The Turning Point

by Marie Meyer

  “You said ‘might have it.’ That means there’s a possibility that you might not. How do we find out?”

  We? Why wasn’t he running? Getting as far away from me as possible? “There is no ‘we,’ Lucas.” My eyes flooded. The dam was full and about to be breached.

  He pulled his eyebrows tight, creases forming between them. “What the hell does that mean? Of course there’s a ‘we.’” He grabbed my hands. “You don’t think I’m going to let you figure this out alone, do you?”

  More damn tears spilled over my bottom lids. “That’s really sweet,” I choked, “but I can’t…I just can’t.” I cried. My resolve washed away. “You deserve so much better.”

  He put his hand on my wet cheek. “Sophia, I don’t know what scares me more, the fact that you think you’re not good enough for me or the reality of being without you.”

  I brushed his hand away. He did need a dose of reality. “Where’s your computer?”

  “In the safe. Why?” he answered, confused.

  I looked into his eyes, a challenge to myself not to let my guard down just because his eyes could see into my soul. “You need to see what reality will be like if you do stay with me. You saw Graziana’s picture. At sixty-seven she was already confined to a bed, having lost most, if not all, of her motor function. She was on a feeding tube and oxygen. Is that what you want?” I yelled through my tears. “To wipe drool off my mouth because my body no longer works? To sit by my bedside until my heart gives out and I flatline?”

  “Yes,” he said with a simple nod. His eyes were a soft, honest, tranquil blue. A placid sea of truth. I believed him.

  But I didn’t want to. He didn’t deserve that sucky reality. “No,” I protested. “You are going to find someone who colors your world with life, gives you children, someone to grow old with.”

  “I’ve had more color in my life these last six weeks than I’ve ever had, Sophia.” His words were biting but not angry. I knew what he was trying to do; he saw my defenses crumbling and he was prepared to bring them down. “Do I need to spell it out for you?” he asked, gripping my hands so hard between his. “Crimson: the color of your cheeks when you’re embarrassed or excited. Espresso: the color of your hair in the lemon-yellow Italian sunshine and a drink that makes you stick your tongue out and cringe with disgust. Almost black: your eyes beneath the white, twinkling stars at night. Mint green: your chin, after you dribbled mint chocolate chip gelato all over. Olive: the night you saved that little girl who was choking. Periwinkle: the color that knocked me on my ass.”

  He remembered the color of the shirt I was wearing the day I bumped into him. I closed my eyes, bombarded with so many different emotions. Why was he doing this?

  “Should I go on? There are about ten million different colors the human eye can see. I see you, Sophia, and you’re a fucking rainbow. A promise after a shit storm.”

  I sniffled and leaned over to the table by the bed, pulling a tissue from the box. Lucas leaned over and grabbed the whole box, plunking it down between us.

  “No one is guaranteed tomorrow,” he said. “We live the day we’re given, enjoy the time we have, and love the people in our life. A damn piano could fall on my head the second I walk out of this hotel.”

  I wiped my eyes and blew my nose into a tissue, giving him a dirty look. “What, are you a cartoon?”

  He shook his head, his mouth curling into a crooked smile. He tugged on my hands and pulled me toward him. With our foreheads resting together, he stared into my almost-black eyes. “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “The day Julia left me at the altar was the third best day of my life.”

  Where was this coming from? He made no sense. “The third?”

  “Sí, because if I had married her, I would’ve been in Paris on my honeymoon, not Italy. And you would have never had the chance to bump into me. I should call her and say thank you.”

  “You might have been better off if I hadn’t bumped into you.” I yanked a pillow onto my lap and hugged it tightly.

  “Uh!” He pointed. “Shush! None of that. They’re my best days. You don’t get to disagree.”

  “Okay, then, what about the second best day of your life?”

  “Pompeii. The day I met you.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Soph,” he warned. “Are you making fun of the best days of my life?” He spread his legs apart, dragged me across the bed, turned me around, and wrapped his strong arms around me.

  I loved this. Being secured in his arms. “No, never,” I said. “But I’m curious—what was the best day of your life?”

  He paused, then tilted my head to the side, sweeping my hair away. His lips touched the hollow below my ear, and he whispered, low and husky, “Right now.”

  He didn’t move away so quickly this time, kissing me again. “And right now.” His mouth opened and closed along my neck. “And now…and now…and now…”

  With each kiss, he repeated the same words. I craned my head, looking over my shoulder, a desperate need to look into his eyes.

  We stared at each other for a long minute. The connection growing stronger and stronger.

  “And now,” he whispered, lowering to my lips.

  Slow, sweet kisses quickly segued into deep, soul-searching embraces.

  Hooking a hand around my waist, he turned me and pushed me back on the mattress. Caged by his arms at the side of my head, I looked into his eyes. “You could have a chance at something normal, Lucas. Why me?”

  “Normal’s boring. I want the ten million colors in full, gleaming high definition.” He lowered his arms and tilted his head, coming in to kiss me again, but I stopped him, pressing my index finger to his lips. He kissed my finger and mumbled, “What?”

  “What if I do have it?”

  He rolled off me and propped his head up in his hand. Sweeping the fingers of his other hand across my cheek, he asked, “How do we find out?”

  I folded my hands on top of my stomach. “A blood test. There’s a fifty-fifty chance either way.”

  “So, this is what we’ll do,” he said, unlacing my folded hands, one finger at a time. “When you get back to St. Louis, make an appointment to have the test done.” With his right hand, he pushed his fingers between mine. “And I’ll be right there with you.”

  I craned my neck to get a better look at him. “You’d come to St. Louis? You’d go with me?”

  “In a fucking heartbeat.” He lowered his arm and rested his head on top of his bicep.

  “I did not see you coming.” This time, I was the one who moved in for a kiss.

  I felt his lips break into a smile against mine. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lucas slowly trailed his hand down my cheek, over my neck, and across my collarbone—the only exposed skin. But my clothing didn’t deter his southward pursuit. Even through the thin cotton of my shirt, I was hyperaware of his touch. How his fingertips grazed over the swell of my breast, lingering at the peak…teasing.

  With each deliberate, enticing swirl of his thumb, my body came alive. Yet, it wasn’t his gifted hand alone that made my breath come quicker and send shivers down my spine. It was his eyes. Always his eyes.

  To say they were expressive was an understatement, just the tip of the iceberg. His eyes told a story. One of happiness, desire, intrigue, sadness, warmth, love—it all radiated from their bright cerulean cores, the center and focal points that surrounded his pupils. From the day we met, I wanted to swim in that ocean, be swept away by his gaze and get lost beneath the crushing waves of his stare. To be a part of his story.

  I touched his arm, my fingers disappearing under his shirtsleeve. His skin was smooth over the hard, taut muscle of his bicep. I clenched it, feeling him flex as he moved his hand lower on my belly, lifting the hem of my shirt.

  The instant he made contact with my skin, I sucked in a breath. “Are my hands cold?” he asked.

  I moved my head side to
side. “Very much the opposite.” My voice was garbled and shallow. I attempted to clear my throat.

  As the branding touch of Lucas’s hand moved up my body, he shifted his weight and sat up, lifting my shirt higher. I subtly raised my shoulders and he pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor.

  His eyes slowly roamed my body, landing on every hill and valley. He watched the rise and fall of my chest, not allowing himself to touch until his eyes touched first. Even though this wasn’t the first time he had seen me like this, tonight was different.

  The night of his birthday, I’d wanted to give him everything I had. I was ready. I needed that last connection to him. But Lucas still thought he had to prove himself to me. He wanted me to know that every part of me was special to him, not a fleeting moment in bed.

  But tonight was different. He was right here with me. There were no more secrets between us. He wasn’t chasing a ghost from his past, and for once, I wasn’t afraid of my shadowed future. I needed this. I wanted him…all of him, everything he was willing to give me. I needed to feel alive while I still had the chance.

  Working my hand down to the bend of his elbow, I memorized how my fingertips flowed over his skin and how the hair on his arm bristled at my touch.

  “Two more colors I can add to my list.” He touched my shoulder, hooking his index finger around my bra strap and sliding it away. “These are going to be the death of me when I get the rest of your clothes off.” He fingered a line from my shoulder to the curve of my breast, dipping into my bra at my cleavage.

  I craned my neck to see what he was talking about. “What?”

  He leaned over and kissed my shoulder. “I’m going to call this color…mocha.”

  My head fell back onto the pillow the second his lips touched me.

  Dragging his mouth and tongue down the line his finger had trailed, he murmured, “And this is ivory.” His tongue slid across the contour of my breast, along the hot pink lace of my bra. “Fucking tan lines get me every time. I can’t wait to see the outline of that little bikini you wore the other day.” He looked up and caught my eye.

  I flashed him a teasing smile. “Tan lines? Really?”

  He nodded, like a kid in a candy store. Kicking his leg over, he sat up on top of me. I watched as his eyes grazed over my body and his fingers traced the lines down my other shoulder. I loved the unhurriedness, the deliberate, measured pace he’d set…like I was something to savor…to cherish…to remember.

  With my hand at his waist, I wanted the same pleasure, to be able to drink in the view of his glorious body. I lifted his shirt, tugging it upward until he reached behind his back and pulled it all the way off.

  The musculature of his torso was a thing of beauty, utterly mouthwatering. I wanted to touch every defined muscle—no, it was more like I wanted to lick every defined muscle. The urge to run my tongue over every dip and rise of his six-pack nearly consumed me.

  I started to run my fingers along the ridges of his stomach, but he stilled my hand. “Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “If you get the whole view, then so do I.”

  Letting go of my hand, he pushed his beneath me, deftly unclasping the hooks of my bra. Not supported any longer, my full breasts spilled from their cups. Lucas dragged the straps down my arms, until I shrugged out of them altogether.

  “Better?” I smirked.

  “Getting there.” He winked, cupping my breasts gently. Inhaling sharply, he breathed, “So much better.”

  My eyes fluttered closed, soaking up every burst of pleasure from the millions and millions of nerve endings firing on my skin. His thumbs circled over my nipples, drawing them into tight beads, driving a pulsing ache between my legs. Involuntarily, my chest rose, begging for more attention from his clever hands.

  Lucas dropped his head to my left breast, taking it into his mouth, while his other hand stayed busy on the right.

  His mouth was hot and slick. Incredible. He sucked, drawing in more of me. He varied his pressure, circling his tongue over my nipple before tugging it between his teeth.

  “Uhh,” I whimpered. My hips bucked, and I could feel him, ready, at my center.

  I raked my short fingernails down his back, pushing my hands into the waistband of his shorts, cursing that damn belt he wore. There wasn’t enough room for my hands to get very far.

  Sliding them along the top edge of his pants, around to the front, I fumbled with the belt buckle. Lucas sat up, abandoning his divine ministrations to my chest. I yanked on a belt loop. “These have to go.”

  His eyes shined with eagerness. “Reciprocity, my dear.”

  I giggled. “Yes, sir.”

  Lucas dropped a leg to the floor and stood, unbuckling his belt. With a quick flick his button came undone; he lowered the zipper and pushed his shorts and boxer briefs down all at once. With his clothes puddled on the floor around his ankles, he stood naked in front of me. I’d meant to wiggle out of my pants at the same time, but watching him undress had short-circuited my brain.

  He stepped out of his discarded shorts and took a half step toward the bed. “Let me help you with these.” He put his hands at the waistband of my shorts and tugged. “I have a thing about being the only one naked. I don’t like it much.”

  I heard the words he was saying; I thought I even comprehended them…maybe. I think he was even touching me. But at the moment, my brain was focused on his massive erection. No matter how many times I saw him naked, my jaw still hit the floor. I knew it wasn’t possible, but I swore he got bigger every time we took our clothes off.

  Fighting with my shorts, Lucas yanked harder, pulling me down the bed.

  “Whoa!” I laughed. Raising my hips off the bed, Lucas gave one last tug, and I was just as naked as him.

  He tossed my shorts to the floor. “Soph,” he breathed, “you are so damn beautiful.”

  He lifted his leg onto the bed, wedging his knee between mine. With our eyes locked, I opened to him. He drew his other leg up, kneeling. He was right there, on full display, a beautiful temptation I couldn’t resist touching.

  I put my hands on his waist, running my fingertips across his tan stomach. His abdominal muscles clenched, rippling under my touch. With my right index finger, I traced the trail of golden brown hair leading from his belly button, downward, until I reached his length. I brushed my fingers over him.

  “Hhhh,” he breathed, letting his head fall back.

  I liked that I was able to elicit that kind of reaction from him, not to mention how hot it was.

  Exploring his body with my hands, I took note of all the places that made his muscles quake, the spots that made him groan, low and deep. Being a student was second nature; I observed, catalogued, processed, and Lucas just became my new favorite subject. I wanted to find and remember all the places that made him come to life.

  Sweeping my hands over the slight curve of his backside, down his thighs, I slowly dragged my fingers to the front, moving toward his inner thighs, teasing. Lucas looked down at me and took my hand, wrapping it solidly around his erection. “You’re killing me, Soph.”

  He was hard in my hand, and when I moved my fist, he got harder. “Fuck,” he groaned, his legs shaking.

  In a rhythmic motion, I pumped my hand along his length, increasing the pace, until I couldn’t take it any longer. I lifted up, balancing my weight on one elbow, and wrapped my mouth around him. My hand always made him convulse with pleasure, so I was eager to use my mouth as well.

  “Sophia…” He threaded his fingers through my hair, gripping the back of my head. “Jesus.”

  He rocked his hips and guided my head with his hand. I took him, deeper and deeper, the ache between my legs growing every time I swirled my tongue around him.

  “Mmm,” I hummed. I couldn’t help it; I was so turned on.

  “Soph,” Lucas said with a sense of urgency. “I’m so close…” He pulled away. I looked up at him, towering above me. “I don’t want to come like this, not tonight.”


  Caressing my cheek with his knuckles, he leaned down, pushing me back on the pillows, stretching out along my body. “That was fucking amazing,” he said, brushing my hair away from my forehead. “That pretty mouth of yours is lethal.”

  I smoothed my hands across his back, my inner sex kitten smiling unabashedly.

  “Sophia, I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that I want to figure it out with you. No matter what. Coming to Italy was the best decision I ever made.” He tilted his head and kissed me.

  His lips tangled with mine. Moving his hand downward, he skimmed over my breast and kept going…farther…until his hand was between my thighs.

  He circled his thumb over my clit, while his fingers inched closer to my center. “You’re so wet.”

  My back arched, and Lucas took complete advantage of the angle, kissing and licking his way up my neck. I rocked my hips against his hand. “Oh…Lucas,” I groaned.

  I wanted more. I needed it. “Please…”

  With him, the lead-up to sex was infinitely better than the act itself, at least from what I knew of it. Lucas made my body sing with just a touch. What was it going to be like when he was inside of me?

  Dear God, what is he doing with his thumb? It felt like lightning or fireworks were going to burst through my skin.

  “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you want.” His lips moved at my ear, nibbling my earlobe, pulling it between his teeth.

  Caught up in him and his skillful hands, he made it hard to talk, but I managed a breathy reply. “You…I want you.”

  He slipped a finger inside me. In and out. In and out. My hips bucked.

  “How do you want me?” he whispered, sliding another finger inside. His thumb continued the torturously delicious circular motion over my clit.

  I was ready. I wanted the orgasm…craved it…needed it.

  So close…almost there…

  I was about to come undone. Pressure built in my core and between my legs. My fuse was burning away fast and detonation was inevitable…if I could just get him where I needed him. I grit my teeth together and whimpered. “I want you inside me.”