by Helena Rac
“Isn’t that sweet.” She’s being sarcastic. I think she may dislike Luke just a bit for how he treated me in the first place.
“I, likewise, didn’t think a car was the place to, you know… I mean, it was a joint decision.” Why do I even bother explaining myself? I would have totally done it in the car if he hadn’t been so conscientious. Fuck his gentleman-ness.
“So does that mean there’s another date?”
I nod. “What can I say? He was pretty convincing. I had no choice but to give in.” I’m a weakling, is what it is. When it comes to Luke, “resolute” doesn’t seem to exist in my vocabulary.
“Of course you didn’t.”
“Rose,” I warn. I’m walking a fine line between being a friend and being a boss.
“Just sayin’. Anyway, when’s the next round?”
“Actually, tonight. I’m meeting him at his dad’s place.”
She gives me a questioning stare.
“His dad’s out of town,” I clarify.
“In that case, sounds like there may be an action-packed night ahead.” She winks playfully.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, especially after last night. I think I’m going to be a nervous wreck the entire day knowing promises were made. The anticipation is killing me already, and I have a full day to get through before seeing Luke again.”
“Tessa, relax.”
“I know, I know. I should probably get my head back out of la-la land and focus on work or I’m going to drive myself crazy.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Rose says. “Or maybe make a list. You know. About how far you’ll let Luke go tonight.”
“Whatever.” I stick my tongue out at her. Although it wouldn’t be a terrible idea.
“I’m just gonna stay out of your way.” She knows just what I need. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Mom. You know me better than that, Rose; you know that work is my life. A guy’s not going to stop me from doing what I enjoy the most.”
I’m not sure that I’ve convinced her. Or myself, for that matter. Because last night, I may have enjoyed kissing slightly more than work. A lot more, actually.
Surprisingly, the day flies by quicker than I anticipated as I keep myself busy with Clara’s wedding cake and customers dropping by to pick up orders or indulge in a tea/dessert combo. It’s not like my mind doesn’t take a few detours. The excitement’s building deep down in my belly; the anticipation’s burning within me. The later in the day it is, the more nervous I get about the night ahead. And this time, it’s not all about seeing Luke again. It’s quite possibly because I haven’t had sex in almost six months. And the last two times were merely attempts to get Luke out of my system. Very futile attempts at that.
The first time was with a guy I met on one of my morning runs. The experience was so forgettable that I can barely remember his name. I think it was Mark. Thoughts of Luke and his magic fingers were re-playing in my head and I needed to figure out how to, well, get him out of my head. So I figured maybe going out with another guy would make it happen.
Mark and I went out on a couple of dates, which were fine, but the sex turned out to be a fucking disaster. Pun intended. The guy was big on words, small on everything else. And it lasted all of a few minutes, barely enough to get me worked up. Of course I faked it, then had to finish the job myself with the help of my four-speed BFF and memories of Luke. After that, I changed my running route for the first time ever and never ran into Mark again.
The second time was a few weeks later, and yet another disaster. This time I really have no clue who the guy was. I might have been slightly drunk. Okay, a lot drunk, which has happened only twice in my entire life. That particular night was the night of my twenty-sixth birthday, just a few days before the Christmas holidays. I normally don’t like the loss of control alcohol creates, so I try to pace myself. But that night was different.
Clara and Rose had made it a point to take me out clubbing to celebrate. Not how I’d planned to spend my night, but they were able to drag me out of my apartment cave, so I just went along with it. My sexual frustration at that point was at its peak, and after celebrating with a few shots, my need for sex only intensified. I wanted nothing else but to put out the fire that Luke’s lingering fingers had set within me. I had a few more drinks, and I think, from the very little I recall of that night, some guy flicked me a sexy look, one thing led to another, and we ended up going at it in the back seat of his car. Terribly cliché.
Just the thought of it makes me cringe. It was so unlike me, and even now I feel painfully embarrassed about being so senseless. It was short, rough, and disappointing; I can’t even remember if I actually climaxed. Which really was the whole point of the exercise – to release the built-up tension. To make things worse, the next day I had to deal with the consequences. One: a major hangover; and two: sheer panic. It was so out of character for me to fuck a complete stranger. Then again, I was under the influence, so I guess it wasn’t surprising that I felt less inhibited than usual. Normally I at least like to get to know the guy enough to make sure he’s not a serial killer. Even though we used protection and I was on the pill, I ended up getting myself tested for everything under the sun that same morning. I was glad that I didn’t have to deal with any undesirable long-term consequences and certain that I would never do anything like that again.
Of course, I blame Luke for all of it. For how sexy he is, for my frustration, for the incompetence of any other guy. If it wasn’t for him and our fateful encounters, I would have been fine. Peachy, even. I would have just done what I always do and gone on with my life as before – met a guy, went on a couple of dates, released my sexual tension, and then cut all ties. “Break, detach, run” – that was my mantra during the pre-Luke era, ever since Jason the Jerk turned me off relationships. But Luke’s captivating grin, his beautiful eyes, and his skilled fingers fucking ruined me.
I have endured this constant battle, trying to decide if I was angry at him, if I despised him, or if I was bewitched. I think I finally figured it out last night: definitely bewitched. The promise of more than a kiss, the anticipation of finally being able to quench my thirst for Luke, has my body quivering. Yup, I’m literally aquiver as I think of all the naughty things we could do, all those things that only my imagination has allowed me to indulge in so far. I’m positive I need no list to help me decide how far to go tonight. I am going all the way.
Chapter 12
These dates with Luke are going to be the end of me. Here I am, yet again, obsessing over what I should wear for our date. I want to make sure it’s just right, especially after the unspoken promises that were made in the car last night. I have chosen lacy black lingerie that accentuates my rather full breasts, naturally. After changing my outfit three times, I’ve finally settled on a sleeveless, deep-eggplant cocktail dress that defines my curves. I take one last look in the mirror, satisfied with the final product and momentarily dazzled by the gems in my earrings, before I head out of my apartment wearing my favorite pair of ankle-strap stilettos.
My stomach is in knots with cautious excitement. It’s not like me to be so emotionally invested in what is officially only a second date. I’m confused by whatever it is I’m feeling. It can’t possibly be love, of course, so it must be an intense form of like, with a heavy dose of lust. I decide to let myself embrace this side of Tessa, one I haven’t seen in ages, and take it one step at a time. At some point, I figure, things will just fall into place and it will all make sense. At least that’s what I tell myself.
As the cab pulls up in front of the condo, I notice Luke is waiting for me outside the building. I ogle him for a moment, secretly spying on him. The top two buttons of his dark-gray shirt are undone, and my immediate thought is how much I want to taste the skin that’s exposed there. Or the skin further below. Or his cock.
Our eyes connect, and from the way he smiles I bet he’s thinking of how much he’d like a bite of me. He walks up and pa
ys the cab driver, then takes my hand and twirls me around. And I giggle like a schoolgirl.
“God, Tess,” is all he says, and seconds later his lips are on mine. My head swirls and my knees weaken. I’m fuzzy and warm and gooey. And when the kiss is over, I want to push rewind and play again. Over and over. I want this man, this sexy creature, whose pheromones do crazy things to me. Control, Conte! Dinner first. Then dessert.
Luke’s dad’s condo is quite the space. The first thing I notice is the beautiful view of Lake Michigan through the massive windows. The second thing I notice is that there are two bedrooms, which is a relief. The place is modern, minimalist, almost sterile. I think his dad and I would get along.
“Wow, your dad’s place is so clean.” I say the first thing that pops in my mind.
“Yeah, he likes to keep it that way.” I can’t tell if Luke thinks that’s good or bad. I wonder what kind of place Luke has in London and whether he’s inherited his dad’s cleanliness trait. “He’s a retired doctor.”
“Oh, I see. When did he retire?” I ask out of courtesy, but the way Luke is looking at me, I have a feeling talking about his dad’s career is the last thing he wants to do right now.
“A few years ago. He lived here mainly when he worked at Northwestern Memorial. Now he spends most of his time at his cottage.”
“Having a condo must have been convenient and probably something he…”
Luke interrupts my rambling with a simple, “Come here,” as he grabs me by my hand from behind and twirls my body toward his. “I don’t want to seem impolite, but I’d rather talk about you and me then my dad tonight. And I’d much rather do this,” he says as he cups my cheeks and kisses me. I’d much rather be doing this too. He tastes sweet like sugar. My personal dose of calories.
“Okay, Callaghan, you need to control yourself,” Luke mutters to himself when he breaks away. “I think we better get to our dinner before I completely lose it and have you instead.”
I don’t tell him I wouldn’t complain.
The table is set and the aroma coming from the kitchen is intoxicating. “I’m starving,” I say. My stomach is in fact growling. I realize I’ve barely eaten today. Instead, the nerves ate away at me all day long.
“Then let’s dig in.” Luke places pan-fried fish, steamed vegetables, and roasted potatoes on the table.
“Wow. This looks amazing.”
“I thought you might like fish.” He clearly took notes from our dinner yesterday.
“I do. Did you make this?” I point to the vast display.
“I most certainly did.”
“I have to admit, that’s impressive. When did you learn to cook like this?” Being that I’m a professionally trained pastry chef, my culinary standards are slightly higher than that of the average crowd. I’m glad he can put together more than grilled cheese.
“It’s just something I had to learn when my mom left. Dad wasn’t a great cook, so I kind of took it on. Otherwise, I think I would have likely grown up on Happy Meals.” He chuckles. “But I enjoy it, so it’s all good.”
He can cook. Definitely a plus. When I take a bite, I find out just how good his cooking skills actually are. I’m in love. With the food I’m tasting, that is.
“This is delicious.”
“Thank you.”
“No really, I’m more than impressed. You get cupcake points for this.”
He laughs. “Cupcake points?”
I nod as I take a bite. I’m nearly moaning it’s so good.
“Good thing, I assume.”
“Very.” I take another bite, and this time I actually moan.
“You can’t be doing that.”
“Hmm?”
“The moaning. It’s kind of distracting.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I meant distracting in that I may not be able to finish my dinner because I’d rather have you.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to take a bite.”
“I told you, I’m trying to be a gentleman.” I make a pouty face, and he laughs. “Don’t worry. I’m definitely going to take a bite. Just … later.”
“I’ll take you up on that offer.” I raise my glass, and we clink our glasses together. “To later.”
“To later,” he repeats.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, with only quiet music playing in the background. I normally hate the silence, but this is nice. Intimate.
I sense Luke’s eyes on me, watching every bite, every movement of my lips. He really is obsessed with my lips. Not that I mind.
“What’s up, stranger?” I look up at him, wondering what he’s thinking.
“I’d really like to get to know you better, Tess. I know we shared a lot last night at dinner, but I want more.”
“I’d like that.” When what I’m really thinking is, “I want more too.”
“But this time, let’s make it more fun.”
“Okay.”
“First kiss?” Luke asks.
Oh, that kind of fun. I’ll play. “Grade eight dance. Just a boy, nothing special. A bit sloppy, if I recall correctly.” Luke laughs. “Yours?” I ask.
“The girl next door, when I was ten or so. It was nice, but nothing special. Best kiss?”
“Hey, I thought it was my turn,” I protest. I was really hoping not to have to go there.
“It’s basically the same question, so still my turn.”
God, this is so embarrassing. “Yours,” I whisper, and look down, picking at my nails. I can’t bring myself to ask him the same question. I worry my kiss, us making out, will fail in comparison to his prior experiences.
He leans across the table and brings my chin up. I look up to see his eyes full of amusement. It’s like he can read my mind and knows exactly what I want to know but am too afraid to ask. He brings his lips closer to mine, but before he moves closer, he brushes his finger across my bottom lip and whispers, “Yours … only yours,” then plants that “best kiss” on my mouth.
As if he could be any more perfect. Honestly.
“Definitely,” I breathe when he pulls away.
“Definitely,” he confirms and smiles back.
“Okay, my turn now. Your first time?”
“When I was fourteen. My grade nine welcome.”
“Ew, that’s kind of gross. Was it any good at least?”
“Back then, yes. She was a couple of years older. More experienced. Looking back on it now – nope. Not even close to the experiences after her.”
Shit, now I am really worried that I won’t be up to par. If we do it. No, when – because it’s happening.
“How about you?” he asks.
“I was twenty-one. Late bloomer. I guess I always thought that I needed to be in love when I first did it.”
“Were you?”
“What?”
“In love?”
“I thought so back then. I’m not so sure now.” I’m so torn as to whether I should share more with Luke. I want to tell him, but I don’t want Luke to think I still have feelings for Jason. I’m certain I don’t. Not the love kind, anyway. “Your turn to ask,” I prompt. If I’m lucky, he’ll think of something easy to ask and I’ll have a few more minutes to decide how much more I should divulge.
“Last time?” he asks.
“Just over six months ago, on my birthday,” I admit. “It was kind of embarrassing, though. I was drunk. Only for the second time in my life, however.” Of course I neglect to say why I was drunk in the first place and that the reason for my sexual frustration was him. “You?”
“It’s been several months. Longest drought ever,” he jokes, and I smile because I can’t believe it’s been so long. He doesn’t strike me as the type to not have casual sex.
“How come?” I can’t help but wonder – hope, even – that it just may be because of me.
He looks at me with eyes that undress me. “Some brunette’s got my cock wound up so hard, I’ve barely been able to focus
on anything but her.”
Huh. Had I known this months ago, it would have spared both of us a lot of headaches.
“Well, that’s good to know.” I think my smile must be the size of a watermelon slice. But I don’t probe further because I’m still not sure how to respond to that revelation. “Moving on, then: longest relationship?” I really want to know if there’s been a Jason equivalent in Luke’s life.
“You really want to know?” I nod. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a serious relationship.”
Uh-oh. “Oh. That sounds somewhat non-committal.” Who the heck am I getting myself involved with? A player, my conscience reminds me.
“I know what it sounds like, but it’s not like that. Really. It’s not that I didn’t try. Things have just never seemed to work out, for whatever reason. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. And I wasn’t always the one breaking things off. But I’ve never had my heart broken, if that’s what you really want to know.”
That is exactly what I wanted to know, but his answer is troubling. On the one hand, I’m glad, because that means there’s no other woman in his life that he may still have feelings for. On the other hand, it’s disconcerting, because let’s face it: he may not be a player, but he might as well be. If he’s never had his heart broken, how will I ever know if he’s serious enough about me? Would he be willing to put his heart on the line for us? I guess I should look in the mirror. I might as well ask myself the same question, and yet my heart was broken once.
“It is,” I say, still not sure how I feel about his response.
“How about you?” he asks.