by Helena Rac
“Hey now, enough about me. No need to scare off the lovely brunette to my left.” He nudges my shoulder just as his hand lands unexpectedly and inconspicuously on my knee. His fingers linger and brush my skin softly. My skin tingles, my toes curl, and my heart feels like it may need a moment to collect itself from wherever it scattered the second his hand landed on my knee.
“Yeah, that’s never gonna happen,” Clara jumps in. “Tessa really doesn’t get scared very easily. She’s normally the one to scare off the boys.”
Great. I really should remind Clara of the definition of over-sharing, since she’s obviously incapable of suppressing personal facts about me.
“Should I be worried?” The way Luke’s smirking, I’d say he seems to find this information amusing. Or a challenge, maybe?
“All I can say is, you better watch it, Mr. Callaghan!” I challenge back confidently. It may seem as though I’m playing along, but the truth is, I’m dead serious. He really has no idea how accurate Clara’s comment is. In the past three years, I’ve dodged pretty much every advance that’s come my way. It was the safest alternative. Heartbreak can taste bitter for a while, and I much prefer the taste of sugar.
“Duly noted, Ms. Conte.” He winks, then squeezes my knee gently. He does not appear to be intimidated at all. Who is this guy? “So I’m wondering, what do you do for a living, Tessa?” And yes, his fingers are definitely still on my knee … and moving upwards. Double uh-oh.
“I own a bakery just a few blocks away. You know, one with cakes, not bread,” I clarify. “We bake custom cakes and desserts for all sorts of occasions. It’s something I really love to do and it keeps me busy. And of course, it keeps the cupcakes handy in times of desperation, so it has its benefits.” Luke laughs at my comment.
“Oh, she’s being modest, Luke,” Clara jumps in. “You should see the cakes she’s made! Trust me, Tessa can work magic with her hands.”
“I’d like to see that someday.” Luke holds my gaze as he says this, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s referring to cakes or whether he has something else in mind. I wouldn’t be completely opposed to finding out what kind of magic he’s thinking about, so I lose myself in my fantasy world for a moment. I seem to do that a lot around Luke.
“How’d you get into that?” Luke’s voice brings me back, his fingers now bordering on the hem of the dress I’m wearing. Oh god, he is really, really close. The rush I’m feeling is something I haven’t felt in a long time. I know that before I’m able to respond, I have to get some focus, clear my mind of the dangerously dirty path it’s starting to take. I can’t possibly think of a coherent response with him touching me. I need to take control of this blood-tingling predicament.
I reach for his hand and move it off my knee, shifting so that there’s a bit more separation between us, so that I can avoid any further attempts of his to get into my panties. This guy … really.
“Just something I always loved to do, you know,” I say after I’ve taken a second to collect my thoughts. “I think it runs in my blood. My nonna – my grandma – taught me. And I guess it just grew into something I wanted to do for a living. I love exploring and letting my creativity guide me. I love being my own boss – it’s exhilarating. And I love that it’s something I’m passionate about, you know?”
“I totally do,” Luke says thoughtfully. “Cheers to exploring and being passionate.”
I’d like it if he explored me passionately. I silently curse myself and the thought that has crawled into my head. Ugh. It’s no use. I’m starting to think I may be in trouble.
After dinner, we walk to a nearby theater. Our collective decision to see the newest Marvel movie means the theater is pretty much packed when we arrive. After charmingly rearranging a few people around, Clara finds a spot for her and Marcus, while Luke and I end up in the worst seats possible: in the last row, in the corner. An unattended seat separates him from the next moviegoer.
The silence creeps around Luke and me in the moments before the movie starts. Unlike the silence in the car, this one is heavy with the intimacy of the darkened theater, heavy with the closeness that we’ve been subjected to over the last couple of hours, heavy with anticipation. I’m not sure if Luke feels it too, but I can sense the sexual tension between us, and I can see it in the way he looks at me almost timidly, yet purposefully. Or maybe I’m just imagining it? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe he really is just uncomfortable sitting next to me.
But that theory is quashed the moment Luke’s hand reaches for mine, for the one that’s resting awkwardly on my knee. His fingers intertwine with mine, and the connection is enough to make me lose composure momentarily. I let out a gasp at the unexpected touch and look over at him, only to find his gaze fixated on the hold he has on my fingers.
As if he registers my confusion, he looks up and shifts toward me so that his lips are nearly touching my ear. Then he whispers, “You look more than nice tonight. You look fucking sexy.” His words stir up a sense of thrill in my tummy. I feel my cheeks blush and am grateful for the darkened room.
If I am being honest, I only vaguely follow the movie. It’s action-packed, and you’d think I’d be immersed in the plot, but no. Not even close. I fail miserably at trying to concentrate on the screen. Instead, what I am definitely immersed in is Luke. I focus on the way he plays with my fingers, the way he traces tiny circles on my palm, the way I feel like he’s going to melt me with his touch. I know that’s not really possible, but the warmth that I feel radiating off his hand is spreading through my already flushed body. It’s as though every nerve, every pore of my skin responds to his touch. All I can seem to think about is how his fingers could do some very naughty things to me. His touch is soft, warm, and beyond stimulating. I have to fight the urge to straddle him and let him explore to his heart’s content. He is making my normally uneventful Friday night spin slightly out of control.
Luke leans in again and whispers, his voice deep and low. “God, Tessa, you smell so fucking good, like strawberries and chocolate. I can’t help but want to taste you.”
Wow. That really is blunt and so very, very arousing.
His fingers tease my composure as they reach higher and higher and find themselves under my dress. Is he really going to do what I think he might? Oh god.
I tense momentarily because – let’s face it – I’m kind of freaking out. I’m freaking out because we’re in a movie theater and are about to do something that is less than socially acceptable in public. I’m freaking out because I think I’m about to let him do one of the wildest things I have ever let anyone do. My immediate reaction is to grab his arm and stop him, just like I did during dinner.
But Luke appears to have an uncanny ability to read my mind. He whispers, “Don’t worry, no one is watching.”
He’s right. The crowd around us is glued to the action on the big screen, oblivious to the action that is happening in the back corner of the theater. And I’m so, so torn! The thought of being worked up by one of the sexiest men I’ve ever met is too tempting to pass on. So my next reaction is to wrap my fingers around his arm and pull him forward, giving him the silent okay. This is so happening.
I gasp as he slides his fingers underneath my panties, because his fingers are right there. Right where I’ve wanted them all night long. He’s purposefully touching that hyper-sensitive spot, the one that is nearly ready to combust. My heart is beating at an exhilarating speed; my body tingles with feverish frenzy.
Tessa, what do you think you’re doing? Oh, look. There it is. My conscience. But what Luke is doing right now makes it really, really hard to consider any kind of logic, to differentiate right from wrong, good from bad. Because right now, bad feels really, really good. So instead of pulling back, like the Tessa I know would normally have done at even the slightest possibility of something spontaneous, I slouch lower, spread my legs wider, and let Luke explore to his heart’s content. He teases me with feather-light touches at first, and when I�
�m nearly mad with want, he rewards me with two fingers. Inside.
“You are so wet.” He leans in and I can almost feel his lips touch my cheek. I can sense he’s staring at me. I can sense he’s wearing a cocky grin; I can see it from the corner of my eye. And he definitely knows what kind of effect he’s having on me. Because right now, in this moment, I am lost in him, in his touch, in his closeness. My throat feels dry as my breathing becomes more rapid. I’m finding it extremely difficult to keep quiet. I may have magic hands, but I’m starting to think Luke has magic fingers.
I should make him stop, Rational Tessa reminds me as she sneaks back into my mind. This is getting dangerous. But being Spontaneous Tessa has its advantages. I could get used to this.
I take a mental scan of the theater and realize that even if anyone were to look over, they would never guess Luke’s fingers are working their magic between my thighs. Then I steal a glance at Luke and notice two things: he appears to be concentrating on the big screen, but the corner of his mouth is tight, like he’s smiling. It makes me wonder whether he’s enjoying our private show more than the movie itself. Sensing my stare, he looks at me and our eyes connect. That same steady, mischievous look that nearly had me undone the first time we met is enough to make me forget about the crowd and the movie. Instead, it’s as if I’m mesmerized, almost in a state of trance. I’m aware of only Luke and the way his fingers are exploring. In and out, massaging, circling my clit, taunting me – it’s like a game, one that has me going wild. He’s evoking a raw need within me, a need that builds and builds and is becoming more intense and difficult to control. I don’t want him to stop, yet I’m not sure how much longer I can last before I completely break apart, before the silent, barely controllable moans become heady, full-on screams. The movie patrons would not likely appreciate those.
And then it happens. My body tenses in anticipation of the orgasm. My fingers dive deep into his bicep, and a lusty moan escapes me as my body gives in.
Well, that was not at all planned. Thankfully my not-so-quiet moan happens just as major action takes place on the screen. Perfect timing. My limbs feel numb. My body’s limp in the seat. God, that felt so good, and it only involved Luke’s fingers. I can’t help but wonder what he could do with his cock. Also his mouth. Both equally enticing.
I’m overwhelmed and lost in the pleasure I just experienced, and shocked at my inability to exert control over what just happened. Then again, I’ve never experienced something as arousing and daring as I have with Luke tonight.
But as soon as my heartbeat returns to normal, I start to, well, think. What was that all about? I can’t help myself – I kind of need to know, otherwise I imagine I’ll end up being a total mess of emotions. I turn toward Luke, my expression pleading, needing answers. But he’s staring at the screen, not registering – or at least pretending not to register – the demanding look on my face. Apparently I will not be getting my answers right now.
When the ending credits start to roll and the darkness that has filled the space lifts, Luke and I make our way out of the theater. His hand reaches for mine and brushes against it like he’s about to hold it, but then he doesn’t. I sense it’s because we’re about to meet up with Clara and Marcus and obviously he doesn’t want to give them any hint about us. That leaves me a little bit confused.
Clara’s grinning excitedly. “So, how did you guys like the movie?” she asks.
“Um, it was good. Yeah, I liked it,” I mumble, because my head is still trying to figure out why his hand is not holding mine. She gives me the look, totally not buying it. “No really, it was great.” I try to sound more convincing. I’m not sure I succeed. Clara knows me too well, knows that I normally go into much more detail and point out specifics of what I like or dislike.
“It was exciting,” Luke says, then smiles as he steals a glance at me. My heart suddenly feels giddy – perhaps there’s hand-holding in the near future after all. I’ve never been known to get so worked up over a guy in the span of a few hours. Then again, I may have already imagined Luke doing a variation of what I experienced with him tonight.
Clara gives him a questioning look. “Oh yeah? What did you find the most exciting?” She’s onto something.
“The climax,” Luke says with a smirk. But he quickly covers up by saying something movie-specific that’s believable enough for Clara’s appraising mind.
On our ride back to my apartment, I can’t shake this eerie feeling. Something isn’t right. In fact, something has definitely shifted. Luke is quiet, distant. He looks the other way, and not even a word is said between us. What is going on? The silence is bearable only because of the music coming from Marcus’s stereo. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever figure out the reason for this sudden change in Luke’s demeanor.
Feelings of unease and doubt start to creep up my spine. What felt so liberating a little while ago is now starting to feel like a chaotic rumble in my orderly world. And it messes with my head. I remember Marcus’s words at dinner and very quickly realize that I’m probably nothing more than another woman Luke was just being adventurous with. And it’s eating away at me. The last thing I want him to think is that I’m that easy. I mean, I have never, ever been so reckless and unguarded with a guy, especially one I just met.
What bothers me even more is that I’m normally the one in control of my interactions with the opposite sex. Well, at least I have been since I got burned by said opposite sex. I hate to admit it, but that’s been a sore spot for close to three years. So when we pull up in front of my apartment building, I feel anything but in control. I am an emotionally charged mess. Ugh! Stupid, stupid Tessa. I should have known better.
“So … I guess I’ll see you later?” I’m going for indifferent, but instead come off hesitant. It may appear as though I’m asking the three of them, but my question is directed only at Luke.
Of course it’s Clara who replies excitedly, “See ya!” but she’s not the person I’m hoping to hear from. All I get from Luke is a confusing ghost of a smile paired with a short, “Later, cupcake,” and that’s it. The same thing he said to me when we parted ways four months ago. That’s all I get from the guy who so unexpectedly turned my Friday night upside down.
I put on a brave face and smile as I wave good-bye, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Meanwhile, I’m just short of fuming. Is he really just a pretentious prick, or am I dumb enough to think there would be more to it than a wild flirt of an evening? For some reason, I let my guard down with Luke tonight, and I’m not sure why. I’m angry and disappointed with myself, and so so so infatuated. Damn Luke and his– ugh, his stupid magic fingers!
I would be lying if I said I didn’t at least anticipate a call from Luke, a text, anything the next day. But instead, there’s a big, blank nothing. No calls, no sign of the person who made me feel so uninhibited and pleasured less than twenty-four hours ago. And the worst thing is I’m not even sure why I care. It’s not like I’ve been craving any kind of relationship. At least not since Jason the Jerk.
Chapter 4
The present
“Come on Tessa, just give me a hint,” Clara begs for the umpteenth time. “Please!” She bats her eyelashes innocently, as if that will somehow melt my resolve.
“Uh-uh. No way!” I shake my head while continuing to frost an elegant three-tiered wedding cake I’m working on for one of my clients.
It’s lunchtime on Friday, and Clara has stopped by Lovely Cakes hoping to get a peek at her cake. Marcus did turn out to be The One. They’re so sure that they’re meant to be, in fact, that they’re getting married next Saturday, after only a six-month engagement. Clara’s been pestering me about the wedding cake the whole time, but there’s no way I’m letting her see anything until the day of the wedding. It’s a surprise, my gift to the happy couple.
“Ugh, you’re no fun!” she scoffs, yet grins adorably at the same time. I know it’s all just pretense. She loves surprises. I kind of hate them. “The one you
’re working on sure looks amazing.” She motions to the cake.
I smile appreciatively. The cake I’m working on is elegant and intricate, but Clara’s is going to be incredible. It’s my sister we’re talking about, after all, and she loves all things grand and glamorous.
“I really hope a day comes when you’ll get to make one of these for you and your Prince Charming.” Here we go. Since I’m not giving in on the cake, she’s going to start harassing me about my relationship status.
“Yeah, that’s not likely to happen. I live in a world of romance, weddings, and cupcakes – a world that is dreamy and deliciously sweet and too good to be true, if you ask me. Hard to live up to those standards.” I’m being sarcastic, but only because I know it’s the sad and sour reality of my existence. I may slightly despise the opposite sex.
“Life is too short to live it through everyone else’s happiness,” Clara criticizes. “Not every guy is like…”
“Just say it.” I know she knows I don’t like to be reminded, but I also know what’s coming.
“Like Jason.”
Right, that guy. The guy I met when I was starting my senior year of college, shortly after my dad died. Looking back, I may have misinterpreted my emotional state at that time and attributed it to something more. After all, what Jason and I had was comfortable, safe. He fit the this-is-how-your-life’s-supposed-to-turn-out plan. Finish school. Meet a guy. Fall in love. Get married. And on and on.
Sure, I was young and naïve and completely infatuated with him. I guess I thought that’s what being in love felt like. On some level, I probably was in love. But then again, I thought and felt a lot of things when I was in my early twenties.
He was the guy I thought I would marry. He was smart and educated, and he liked to plan things out, just like me. But while I planned our happily-ever-after, he had obviously planned his own, without me in it. I was completely blindsided when he decided to move overseas, and yet we’d dated for almost three years. That’s how well I knew the real Jason. Perhaps he wanted more from life than what he thought I was able to give him.