Mr. Badass ✔

19 Aerobic Exercise

Gemma's POV.

Luke's lips taste like alcohol.

I slightly turn my head and glance towards the living room over Luke's shoulder—there are several empty bottles on the table.

He's drunk, on his own birthday.

The liquor is strong, and even the lingering taste of it on Luke's lips makes me feel slightly tipsy.

He pulls me inside, shuts the door, and presses me against the wall, kissing me fiercely.

This kiss is different from usual, like a heavy rain pounding on a window, making my eardrums and heartbeat resonate together.

So by the time I realize it, Luke has already moved me from the wall to the sofa.

I'm lying on it, and Luke is on top of me.

His lips are warm and damp, but his fingertips are icy cold. His hands roam under my clothes, slipping in through the hem.

I can't help but shiver.

Before I know it, my clothes are undone.

Luke's lips leave mine and travel downward from my neck, kissing and sucking hard, leaving small wet marks on every inch of my body.

My nerves are on edge, as though long roots are growing inside me, rising and falling in rhythm with his movements.

The ceiling light is warm in tone, and Luke's hair is messy, gleaming with glow. His breath is hot against my skin.

It's cold outside, but inside, it feels like there's a fire burning.

I remember we're still in a cold war, and I should push him away.

But the scent of alcohol on Luke lingers around me, making my head spin.

"Do you want me?" I ask, managing only this one question.

Luke nods, his hair swaying slightly.

"Why do you want me?" I ask again.

Luke takes off his shirt and looks up at me. In his eyes, I see my reflection. "Because you're Gemma Dawson."

The world falls silent.

Alright, fine.

I reach out and hook my arms around his neck.

I know we still have many issues between us, like how I'm almost transparent in front of him, while he's a black fog to me. Like how, when we argue, it's always me who apologizes first, and he stays on his high pedestal just like when I was chasing him.

But today...

Forget it, I'll think about all that tomorrow.

I respond to his kiss passionately.

When Luke's hard thing enters me, thrusting deep, my mind goes blank, and I gasp sharply.

He stops. "Are you okay?"

I bite down softly on his shoulder. "Don't stop."

And then he doesn't stop anymore.

When it's all over, I'm lying in his arms, too exhausted to even lift a finger.

Luke carries me to the bathroom, gently places me in the bathtub, and silently kneels halfway to wash my body.

A few small lights are on in the bathroom, and now I can see both of us clearly. His chest and shoulders are marked with the scratches I left, and my body is a mess of fluids.