The Destiny of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #3)

“I mean my crazy wake-up ritual. I wake up like that every morning.”


He scans my face for something, but he’s not going to find it, whatever it is. “I can handle a cranky Violet. I’ve been doing it for weeks.”

“Yeah, but you get breaks,” I say, confused. I don’t get why he’s being so nice and determined to help me. It doesn’t make sense, not unless he wants something. “This time you wouldn’t. I’d be there twenty-four/seven, while you’re sleeping, eating, taking a shower.”

He stifles a grin as his hand slides up my arm to my shoulder. “If you get too bad, then I’ll leave the house for a while,” he says and I get a whiff of vodka on his breath.

“You’re drunk.” It’s making sense now, why he wants to help me. “I get it now.”

“First off, I’m not drunk. I barely took a swallow and trust me I have a high fucking tolerance for alcohol,” he tells me. “And second, what do you get?”

“Why you’re determined to help me.”

“I’m not determined to help you. I just want you to come live with me… us.” He winces at his own words, but doesn’t look away from me, our eyes bond. “Come live with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say as his gaze flicks to my mouth.

“Why not?” He rubs his lips together as he moves his hand from my shoulder and his thumb grazes my bottom lip.

“Because I’m crazy and intense.” I swallow the lump in my throat as my stomach flutters. “You’ll get sick of me. I promise.”

“So am I.” He’s fixated with my lips, tracing his thumb back and forth across them and it feels weird and wonderful and thrilling. “Jesus…” he breathes, seeming torn, an array of emotions flashing across his face, but in the end there’s only conquest and confusion, a strange combination.

Before I can even take my next breath, he’s leaning in and his lips are brushing mine. My breath is stolen and tossed aside somewhere, my legs instantly turning to rubber. I’ve been kissed plenty of times by people I hate, dislike, felt no connection with at all. This is different… even more so than in his truck… this is… stimulating. Slow and sensual… everything is slow, even my heart rate. I feel a sinking feeling drift through my body down to my toes as I slide my hands up his lean arms and grip into his shoulders to keep from collapsing to the ground. He holds my weight in his arms, again making me feel safe. I open my mouth and let his tongue slide in deeply as I press my chest against his.

“This is so much better sober…” he mumbles and I realize he does remember the kiss in his truck. He lets out a throaty groan, his grasp on my shoulder tightening as his other hand tugs at my waist, crushing me against him. Our chests collide, our body heat mixing. Everything that I’d been feeling when I walked out here is gone and is replaced by this slow burn. It only amplifies when his hand glides up my back and tangles through my hair. I hate my hair played with, but as he tugs on it roughly, it makes me want to cry out in pleasure. The idea that he could do anything to me at the moment feels so God damn invigorating. That he could keep kissing me like he is. Devour me. Have sex with me. Whatever he wants and I don’t know him enough to know what that is. It’s terrifying and thrilling and it’s making me crave more.

I slip my hand up his back and push my palm against him, forcing him closer to me.

“Violet,” he groans, dragging his teeth across his my bottom lip and gently nibbling on it. “I think… I think…” He starts to pull away.

“Don’t stop.” My voice sounds a little more pleading than I planned and starts to jerk me back to reality, but then he lets out this low growl and his lips literally smash into mine, so forcefully I swear to God I’m going to have a bruise.

A wonderful, amazing stillness I’ve never experienced before fills my body as he backs me up against a tree and aligns our bodies together. He kisses me fiercely, pulling on my hair, gripping at my waist to the point that it stings. His hand starts to glide up my body, searing hot even through the fabric of my shirt. When he reaches my bra, he softly grips at my breast, gently caressing it before moving his hand to the top of my collarbone. I gasp as he folds his fingers around the base of my neck, not tight enough to hurt me, but enough that there’s pressure. I’m invigorated. Stunned by how my body responds, not with need, but with satisfaction. Blissful, confounding, serenity. More than when I’m standing on the edge of a building, drowning in water, stepping out in front of cars. I want more. Need more. I clutch him, digging my nails into his skin and it elicits a groan from his lips.

He abruptly moves his mouth away from mine and starts trailing kisses down my jawline, my throat, while pressing his body up against me. I moan at the feel of him and at the adrenaline pulsating through me. Oh God, I can’t believe I’m groaning. I never groan.

“I’ve wanted to do this since we first met,” he breathes against the bottom of my neck and my eyelids flutter shut as I float from reality. I wish I could drift farther. Forget everything. I’m getting close.

“Luke, we gotta go!” a male voice shouts and just like that the moment shatters.

I slam back to the real world, the safe feeling evaporating from my body. But Luke seems to sink farther into our little fantasy, his grip on my neck constricting as his mouth travels toward my breasts.

“Luke,” I pant, glancing around. “I think someone just yelled for you.”

“Just a second.” He breathes heavily against the top of my chest, his head tipped down, his fingertips delving into my waist, his hands trembling. I’m not sure what’s going on but I sense something’s off, like he’s struggling to let me go.

Seth appears across the lawn, heading around the trees toward us, smoking a cigarette. His honey-brown eyes are full of irritation and his highlighted blond hair is sticking up. “Luke,” he calls out. “We gotta go if we’re going to get all your shit out of the dorm today.”

Luke is still breathing against my neck, his fingers pressing deeper into my skin. I begin to wonder if I’m going to have to pry him off—and if I can—but then he releases me and pushes away. There’s a glazed look in his eyes and the cut on his lip looks like it’s about to split open again.

“What?” He blinks and then skims the trees, grass, and dorm building like he’s forgotten where we are.

“What are you doing?” Seth asks as he arrives in front of the tree we’re standing under. “We got to go. Greyson told Douglas we’d be down there in an hour to sign the lease.”

Luke rubs his hand down his face, staring at me for a moment, and then composes himself enough to turn around. “I’m coming, so freaking relax,” he says, sounding annoyed.

Seth rolls his eyes at him and then slants them to the side to look at me. “Are you coming, too?”

I open my mouth to say that I’m not, because it’s obvious he doesn’t want me to come along, but Luke turns and laces our fingers together and the rush of safeness causes my knees to buckle.

I grip his shoulders, hoping he can’t notice how bad I’m trembling.

“Yeah, she’s coming,” he speaks for me, tracing his finger along the inside of my wrist.

Before I can react or protest, he hauls me across the yard with him. Side by side. Together. And it leaves me feeling lost because I don’t feel so alone. For the first time in forever, I’m content right where I am.





Chapter 11



Luke