by Maria Luis
Do not answer. Do not encourage.
Anna put her head down and climbed Luke’s porch steps, not the least bit surprised when the guy doubled back around to wrap a hand around a wrought-iron pole from the house next-door.
“You are beauuutifullllll! Anyone ever tell you that?”
She rapped on Luke’s door, perhaps a tad bit more desperately than the situation warranted. But after last year’s events, you just never really knew a person’s true motivations, and Anna had no plans of finding out if the drunk had anything up his sleeves. Glancing beseechingly at the front window where she’d seen Sassy’s silhouette, she muttered, “C’mon, Luke, open up.”
As though he’d been waiting just on the other side, the door flung open, and she let out a huge sigh of relief to see Luke standing there, looking as strong and delicious as always. The urge to leap into his arms for safekeeping had her pinning her heels together.
His crystal-green gaze shot from her to the drunk now spinning around the pole as he hollered “singing in the rain” at the top of his lungs.
Huh. Maybe he was nothing but three sheets to the wind, and so maybe Anna had overreacted.
“Is he your plan for the night?” said the drunk, in between spins around the pole. “I can see why you were distracted, girl—he is fiiiinnne.”
Luke lifted a brow. “He a friend of yours?”
“Yes!”
“I’ve never met him,” Anna said. Slowly, as though in stages, she became aware of the fact that Luke’s chest was glistening. So was his hair, for that matter. A droplet of water careened down his sternum, over his washboard abs (how did he keep so fit even after all of these months of inactivity?) and slipped under the waistband of his drawstring sweatpants.
He was the epitome of male perfection on every Calvin Klein ad she’d ever seen, and she would be lying if she said that the sight of him didn’t have an effect on her. She wanted to see what lay beneath the pants. She wanted to taste the trail of flesh that the droplet of water had already traveled.
Heat fanned her cheeks, which not even the crisp night air could alleviate.
This is why you shouldn’t have worn stockings.
The stockings had been a must, a paltry attempt at a modern-day chastity belt.
Luke gave her a slow smile, like he knew exactly where her dirty mind had taken her. Stepping to the side, he motioned for her to come inside, just as he called out, “Hey, my man, have a good night, all right? I’m being summoned to provide entertainment.”
Whatever the drunken guy said in reply was lost after Luke slammed the door and grabbed a terrycloth towel off the entryway table. He rubbed it over his head, sending water droplets everywhere, and then hooked the fabric around his neck like a pro-athlete after a hard-fought victory.
Oh. Wow. Talk about fantasy material.
She bet he didn’t even know how much he’d just rocked her world with nothing but a damp chest and a towel-sling. Or maybe he did. It wasn’t like she’d made her attraction to him a secret since they’d collided at his mother’s shop. Just like he hadn’t bothered to hide the fact that her attraction was definitely one-sided.
Except for that hot-as-hell kiss against her car.
And the unexpected gift on Thanksgiving.
At the sound of dog nails clipping across the hardwood floors, Anna tore her gaze away from Luke’s naked torso and slipped a hand over Sassy’s back. His tongue scraped from her wrist to her elbow, leaving behind a trail of sticky dog drool.
“Ah, shit, I’m sorry.” Luke slicked off the terrycloth towel and snuck a hand around her bicep, gently tugging her close.
Anna’s breath caught. Held. How did he render her silent with just the slightest touch? It was incredibly inconvenient, especially when you factored in the fact that Luke had no intention of doing the deed with her anytime soon.
Which left just Anna and her vibrator for company.
Not like she wasn’t accustomed to that arrangement by now.
Unless she set up another date with Ajax. Except that she wasn’t all that interested, and Anna had never been the sort of person to lead somebody else on. Either she was all in or she wasn’t in at all, and after the previous weekend’s lackluster date, she didn’t think her neighbor was interested in setting up a second outing either. He’d asked, but she had chalked it up to him trying to be polite.
At the soft rub of the towel against her skin, Anna jolted and averted her eyes. “Where’s your cane?” she asked, in what had to be the most obvious subject change known to mankind.
“By the bed.”
Oh, by the bed. He said it like he said everything else—matter-of-factly. If he was also thinking of her naked and in his bed, his tone gave nothing away.
Anna sighed in defeat.
“Did you get the go-ahead to stop using it?” He was still rubbing the drool from her arm, only she was pretty sure that he’d wiped everything up already. He didn’t stop, though his touch gentled, and Anna didn’t step away.
Pull yourself together. This is getting ridiculous.
Shut up, she told herself, and then promptly rotated her arm so he could access another part. She felt like she’d devolved back to high school, when it was totally cool to pretend that you’d sprained your ankle just so the cute, popular guy would stop and check for any permanent damage.
Sassy’s drool didn’t even constitute as temporary damage, and she didn’t miss the way the Dane’s gaze snapped up to hers as though to say, Girl, I’m not that gross.
He seemed to read her expression—which gave off a more, don’t-judge-me vibe—and snuffed through his snout before prancing over to the couch. He climbed up with one heavy leg and then the other, and didn’t even hesitate before collapsing in a hundred-fifty-pound heap on the armrest.
A masculine hand flashed in front of her face, trying to get her attention. “You there?”
“What? Yes.” I’ve just been having a cold war with your dog. “I’m here. Totally present. One-hundred percent in the game.”
Luke’s brows lowered. “Are you drunk?”
If she were, this whole gift-giving thing would probably go a lot smoother. Which brought up the question: why hadn’t she bothered to have a quick nip for courage before she’d left the boutique? Obviously, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. “I’m not drunk,” she said, forcing a light laugh that sounded strained to her own ears. “Do I seem drunk to you?”
If it were possible, his brows lowered even farther and Anna swore they were on the verge of knitting together. In a low grumble, he muttered, “You seem . . . something.”
Besieged by nerve-ridden anxiety? Why, yes, yes she was.
Sassy lifted his head to stare at her, as though waiting for her to embark on a nervous meltdown. Anna didn’t do meltdowns, no matter the extent of her nerves, and when the Dane realized nothing exciting was about to go down, he planted his chin on his paws and closed his eyes against the pathetic sight of her scrambling to form coherent sentences.
She didn’t blame him.
Luke clutched the towel in one large fist by his side, and then pointed with his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ve got wine in the fridge, if you want me to break it open.”
“Can you put on a shirt or something?” she blurted, barely aware of the words until he twisted, just so, and the cords of his shoulder muscles tightened. It seemed that her 24-hour waterproof foundation was about to be tested, thanks to the beads of sweat forming in her hairline.
He tossed the towel over the back of the couch, narrowly missing Sassy’s head. “You having trouble concentrating?”
Anna tipped up her chin. “You’re a bit sweaty.”
“I just showered.”
“Did you?” She sent a quick, impersonal glance over his body. “I barely noticed.”
“Then why are your cheeks the same color as your red purse?”
She resisted the urge to hold her red purse over her red flaming cheeks. “I’m not embarrassed,” she said, cursi
ng herself for falling into his trap. She was totally embarrassed . . . and turned on. Forget her cheeks, the sight of him had her nipples as hard as diamonds. Not that they were diamonds; it was just a metaphor.
She subtly glanced down at her chest, and sure enough, diamonds. Through her cream-colored dress. Would Julian miss her if she just launched herself into oncoming traffic? It seemed preferable to witnessing the knowing expression on Luke’s face, despite the fact that he did the gentlemanly thing and kept his gaze above her neck.
But that look in his green eyes said that he knew about her . . . predicament.
“I’m not embarrassed,” she repeated stuffily. “I actually came by to bring you something.”
His full mouth broke into an unexpected grin. “A present? You shouldn’t have, Bryce.”
Bryce. He was never going to let her live down her last-guy-on-earth statement. Even if it had been issued in a state of self-preservation. “Don’t make it weird,” she said, throwing his words back in his face from the other night as she propped her purse on the back of the couch. Sassy’s chin came off his massive paws. “It’s nothing big.”
Luke stepped next to her right elbow, still half-naked, damn him. Did he not realize that him walking around without a shirt should come with a hazard label?
Beware of falling for emotionally unavailable male.
In other words: Abort! Abort!
If only he’d worn such a label when she’d sent him crashing to the ground at Herbal Heaven; maybe Anna would have been content to just be in a relationship with Ajax.
She felt Luke’s big body step close to her back, his breath rustling her hair. “How ‘not big’ are we talking?” he asked, one hand coming to rest on the back of the couch by her purse.
If he placed his other hand down on the couch, they’d be one move away from reliving that night against her car. Was he thinking about their kiss?
Anna shoved her hand into her Texas-sized purse. “Not big.”
“Has to be somewhat big if you decided to lug this monstrosity around.” He nudged the purse with his knuckles, and his arm brushed up against hers. “Give me a hint.”
“You’re about to open it! You don’t get a hint.”
“A small one.”
“No.”
His other hand landed on the couch, and oh God, he smelled delicious. Like woods mixed with man, and perhaps a touch of citrus, like he’d recently snacked on an orange.
“What are you doing?” She tried to keep her voice at a normal pitch. It was hard. As hard as her nipples.
Stop thinking about your nipples.
“Trying to take a peek.”
Was that all he was doing?
“You’re an awful gift-receiver,” she told him. Where in the blasted hell was his gift? Her hand swiped her wallet to the side, digging deep into the folds of the purse. Chapstick, no. Tube of lipstick, no. Lip gloss—had she always carried this many lip products with her? “I didn’t peek when you gave me my present.”
His breath whispered across the strip of exposed skin on her back when he said, “Did you like the ornaments?”
“Yes.” Later that night, Julian had called her a nerd. He wasn’t wrong. “Where did you find them?”
“It’s my secret.”
“And if you tell me you’ll have to kill me?” she teased. “Don’t fall back on the tired clichés, O’Connor. You’re better than that.”
“How much better?”
Was it just her or did his voice sound deeper, more suggestive?
Anna made another hasty pass through her purse, on the verge of admitting defeat. “Don’t make me issue another dare. I wouldn’t want to bury you in another loss.”
She practically felt his deep-seated laughter reverberate through her chest, he was that close. “You didn’t win last time, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart, not Bryce. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. “It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it out loud, but I won. Hands down.”
“If I concede the win,” he murmured, “do I have to give you something? A trophy? A blue participation ribbon?”
Anna wanted another kiss. She wanted his lips moving over hers, his hands molding over her body. “You gave me the pizza decorations already.” She turned her head slightly, so she could watch him over the curve of her shoulder. Almost instantly, his green gaze fell to her mouth, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted to give her a trophy. “I don’t accept participation ribbons.”
His stare flared with sudden heat, and for the first time Anna realized something rather spectacular: he wanted her. It was blindingly shocking, although maybe it shouldn’t have been whatsoever, but she had limited experience with sex and with men and, yeah, she was surprised.
Large hands cupped her elbows and turned her around. Her purse fell with a thunk to the floor. He backed her up, pressing her into the couch. Anna caught her lower lip between her teeth, and almost giggled when she heard his heartfelt groan.
“I’m going to kiss you.” He uttered the words bluntly, honestly.
Anna felt liquid warmth pool between her legs. “Are you going for a blue participation ribbon?”
His forehead creased as his eyebrows arched high. “You think that’s the only reason why I want to kiss you?”
“I don’t know.” Biting her lip, she lifted a hand to his hard chest. The muscles jumped beneath her fingertips, a sure-tell sign that he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he’d like to pretend. She raised her chin and met his glittering gaze. “Is it?”
His hands shifted from her elbows to her biceps, and before she even realized what he was doing, she found herself seated on the back of the couch, the cushion sinking beneath her butt, her legs wrapped tight around his hips. She released a surprised, “oh!” and then strung her arms around his neck like a monkey.
With a look Anna could only classify as appalled, Sassy clambered off the couch and slunk towards the bed.
Luke’s wandering hands snared her attention to where it belonged: on the gorgeous man standing between her legs.
“Let’s get this straight,” he growled, “I’m not kissing you for a participation ribbon.”
Anna’s gaze centered on the beating pulse at the place where his neck and collarbone met. Her fingers drifted there. “Okay.”
“Or a trophy.”
Acting on impulse, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to that spot. “Not a participation ribbon,” she whispered, “or a trophy.” She glanced up, fingers now climbing up his neck to sink into his hair. She felt a thrill of victory when his eyelids fluttered shut and he sank into her touch. “Why do you want to kiss me then?”
Blunt fingertips tightened on her hips. “Why did you come here tonight?”
Smooth deflection, she thought with a half-smile. They were two peas in a pod. “Because I had a gift to give you—a belated Merry Thanksgiving gift.”
“I don’t see the gift, not one that I’m not already holding, that is.”
Oh boy, it was so cheesy but Anna didn’t even care. She grinned up at him. “See, thing is, I think I forgot it.”
“You forgot it?”
“Yes, at the boutique.”
His hands slid up from her hips to the curve of her waist, his thumbs resting just below the underwire of her bra. “You might have to give me something in exchange.”
Remember to keep breathing, girl. “Like what?”
Green eyes fixed on her lips, sending a fluttering sensation swirling through her belly. “You told me that after three dates, the winner could choose whatever they wanted.”
“I wouldn’t say you’ve won . . .”
“Considering that you’re here, in my arms, I’d say you didn’t have any better luck finding yourself the perfect match either, sweetheart.”
There he went with the ‘sweetheart’ thing again. She said as much, not the least bit surprised when he ignored her and said, “Ask me what I want.” Luke lifted his hand to her mouth, brushing the pa
d of his thumb across her lower lip.
She nipped him, and he only laughed.
“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured huskily, dropping his face to the curve of her neck. “Ask me.”
She heaved out a theatrical sigh, trying hard to save face. She wanted this, him. Anna only hoped he thought it all boiled down to lust. “What do you want, Luke?”
His lips slipped against the curve of her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive flesh there. Then, he moved, just slightly, and his voice came out as a seductive rumble. “I dare you to kiss me.”
And just like that, her mouth was on his, and the only thought playing on repeat in Anna’s head was, I dare you to love me, Luke O’Connor.
Chapter Twenty-Four
This was so much better than that kiss against her car, and that was saying something because that kiss had been hot. Somehow, this kiss was even hotter.
It was like she and Luke were battling for power. Anna tugged on his hair, and he did the same to her, drawing her head back so that his lips could find the pulse beneath her jawline. She locked her legs around his hips, and he drew her closer with a hand to the top of her butt and a heartfelt groan when his erection fit snugly against the apex of her thighs.
“I want to feel your skin,” he muttered as he plucked at her stockings.
Anna smirked. “Impatient, are you?”
His hard, green eyes lifted to her face. “I’d say I’m not the only one feeling impatient. You’ve been trying to get me into bed for weeks now.”
Her smirk disappeared as a red flush swept over her cheeks. “I have not,” she argued fruitlessly, wholly aware of the wobble in her voice. She couldn’t help it—he’d started removing her stilettos, throwing one and then the other over his shoulder. He looked like a Viking ready to plunder his new treasure. A king ready to take what was his.
Then he ruined the image by fumbling with the toes of her stockings, giving short, quick tugs at the seams as he tried to remove them.
His annoyance shouldn’t have been such a turn-on. It shouldn’t have made her want to giggle, as he failed to budge the stockings at all. She studied him, noting the matching ticks in his jaw and by his hairline. As hard as his body was, as rugged as his features were, his mouth was as soft as cream as he dipped his head and captured her lips with his.