I need to be inside her.
When our kiss breaks, she's flushed and panting. She looks so fucking sexy like that, like she needs me more than she's ever needed anything.
"Fuck me," she says. "I don't care if it's here. I don't care if someone sees us. Right now, I don't even care if I get arrested. I need you, Luke. I need you so fucking bad."
I respond with my arms around her waist, my lips on her neck. She gasps and moans and melts completely into me. I take her hand and lead her into the bushes. The grass is wet, slippery, and Alyssa nearly trips. So I take her into my arms and carry her past a scattering of trees, to a patch of grass where no one can see us.
I lay her on the ground. She squirms and arches her back. Her dress rides up her legs and I suddenly remember that she's not wearing any underwear.
She's a fucking genius.
I kneel over her and trace the outline of her collarbone. She bites her lip, her eyes fluttering closed as she turns away.
"Luke," she groans.
Right now, she's mine. She's all mine.
I trace the neckline of her dress. Her skin is soft and wet, and my fingers slide over her with almost no friction. She squirms, reaching for my arms.
I pull her dress aside, exposing her breast, and bring my lips to her neck. Her nails find my back. She digs her hands into my shirt and groans.
I kiss her neck again, lower this time. Rain runs off her skin, but it still tastes like her, like Alyssa. I run my tongue along her collarbone and brush my fingers against the inside of her knee. She squirms again, her back arching, and I slide my fingers up her leg. Her thighs are such gorgeous curves, soft and firm at the same time.
She shifts, pulling her dress to her waist. My hands find the inside of her thighs, and I plant long, soft strokes on them. I touch her until she's moaning. Until she groans and digs her hands into my hair.
Her back arches, her chest shifting towards me like she's begging me to touch her. I lower myself and press my lips into the soft skin of her chest. She sighs, relaxing into a puddle of need.
I drag my mouth over her chest until I reach her nipple. She pants, digging harder into my hair like she's begging me to suck.
Like I could resist.
I trace her nipple with my tongue. It's so hard and soft, and it feels so good against my tongue. I run my tongue over it again. And again. Fast then slow. Soft then hard. I circle her nipple with my tongue until she's panting so loudly I can barely hear the rain.
"Luke," she groans. I brush my fingers over her, against her clit. She gasps, her body melting into the ground. I run my fingers over her again and again and again. And I bring my mouth to her nipples, sucking harder and harder and harder.
She arches her body into my hands, and my fingers slide inside her. She's so damn wet, and she's so damn desperate. I stroke her slowly, going deeper and deeper.
She squirms. "Fuck me. Fuck me now." She tugs at my T-shirt, pulling it over my head. Then her hands are on my body, hard against my chest, my back, my stomach. She undoes my belt, tears at my jeans and slides them past my ass.
And then her hands are on my cock. Fuck. She wraps her hands around me and strokes me.
Warmth spreads through me, and I start to lose touch with anything except Alyssa lying in front of me. She's so god damn beautiful. The rain is still pouring on her, and her wet dress clings to her curves. Every part of her is perfect--her soft, round breasts, her smooth thighs, the gentle curve of her neck. And her lips. Damn, her lips are so soft and sweet and warm.
She rubs me harder and harder. I can't wait anymore.
I shift out of my boxers and press her thighs apart, pinning her legs to the ground.
She wraps her hands around my cock, rubbing it up and down. I shudder. Alyssa. Damn. Alyssa. I push her dress higher, past her belly button, and she guides my cock inside of her.
Damn. She feels amazing. So warm and wet and tight.
I press my lips into hers, kissing her hard. She responds with her tongue in my mouth. It slides over mine with urgency.
I start slowly, thrusting into her. She grabs my back, sinking her teeth into my shoulders. Then I feel her teeth on my neck, my chest, my ears. She runs her hands down my back and settles on my ass. She pulls me towards her, and I thrust deeper inside her. We move like this for a while, slow, gentle thrusts filling us both with waves of pleasure.
She stops me, digs her hands into my hair and kisses me hard. When the kiss breaks, she stares into my eyes. It's like she can see into my fucking soul, see every single part of me. We don't say anything. We don't have to. We both know what this means, that this is all the apology we need.
I run my hands over her body, feeling every part of her. We kiss again, a long, slow, deep thing. Then her hands are on my back, and she's arching into me. I thrust into her, deeper and deeper. Mhmm. She feels so damn good. Warmth radiates through me and I start to fill with pleasure.
She groans and arches and pants and digs her nails into my back. She lifts her right leg and swings it over my shoulder. Then she does the same with the left. I pin her to the ground. She's here. She's mine. And she's completely helpless to do anything but come.
So I thrust into her, deeper and deeper. She moans, her arms flat against the ground, her hands clutching at the grass.
"Don't stop," she groans.
So I rock into her, filling her until she's almost there. Her eyes flutter closed. Her teeth sink into her lip. Her breath is ragged and shallow. And she groans. She tears up the ground. She screams.
"Luke." She moans, louder and louder, arching deeper and deeper. Her face is flushed and warm. Her lips are red, her eyes closed.
And she comes. I can see it in her face as all her muscles relax. It's the sexiest damn thing I've ever seen.
Her eyes open and she stares at me again. She shifts her legs off my shoulders and pulls me close. Her mouth hovers over my ear. "Fuck me," she says. "Come inside me."
Her hands are flat on my ass. She wraps her legs around me and rocks into me. Damn. Alyssa.
I thrust into her. Again and again and again. Pleasure overtakes me. Every part of my body is on fire. There's nothing in the world except for us. One more time. She digs her nails into my back and I bite the soft skin of her neck.
"Fuck," I groan. The ache inside me explodes, and I come, my cock pulsing inside her.
I collapse on top of her and catch my breath. She wraps her arms around me, holding me tightly.
"God damn," she says. She kisses my neck. "You better get dressed."
"Wouldn't you prefer it if I stayed naked?"
She giggles and presses her lips into mine. I struggle into my wet clothes, watching as she adjusts her dress.
"You want to go back to the apartment and get dry?" she asks.
I shake my head. "No. I want to go back to the apartment and get wet."
Her cheeks flush red and she bites her lip. "Deal."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Alyssa
After we clean up and get dirty all over again, Luke tells me he's made dinner reservations. "Somewhere nice," he says. And shakes his head. "Dammit, now I sound like Samantha. But you will probably want to dress up."
"In something nice?"
"Now you sound like her." He kisses my forehead and pulls me into his arms. "You would not believe how tempted I am to cancel the reservation, stay in, and fuck your brains out."
I gulp. "I have no objection to that."
"Too bad. You're not getting out of this." He digs through his luggage and pulls out a pair of slacks and a silk shirt. God damn, he's going to look good in that. "You'll like this place. And after dinner, I'm going to take you to... it's a surprise." A surprise after dinner? My immediate thoughts are filled with dread, but I push past it. Luke looks at me like he knows what I'm thinking. "It has nothing to do with eating or not eating or talking about eating. In fact, I swear that I'm not going to talk about eating for the rest of my trip."
"I'll believe it when
I hear it," I say.
He shakes his head playfully. "Still not a fan of promises from Luke Lawrence?"
"Definitely not."
There's an hour until we need to leave, so I drag Luke to the couch. We sit together, flipping through the channels and talking about nothing in particular. It's almost like a normal day at home, like I'm not in New York with my life turned upside down. For a minute, I can see this as a future. I can't see the big moments--the proposal, the wedding, the thirty year anniversary. I can't imagine us with kids. I really can't imagine me with kids. After all, I can barely take care of myself.
But I can see this. I can see lying next to him, doing nothing in particular. I can feel this, how safe I am when I'm around him, how much I know everything will be okay.
He gives so much of himself to me, puts up with so much of my bullshit. I have to do better. I have to talk to him, to explain that I see this too, that I want forever too. I have to show Luke that I'm as madly in love with him as he is with me.
But not yet. Right now, all I need to do is relax into his arms and soak in his presence. Right now, all I need is Luke.
***
The restaurant is, in fact, someplace nice. Insanely nice, actually. It's in midtown, hidden between a few skyscrapers. Best of all, it's private. Really private. Tinted windows. Drawn shades.
Our booth is in the back of the restaurant, in a quiet corner where almost no one can see us. It's still early in the evening, before the place is full of executives on dates with models, and there's almost no one here. Just me and Luke in our own private world.
Luke orders wine. Yes, wine. My mouth almost drops when he starts describing the flavor to me.
"Since when do you drink wine?" I ask.
"It's a special occasion."
"Is it?"
He nods. And is he... is he blushing? Luke fucking Lawrence, my obscenely confident boyfriend, is blushing.
This is unheard of.
And of course he doesn't look adorable or endearing. He looks hot as hell with his that color in his cheeks. He looks like he's just come down from an amazing orgasm.
"What are you thinking?" he asks.
I grin. "You don't want to know."
"Now I do." He sips his wine. His hands are shaking. It's a slight thing, barely noticeable, but it's there.
He's nervous.
He's never nervous.
"I was thinking about the way you look when you come," I say.
"Well, at least you are buying me dinner before you try and get in my pants."
"I'm buying you dinner here?"
He shakes his head. "No, it's on me." He flags down the waiter and orders another glass of wine. When the hell did he start drinking wine? He looks back at me, his confidence seemingly restored. "Really, Ally, when did you become such a pervert?"
"I'm the pervert?"
"Mhmm."
"Cause I'm the one who seduced you?"
He nods, his messy hair falling over his eyes. There's something different about him right now, and it's not just nerves. His eyes are always big and full of life, but they're especially bright today. They're lighting up the whole room. He's in slacks and a silk shirt. He almost always wears cotton. Hell, he brags that it's Egyptian cotton, amazing cotton, the best damn cotton in the world. He brags about how smooth it feels against his skin as he undoes his buttons, torturing me as slowly as humanly possible.
Usually when Luke is in a suit he looks like the epitome of confidence. He looks like the guy you would want behind your bench in court--serious, self-assured, with just a hint of sex appeal. But there's something about him today. It's almost like he's a little boy playing dress up or like a terrified teenager on his way to the prom.
He brings his gaze back to me. "Miss Summers, are you complaining?"
I shake my head.
"Because, if I recall correctly, I did deliver on my promise."
"And what was that?"
"To make you come."
"And you like to remind me."
"Well," he says. "I'm only trying to find the facts."
"Are you?"
"The truth is very important here."
"And what truth is that?"
"You were implying some sort of dissatisfaction. And I simply cannot have that," he says. "In fact, I'm not going to be happy unless you're incredibly satisfied." He runs his fingers along my arm. "Incredibly satisfied, incredibly often."
I look into his eyes. There's lust there, but there's something else too. There's a vulnerability.
"Mr. Lawrence, don't tell me you're suddenly doubting yourself."
"No, I still have vivid memories of that night and I'm quite certain that you came at least three times."
And now I'm the one with flushed cheeks. Luke smiles, his face lighting up again.
"I love when you get shy," he says. "There's an adorable innocence about it. I want to corrupt you."
Well, fuck. He's certainly pushed aside any nerves. Or maybe he hasn't. Maybe he's masking them with the one thing he can always be confident about.
I can't blame him. He's fucking fantastic with his hands, his mouth, and his cock. If I were him, I'd brag more than he does. If that's even possible.
The waiter returns with another round of drinks and we order. Luke says nothing when I order the usual seared fish and vegetables. Not a peep about treating myself or recovery or any of that bullshit. There's nothing on his face either.
Maybe he's going to mind his own business from now on.
No, that's not fair. I want to bring him into this. I want to tell him how I feel. But I have to do it on my terms.
"You can say it," I say.
"Say what?" He takes a long sip of his wine, his lips wrapped around the edge of the glass. God, have his lips always been that gorgeous?
"Make a comment about what I've ordered. We can get this all out of the way now, so I don't have to stew while you're watching me eat."
"No comments. I promise. You said you're doing okay. I trust you." He leans closer. "I love you so much, Ally. I'd never forgive myself if I did anything that hurt you."
"Everyone hurts each other. It's inevitable."
He shakes his head. "I have this painful urge to protect you."
"Then why did you tell me to do the play?"
"I have an equally painful urge to make sure I'm not getting in your way."
"You never could," I say.
"What if you stayed in L.A. because of me?"
"We'd have been spared this afternoon's fight."
He brings his gaze back to me. His eyes are on fire again. His whole face is animated and bright. "Be honest. Do you wish you'd turned down the play?"
I bite my lip. There have been a lot of awful moments, too many temptations to count, and it's terrible being so far from Luke. But I'm still glad I'm here. I was a nervous wreck for two weeks straight, but I'm finally calming down. And I'm on fucking Broadway.
"No," I say. "But I really wish there was a way you could be here with me without uprooting your life."
"My life is nothing without you in it."
My face flushes. I take a sip of tequila, but that only makes the situation worse.
"A year together and that still makes you nervous?" he asks.
I nod.
"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned." He lays his hand on top of mine and looks into my eyes. "Hell, you look so damn adorable when you're blushing. I don't think it's possible for me to feel anything negative when I see that."
And now it's much, much worse.
He laughs.
"Shut your beautiful mouth," I say. "I will have none of your sass."
"Not even a little bit?"
I shake my head.
"Even if it's the only way you can get into my pants?
"Always the same trump card."
He shakes his head. His eyes lock with mine. There's something so intense about it, almost as intense as before in the park.
I swear,
it's like he is looking straight into me.
I bite my lip, my cheeks no doubt even redder. He smiles and squeezes my hand. "You're amazing, Ally. I hope you never change."
"What if I become jaded and cynical in my old age?"
"I'll still love you."
"Even if I get fat and ugly?"
"You could never be ugly."
"What if I was in a disfiguring accident," I say. "A truly horrific one."
"Doesn't matter. You're still my Alyssa, even if you're my bitter, jaded, disfigured Alyssa." He looks around the room like he's checking for something, then he brings his gaze back to me. It's back, the nervousness. There's a hint of it in his eyes, in his shaking hand.
We lock eyes for a long time. It's disarming at first, but, after a few moments, there's something so comfortable about it. I study all the contours of his face--that messy hair, the big, brown eyes, the too beautiful, too skilled for words mouth. That's Luke. Yes, he's handsome as all hell, but that isn't what I think when I look at him.
It's just him. Luke. My boyfriend. The man I love more than anything. And, even though he still gives me butterflies, still takes my breath away, there's something about looking at him that makes me feel comfortable.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking," he says. His eyes turn back to mine, and there's something about his gaze. I can tell this is important.
"When you aren't torturing me?"
He nods. "My schedule of torturing you, maintaining my amazing body, and running a one-man law firm doesn't leave much time for thinking, but I make do." He smiles. His cheeks fill with a hint of color again. God, he really is nervous.
I let him speak.
"You're amazing, Ally. We can get the obvious out of the way first. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he says. "Really, I can't believe my luck every time I look at you. I mean, I know I'm sexy as all hell, but still."
He pulls his hands into his lap. "And you're so damn thoughtful. You don't even realize it. You're on another level. I love that you would rather spend your night reading than at a party. I love that you get excited about Tennessee Williams, that you aren't afraid to correct me or tell me when I'm being an idiot. And I love how shameless you are about your lust for coffee. It's so rare to see you allow yourself that much pleasure, but it's so damn beautiful."
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