Sweet Bliss

by Helena Rac

  But Luke’s gaze is serious. There’s affection there, and fear. “When my mom left,” he says, “it messed with my head. I was thirteen, and I know that was such a long time ago, but at the time it really hurt.”

  I knew there was more to his feelings after he brushed them off so indifferently during our first date, and even more so after our talk over lunch yesterday. And I’m already feeling sorry for the thirteen-year-old Luke before he even gets to explaining this further.

  “My dad used to remind me that if you love something enough and it’s meant to be, it will come back. So I thought eventually she would, but she didn’t. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t love me the way I loved her. I mean, she’s my mom. And what I couldn’t understand even more was how my dad was just able to let her go and not fight for her. Why he wouldn’t have gone after her. He just shut down; never expressed any anger, never talked about it. He just kept it all in, hoping she’d come back to him. He was so loyal to her, yet she exploited that loyalty by running off with some investment banker and moving away. I remember being so angry with her, yet I couldn’t help but wonder if the reason she took off had anything to do with me.”

  “I’m sure that wasn’t the case.” I try to rationalize his comment. There must have been another reason. Parents don’t just do that, do they?

  “I realized that several years later, but by then the damage was done. I never could quite figure out, though, how she could have been so selfish. She cared about herself more than she cared about me, more than she cared about my dad. I would never want to put anyone in the situation she put me in. I would never want to disappoint someone like that.” It’s like he’s trying to tell me he would never do that to me, even though he’s leaving in a few days. “And I’d never want to put myself into a situation where I would feel again how I felt when she left.”

  That’s a lot to absorb, but I have an urge to comfort him. “Thank you for sharing this with me, because I know it’s not an easy thing to talk about. I mean, I know how difficult that experience must have been for you.” He’s shared a part of a very personal history with me, so I feel like I should tell him at least a bit about mine. “I lost my dad too, only under very different circumstances. And I was much older. I was in my early twenties when I found him lying lifeless in his office. He’d suffered a heart attack, I found out later, and it was devastating. I felt so hopeless, so scared and lost. I called 911 and realized there was nothing else I could do to bring him back. It hurt so much to lose him and to realize that I would never see him again, never hug him or say good-bye. And that he never had a chance to say good-bye either. It hurt for a long time.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, Tess,” Luke whispers, and he kisses my forehead. “I’m also sorry for hurting you. It was never my intention.”

  “Hurting me?”

  “That night, after the movie, I was a total ass. I knew it and hated myself for it I hated the fact that I left without talking to you again after. I was pretty sure that you would despise me for what I did, and I did nothing to fix it. And I couldn’t quite figure out why it bothered me so much. I cared about how you’d feel after, even though I barely knew you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re past it now. I’m fine. I’m more than fine.” Sure, it was something I lost sleep over and wanted to inflict sweet revenge on him for, but that was before I got to know him better.

  He shakes his head, then continues. “I wondered countless times what would have happened had I not left for London. When things worked out between Marcus and Clara, I knew there was another chance – a chance to get to know you, for you to get to know me, for me to apologize. I just … I wanted to make it right this time around.”

  “You are making it right.”

  “Maybe so. But I had no idea where you stood when I saw you Friday night. You really threw me for a loop.” He chuckles.

  “That was kind of the intent.” I smile. My Evil, Kick-Ass Plan may not have worked out as intended, but I like this alternate ending – or, I hope, beginning.

  “When you left me on that rooftop, I thought to myself, Luke, you fucking deserve it. I couldn’t stop thinking about you Friday night. I could barely sleep.” If he only knew how little sleep I got that night too. “When I woke up Saturday, I knew I wasn’t ready to let you go without at least trying to get you back. I have this weird feeling that you could be my forever.”

  He looks at me with adoration and lust and something more, something I can’t quite decipher. His eyes have this intensity about them, and I get lost in them for a minute, like I’ve done too many times before. His forever?

  “You probably think it’s crazy, but all I’m asking of you is to take a chance with me, take the leap.”

  He’s right – I do think it’s crazy. I know it’s only been a few days; I know I’ve been back and forth on this a lot, but for some just-as-crazy reason, I also feel like I’m ready for that leap. I’m ready to jump all the way. I’m almost certain he’ll be there to catch me.

  “I will.”

  I say it, but words are just words. Actions matter. Rather than explaining myself further, I show him that I will try to keep an open mind and an open heart. I kiss him until I feel him surrender to my mouth. He returns my kiss with the tenderness and affection mixed with passion that is all Luke, that perfect combination that always has me feeling weak in my knees. I stroke his cheek and he does the same. I mess with his hair and he runs his fingers through mine. We mirror each other’s movements as if he is my reflection and I am his. Like we’re pieces of one. No one else exists. Just us.

  When I pull away, I look at him and hope he can read in my eyes what I’m feeling, more than I can say with words. I nuzzle my nose against his, then bring my lips down to his chest and kiss him right where his heart is. I know it’s been years since his mom left, and though I realize he’s past it now and probably has been for several years, it must have left an impact. I can only imagine that deep down he probably fears he may experience that disappointment again. I want to show him I get him and that I’ll do whatever I can to help him believe in happily-ever-after again.

  But will I believe it too? Up until now, I didn’t even think it was possible.

  I’d like to think that I’ll never run again, but I’m reminded that my actions are perhaps promising more than my own heart can handle. I haven’t been in a committed relationship since Jason, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to fully commit this time around, even though I’d like to think I will.

  I bailed on Luke once already and promised him I’d never do it again. If I’m going to hold myself to that promise, it will require the strength of both my heart and my mind. If that’s the case, I need to start acting like it now. I need to show him I do want to give us a try. Enough with the indecision, enough with wavering. Put it down on paper once and for all, Tessa.

  “It sucks a little less now.” Luke smiles softly.

  “Whew. What a relief,” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood. “I was worried we may need to consider another form of intervention.”

  He laughs, then wraps his arms around me, and my cheek nuzzles his chest. He squeezes me so tight that he nearly takes all the air out of my lungs. Then he kisses me tenderly on my forehead. We lay entangled with each other, taking in the beauty of the moment, forgetting for a while about all that lies ahead in just a few short days.

  Chapter 17

  Here’s the thing: Last night, after our encounter, I was certain asking Luke to stay the night would have been too rash. But after today and the revelations at the beach, I’ve come full circle. This is what I want. And there’s no reason to wait. In fact, time is our worst enemy.

  So when we’re at my apartment building and I ask him, “Do you want to come in?” I think he’s taken aback. But from the spark in his eyes, I also think he’s positively giddy. And probably beyond horny. We’ve spent a whole day together. We did a lot of teasing and touching on the boat, at the beach, and in the water, but
we haven’t had a chance to do anything else about it. We’ve been so close for hours, yet not nearly close enough. I can’t be certain how he interprets my question, but I’m definitely certain what I mean by it and what my intentions are.

  I want him. I want to feel his skin on mine; I want to feel his lips on me; I want to feel him in me. I want us to have naughty, naughty sex in my bed and stay tangled together the entire night. And this time I’m not running. No middle-of-the-night sneaking out. I really have no choice, actually – running out of my own apartment would be kind of, well, odd.

  “I think you know the answer.” Luke smirks. Oh, I do.

  Unlike Clara’s loft, every single thing I own in my apartment has its place. Logically organized, clean, purposeful. Creative elegance with modern décor, yet somehow still cozy. I like that things have their place; I’ve really enjoyed meticulously putting it all together so that it looks like a picture from a magazine.

  “Well, now that I’m finally past the doorway, I have to say your place is pretty spectacular,” Luke comments, taking it all in.

  “You like it?”

  “Are you kidding me? This is just like out of a magazine.” Maybe he is able to read my mind.

  “It’s not too showy?” I ask, although by now I should know that Luke says it like it is.

  “It’s perfectly you.”

  I kind of want to grab him and kiss the breath out of him, but I don’t want to come across as completely uncontrollable. “Let’s get dinner ready,” I suggest, even though all I can think about is how much I’d rather just have Luke instead. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “Why don’t I take care of dinner, you take care of dessert?” he suggests.

  “That sounds like a great idea.” Or a really terrible idea, because the second he suggests dessert, I can’t think of anything but how much I enjoyed his rain-check visit last night. I’d rather just have dessert. And by dessert, I mean Luke.

  Self-control, Tess.

  Luke prepares vegetables for a stir-fry while I work on cupcakes, of course. He sneaks in glances, kisses, tickles, and caresses whenever he gets a chance. And I do the same, even though displays of affection are not normally my thing. But I can’t help it. Luke is making my lady parts very aware of his presence.

  He puts the pot of water on for the noodles just as I get the cupcakes in the oven. Next task: strawberry icing.

  Luke is hovering over me, waiting for the water to boil while I add the ingredients for the icing to the mixer. He’s being helpful and it’s sweet, but from the feeling of his erection against my behind, I think he’s got his mind on something more than just dinner.

  “Luke?” I ask when the pink icing is just about right.

  “Tess?” he whispers against my ear, so that I feel his breath on my skin. I think he’s doing it on purpose. I like that he’s doing it on purpose. I also think he knows how he affects me and is testing my composure.

  But I’m not begging. Nope. Though I’m becoming really quite impatient. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to control my craving.

  Then an idea comes to mind. Maybe I’ll get to try the dessert before dinner is served after all.

  “Would you like to taste some?” I ask as I dip my finger into the icing. I turn and wiggle my finger in front of Luke’s lips. He tries to go after it, but rather than letting him lick it, I bring the finger to my mouth instead. I suck the icing, then lick my finger like I’d rather be licking something else. I know its driving him crazy; I see his eyes darken and feel him twitch just below my belly button in response.

  “Fuck, Tess, you’re too tempting for words,” he growls. “I don’t think I can wait for the cupcakes. I need a taste. Please.”

  Who’s begging now?

  He grabs my hand and dips my finger into the icing again. He brings it to his mouth, sucking slowly, purposefully. My breath hitches and I feel goose bumps on my arms the second his tongue encircles my finger. I am so aroused by the thought of what his tongue could do to me, all over me. I may have imagined that a few times.

  One kiss leads to another, and then we forget all about the cupcakes in the oven and instead think of only the icing. And sex. Naughty icing sex. At least that’s what I’m thinking about.

  “I want to spread this all over you, then lick it off.”

  Oh, good god. That’s definitely what he’s thinking about. Glad we’re on the same page.

  Luke grabs the bowl as we stumble to my bedroom. I’m not sure who’s more impatient, him or me, but by the time we get to my bed, we’ve left a trail of clothes crumbs on the floor behind.

  He lays me gently on the bed, and I am spread for his decorating enjoyment as he towers above me. I’m practically salivating at the sight. Just thinking about what he’s going to do is taking over every comprehensible thought in my mind and is turning it to pure mush. I’m so high on anticipation, I can barely think straight.

  Luke dips his finger in the bowl of icing and brings it to my mouth, offering a taste. Gladly. I lick and suck on it, teasing the tip with my tongue. He stills and groans, and I can’t help but giggle. Not because his reaction is funny – quite the opposite. It’s sexy and arousing, and I feel like sucking a lot more than his finger. But I also know what I’m doing to him is torture.

  “Is that funny?”

  I nod.

  He grins mischievously like he’s ready to retaliate. In a really, really good way. This time, he takes the spatula from the bowl and trails it down from my collarbone to my breasts. He spreads icing on each of my nipples, and when he’s done decorating, he smiles wickedly, as if proud of his work. Then he brings his mouth to one breast, and his tongue does all sorts of wicked things to it while his hand cups the other, kneading it. What he’s doing to me is nothing short of erotic, yet so sweet. And not funny at all. With every taste he takes, my body trembles; with every suck, I beg for more. It’s definitely torture. The most delightful kind.

  “Still funny?”

  I shake my head and mouth a barely audible, “No.”

  “Good. Because what I plan on doing to you next is not funny at all.”

  He dips the spatula again and trails it down my abdomen. His lips follow the path, kissing, licking, making my skin tingle. When the spatula finally reaches my throbbing clit, the icing feels cool. But the light spanking that follows brings the heat right back. Once. Twice. Holy shit.

  “Ah,” I cry out, squirming. I think I may have orgasmed a little just now. The connection of his mouth that follows nearly wrecks me. His lips devour me, his tongue teases me. “God, Luke,” I whisper, and I run my fingers through his hair, lost in the sensations melting my brain.

  “So sweet,” he growls in between the licks and sucks, his voice raspy, his eyes crazed with desire.

  “Please don’t stop.”

  “I’m not nearly done with you,” he breathes. “I want to feel you when you break apart for me.” He shifts up so that he hovers above me and brings his cock between my trembling legs. He teases me with it, stroking up and down my pussy, and I moan, writhing against the tip, anticipating the moment that is imminent. When he thrusts deep inside me, I cry out. He’s so hard it’s almost painful. But the pleasure that follows is beyond heavenly. His strokes are intense and fast, like he’s delirious with the need to have me, like all control has left him. I’m nearly breathless and equally wild with need. And just when I think he’s about to come apart, he finds the control that he’s been chasing. He takes a moment to steady his breath. The way he’s looking at me, with eyes full of such intense emotion, is paralyzing.

  “What are you doing to me?” he whispers, like he’s completely lost. What is he doing to me? To my heart?

  He doesn’t wait for an answer – I think he may be too afraid of what I’ll say. And I’m too afraid to voice it. Instead, his mouth finds mine and drowns all reason. It’s passion and lust and sweet affection as our eyes close and our bodies continue where we left off. But this time, the
motion is slow, his strokes purposeful. I wrap my legs around his waist and tighten around him, feeling every inch of his length. I can’t help but lose myself completely in him, in us, in the way we fit.

  “God, this feels so good,” I moan, urging him to go deeper.

  “You feel better than good, Tess.”

  Somewhere in the background I hear what I assume is the oven beeping, indicating the cupcakes are ready, but I’m not in any state to process it. Any other time I would jump up and get the cupcakes. Then again, any other time I would not be in the middle of being devoured by the sexy stranger I’ve fantasized about for months. Right now I’m focused on nothing but him, logic forgotten. Pure pleasure, sweet oblivion, and a mind-blowing orgasm that leaves me utterly spent and limp – those are the only things my mind’s able to process.

  Luke finds his release moments after I do and crashes down on me. His body feels relaxed, and his breath warms my skin.

  The oven timer beeps again and startles me from the sugar rush I’ve just been subjected to. “Shit, cupcakes!” I shout, then push him off of me as I scurry off the bed and toward the kitchen. I hear Luke laughing behind me, and I can’t help but laugh too.

  When the cupcakes are out of the oven, I feel like I can breathe again. They appear to be edible, despite being slightly overdone. They’d never make it past the garbage bin at Lovely Cakes. The water that Luke had on the stove for the noodles has nearly evaporated. As I shut it off, I startle because Luke grabs me from behind and nuzzles his nose in my hair.

  “Jesus, you scared me!”

  He just laughs and teases, “Are you trying to burn down the place?”

  “That was not my intent.”

  “Then what was your intent?”

  “To have naughty icing sex with you.” I turn around to place a kiss on his lips.