness that makes me ache more than his touch. His hand skims my thigh, rough palm against delicate skin, and I open for him instinctively. But it’s more than instinct. It’s trust.

“Jesus, you’re wet,” he rasps, awe woven into hunger. “Does it turn you on to suck my cock?”

My voice comes out in a rasp. “Yes.”

His finger slides inside, deliberate and slow. I arch, not just from pleasure but from the terrifying relief of letting him back into places I swore I’d closed off forever. His tongue follows, circling, teasing, until the tension in me coils tighter and tighter.

“Oh my God, Luke,” I gasp, nails digging into his scalp.

He’s not only pushing me toward release; he’s undoing years of distance with every stroke, every flick of his tongue. When his growl vibrates against me, it feels like a claim. Mine, always mine.

I shatter in his mouth, the orgasm ripping through me, but what breaks me more is the look in his eyes when I come apart. Satisfaction, but also reverence. As if my pleasure is proof he’s worthy of me. As if this moment is more than sex. It’s our salvation.

After the high of release settles, we lie tangled in the sheets, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. My fingers drift lazily across his chest, tracing slow circles over warm skin. I’m not ready to leave.

“We need to get up,” I murmur, though I don’t sound convinced. “Gabe will be here soon.”

“Who cares,” Luke says with a low chuckle. “He can microwave a frozen dinner tonight.”

I nudge him with my knee. “Don’t you want to tell him about the phone?”