Had To Be You (Romance/Drama) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 12 - Tomorrow

She knew it was he who entered the bar when she heard the door swing. It was his presence, humming of hot blood and steel resolve that made him indistinguishable. Unmistakable.

She heard the steps, calculated and efficient, as he advanced her. He would not have mistaken her either. Luke never missed a thing.

And the woman herself at the barstools was hard to miss with her flowing mane of dark hair and soft curves. A quiet sensuality against the roughness of the bar.

He felt a stirring in his blood at seeing her so beautifully lonely, and a powerful surging in his heart at the image of her, unprotected in a place where wanderers, criminals, and bikers poured by the load.

He was beside her in a flow of hot air, and Naomi felt the hairs of her body rise in response to his nearness. The nerves of her body jolted solely at the sound of his gravelly voice saying her name.

Stone. Unpolished stone pronounced every syllable of her name so quietly that no one but herself could hear.

"Are you alright?" He asked, blue eyes sweeping over her face in perusal.

"Yes."

"Then let's go home."

His hand reached for hers before enveloping it in the cover of his palm.

There went her control. Every bit of it oozing out of her body with the intoxicating effect of the man before her.

He was worse than the alcohol. And it made her mighty angry.

Yet she hated and loved that he could take her hand, and every part of her body, with his arousing authority and possession; with that sense of belonging that had never detached her from him.

She swung her legs off the stool and stood aground with sluggish feet. Her body swayed, and he caught her by the arm before pulling her to his side.

She did her best to pull away from him, but he was securing her so tightly that she didn't want to leave.

"Let's go home," he repeated, softer this time.

Her eyes stung painfully.

Like a feline she bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, looking at him so heavily that he almost froze. She donned a mask, and a wicked glint took ahold of the beautiful, murky green eyes.

"Home... Mine, or yours, Lucas?"

His jaw clenched. The hand that wasn't holding her curled into a fist that longed to grab her hair; her flesh; her mind.

She was drunk and impulsive and aiming to damage, but he couldn't help but to become as tied to her schemes as she had intended him to become.

Like a child, he wanted her. Like a man, he needed her.

Luke led her outside the bar and fought the urge to slam her against his truck, where he could ravish the tender skin of her neck and feel the steady pulsation of her body.

Hot, breathing, alive. Safe.

Fuck. If he weren't so angry he might just do it. But he was burning inside and he couldn't risk hurting her softness with the brusqueness of his need. He wouldn't dare to.

Instead he stopped her before reaching the passenger's side and held onto the tightness of her hand. The throbbing in his neck was distracting him, but it didn't deter him from distinguishing the feelings that were pounding by his heart.

Among the manageable ones was his anger, because God he was fucking mad at her.

"What in hell were you thinking, coming to a bar by yourself in the middle of the night?"