BILLIONAIRE'S UNINTENDED BRIDE

Chapter 45: Luke Returning

Chapter 45: Luke Returning

The soft hum of our private elevator filled the penthouse, each vibration sending a thrill through my veins. As the metallic doors parted, like the opening scene of a long-awaited romantic play, there he stood—Luke. He was the epitome of suave in his sharply tailored suit, his eyes shimmering with that twilight sparkle I'd come to adore.

Compelled by a force stronger than gravity, an emotional torrent that defied naming, I raced across the polished floor and leaped into his arms. His muscles, a perfect blend of strength and tenderness, flexed under his suit as my legs wrapped around his waist. Our lips met in a desperate, fiery collision, a kiss that was more a declaration than a mere gesture, an unspoken vow communicated through fervent touches and the mingling of breaths.

Breaking away, Luke gazed into my eyes, his hand cradling my face. With his irresistible half-smile, he teased, "Looks like someone missed me."

"Four days felt like an eternity," I replied, my voice heavy with unmasked longing.

With a husky chuckle, he confessed, "Rearranging my schedule to come back early felt like moving mountains. But for you, it's worth every Herculean effort." His laughter was a melody that filled the room.

His eyes, deep pools of unspoken promises, met mine. "Shower?" he suggested, a playful glint in his gaze.

A grin spread across my face. "With us, it's never just a shower, is it?"

"Then how about this," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "you're the dessert I'm craving after dinner."

_____

As I busied myself with dinner preparations, I was acutely aware of Luke's presence, an electric current that filled the room. He emerged from the shower, bringing with him a fresh, invigorating scent that mingled with the aromas of the simmering sauce.

He leaned casually against the doorway, his eyes fixed on me. "You could make a simple stir look like a high-fashion performance," he commented, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Maybe you'd like to try your hand at stirring?" I suggested, offering him the wooden spoon.

He accepted it with a gleam in his eye. "Beyond scrambled eggs, my culinary skills are limited, but I'm eager to learn from the best."

"That's the spirit," I encouraged, my tone laced with a hint of flirtation. "This kitchen could definitely benefit from your... expertise."

Our fingers brushed as he took the spoon, sending a spark of desire through me. "I've got expertise in more intimate spaces too," he whispered, his voice a seductive promise.

"Such as the boardroom or the golf course?" I teased.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "More like the bedroom, with games that would rival the Olympics in passion and endurance."

While I focused on the lasagna, Luke delved into crafting his "salad masterpiece."

Picking up a lettuce head, he examined it theatrically. "Salad, the ultimate culinary challenge."

I handed him a knife, laughing. "Remember, it's all about the presentation."

He feigned deep contemplation. "Should I go for a classical arrangement or something more avant-garde?"

"Just don't get too carried away. We don't want to startle the guests with your artistic vision."

"Ah, can't have them fleeing in fear of my salad skills," he replied, chuckling.