Chapter 215: I Haven't Kissed Enough Yet

Tara's POV

I stood in the bedroom of the Carter family mansion, trying to ignore the persistent tightness in my chest every time I looked at Luke.

His dark eyes followed my every movement, radiating a determination that was both irritating and familiar.

"Tara, do you honestly think I could convince Grandma Gloria not to care about you?" Luke's voice broke the tense atmosphere. "That's simply impossible! She cares about you even more than she cares about me and Lucy. You have no idea how anxious she was when she found out you were in prison. She wanted to rush to the jail and rescue you immediately—I'm the one who stopped her!"

The thought of Gloria—strong, dignified Gloria—worrying about me was almost unbearable. My voice trembled slightly, emotion overriding my usual self-control.

"That's exactly why I don't want her to be hurt!" I cried out uncontrollably, desperation filling my voice. "She's already in her eighties! I just want her to live a peaceful, healthy life and reach a hundred!"

I paced around the room, fingers anxiously running through my hair. This was precisely the situation I had been trying to avoid—people I cared about taking risks for me. It had happened too many times before, always with devastating consequences.

Luke maneuvered his wheelchair closer, his expression softening considerably. "Don't you think I want that too? That's why we need to find the bastard who's trying to harm you as quickly as possible, so that not just you, but everyone can be safe!"

I stopped pacing and leaned against the window frame, suddenly feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.

"Finding them isn't that easy!" I admitted, my voice becoming softer. "Luke, I've never been afraid of anything before, but now I am. Finn is still missing, and I don't want anything to happen to you and Gloria, or Lucy. Do you understand?"

The vulnerability in my own voice surprised me. I wasn't accustomed to acknowledging fear—to showing any form of weakness. Yet here I was, essentially admitting that the thought of losing Luke terrified me.

I turned away, unwilling to let him see the raw emotion on my face. My fingers gripped the windowsill until my knuckles turned white, as if I could use that to resist the tide of fear threatening to overwhelm me.

I had spent so much time conditioning myself to expect loss, protecting myself from the devastating pain of attachment, yet here I was, terrified at the prospect of a life without this infuriating man.

"The poison you were given..." I continued, deciding to reveal what I had been hiding from him. "It wasn't as simple as I told you. Although we detoxified it in time, there are serious after-effects. Your allergic reaction last time was just the mildest symptom—there could be other problems later..."

The last words came out stronger than I had intended, carrying all the fear and guilt I had been carrying. Luke, however, seemed focused on something entirely different.

"Tara, tell me honestly," he said, moving his wheelchair even closer until our knees were almost touching. "Was it really you who helped detoxify me last time?"

I stared at him in disbelief. After everything I had just revealed, that was what he chose to focus on?

"I've told you countless times, and you don't believe me," I said, irritation filling my tone. "So I'll tell you one last time—it wasn't me!"

Luke's expression remained skeptical, which only intensified my frustration.

"I'll tell Peter to send that woman over right away," I suggested, trying to end the issue. "If you have any questions, you can ask her yourself, and I'm sure she'll give you a satisfactory answer."

Suddenly, Luke's demeanor changed. He seemed to dismiss the entire conversation with a wave of his hand, his gaze briefly landing on my lips before returning to my eyes with an intensity that made me hold my breath.

"Go take a bath," he said abruptly, his voice dropping to a husky command that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. "You've been in prison for several days; you must be uncomfortable."

Before I could respond, he moved with surprising speed. His wheelchair closed the distance between us in seconds, the slight hum giving me no chance to step back.

His right hand caught the back of my neck in one fluid motion, fingers threading through my hair with just the right amount of pressure—firm enough to be assertive but not painful.

Before I could react, his lips crashed against mine, firm and unyielding, like a storm that swept away my breath. The heat of his mouth struck me like lightning, his breath warm against my skin, teasing my senses. My nostrils filled with his scent, potent and irresistible.

I instinctively raised my hands, palms pressed against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of his body through the soft sweater. I tried to push him away, but it was like trying to move a mountain. His strength was immovable, his intensity engulfing my resistance like a tidal wave.

One arm wrapped around my waist, his fingers splayed possessively across my lower back, pulling me tightly against him. The other hand cupped the back of my neck, forceful yet precise, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin below my ear. His fingers tangled in my hair, giving it a slight tug that forced my head to tilt back, allowing him deeper access.

My body betrayed me almost instantly. A spark ignited between our lips, hot electricity coursing through my veins.

His kiss was like a meticulously planned assault, each movement precise—forceful yet gentle at just the right moments. My mind screamed for me to stop, to maintain my boundaries, but my lips parted of their own accord, surrendering to something primal.

His tongue swept in to tangle with mine, sending a current straight to my core, awakening memories I had desperately tried to forget. His taste—a faint bitterness of coffee mixed with something purely Luke—flooded my senses, igniting a dormant addiction.

A small sound escaped from deep in my throat, half protest, half surrender, swallowed by his lips. My hands, which had been pushing against him, now clutched his sweater, fingers twisting in the fabric, unsure whether I wanted to pull him closer or maintain what little distance remained between us.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more aggressive. My body seemed to melt, muscle memory awakening to every intimate moment we had once shared. My knees trembled slightly, nerves ignited by his touch, immersed in the embers of what once was.

When he finally pulled away, the air was too thin to breathe, my chest heaving as I gasped for oxygen. My cheeks burned hot, the flush spreading down my neck, my pulse pounding wildly at my throat.

Luke's eyes were almost completely black, pupils dilated with desire, a predatory gleam in them. His lips were still moist from our kiss, curving into a smug smile, a mixture of triumph and challenge. The sight of that smile sent my stomach flipping, anger and desire dangerously intertwined.

"From now on," he began, his voice deep as gravel, with a magnetism that sent shivers down my spine, "every time you say something I don't want to hear, I'm going to kiss you. One sentence, one kiss." His tone carried an arrogant confidence, each word like a whispered promise of more. His gaze held mine, intense and burning, with a naked possessiveness that made my abdomen involuntarily tighten.

The air between us seemed electrified, each breath like inhaling lightning. My fingers unconsciously touched my lips, still tingling and slightly swollen, bearing the imprint of his pressure.

I stepped back, unsteady on my feet, my heart hammering against my ribs so violently I was almost certain he could hear it. Luke's smile deepened, wolf-like, telling me he knew exactly what he had done—and exactly how deeply I had been affected.

"When did you get so strong?" I asked, my voice embarrassingly breathless. This wasn't the same man I had pushed in a wheelchair days ago. My gaze swept over him analytically, noticing the breadth of his shoulders, the solid muscles visible beneath his clothes—evidence of the rehabilitation training he had been doing. Had I been too focused on pushing him away to notice these physical changes?

My medical instincts took over, and I reached out to grab his wrist, checking his pulse. Everything seemed normal.

"Luke, have you been eating something you shouldn't?" I asked, my concern genuine despite my irritation.

He smiled, the curve of his lips razor-sharp with predatory intent. "I haven't eaten anything unusual. I just didn't want to upset you before!"

His confession left me more confused. Had he been deliberately appearing weaker than he actually was? Before I could press further, Luke's expression softened.

"Tara, Grandma and I have already told you everything we needed to say," he said gently. "We can't do without you, so stop pushing us away!"

The sincerity in his voice made my chest ache. I opened my mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sudden ring of Luke's phone.

The change in his expression immediately put me on alert. After looking at the screen, his face paled, then he glanced back at me, clearly trying to hide whatever was troubling him.

I moved quickly, snatching the phone before he could react.

"Repeat what you just told Luke," I commanded, putting the phone to my ear.