Lovelight Farms (Lovelight, #1)

by B.K. Borison

Even if the reason I haven’t been with anyone in seventeen months is because I always inevitably compare every man against Luka, and I’m always left disappointed.

“And didn’t you ask him to come home for the strawberry jam cook-off in April?” I sink farther into my chair. “He loves strawberry jam.”

LUKA: You’re cute when you’re lying to me, by the way.

“just because you let yourself love someone doesn’t mean they’re going to leave.”

He blinks at me, his hand coming up to press against his mouth. “What was that?” he whispers. I shrug. “You wanted a kiss. I gave you a kiss.” “What you gave me is a concussion. Is that how you kiss?” He looks genuinely concerned.

“If anyone sees us kiss like that, they’ll know in half a second we are full of shit.” It’s a fair point. “Okay, then you try.” “I am trying to try,” he mutters, exasperated.

And a voice memo reminding himself to pick up fresh tomatoes and chicken stock, voice out of breath, the heavy sound of weights in the background. That one had me picturing Luka sweaty and flushed, hair damp just behind his ears. Arms flexing and releasing. I listened to that voice memo twice before I deleted it completely from my phone, concerned with myself.

“I could see how much it takes. The sounds you make,” he says, voice low and intimate, a grit to it I’ve never heard before. His bedroom voice, I think faintly. Half of his mouth curls up in a wicked grin. His brown eyes are burnished with gold—molten and warm. “If you’re quiet or loud.”

“Why?” I ask. His answer is important. “Because I really fucking want to,” he releases on a breath.

“Meaning if we’re here, and I want to press you into the countertop and see what you taste like, then I can try that.” My stomach swoops low. He nuzzles my knee. “If you want.”

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all week,” I feel him say against my lips. That’s nice. I’ve been thinking about kissing him since I was twenty-three.

Luka’s jealous. He walked in, saw us at the table laughing, and got jealous. It’s amazing. I rest my chin in my hand, amused.

“Why are we slow-dancing?” Luka rests his chin on top of my head. “This is how my parents argued,” he confesses quietly, a grin in his voice. “Or I guess, this is how they had big conversations. My dad said he liked to keep my mom close, but I really think he wanted a way to politely restrain her.”

know you can take care of yourself. You’ve been doing that as long as I’ve known you. But let me hold your hand while you do it, okay?”

“Christmas Vacation is one of my favorite holiday movies.” “Me too,” he agrees, and he does that hair flip thing again. I don’t know how he manages to stay conscious with such an aggressive head jerk every thirty seconds. “We have so much in common.”

“Is exile a thing? Can we ship him to Peru? His alpaca-loving heart would finally be satisfied.” “Beckett, be serious please.” “You’re right. He’d be too happy there. Let’s ship him someplace miserable. Like Florida.”

Not too much on Florida now lmaoooo

“I’m in love with you,” he says, frustrated and shirtless in my bed. He yells it at me, really, his dark eyebrows angry slashes over his eyes. “I’m in love with you and I want to be with you.”

I’m going to love her in all the quiet ways, the slow ways, the loud and obnoxious ways.