by Helena Rac
“That’s exactly what I had in mind.”
“And now I think we both need a shower. I’m sticky in places I’m not normally after making a batch of icing,” I admit.
“A shower sounds real good right about now.”
I agree. After all, I’m sure Luke will be of great assistance. “Then follow me, stranger,” I say as I break away from him.
“Don’t mind if I do. The view is magnificent.”
And the shower with Luke turns out to be even more so.
After the shower, we finish what we started earlier. We almost inhale the stir-fry once it’s ready, desperately needing to replenish the calories we just burned. When we’re done, we decide to watch a movie, armed with cupcakes and yes, tea. Tonight’s choice – caramel-apple-almond with a hint of cinnamon. Sweet. Spicy. Warm.
“I feel like I’m at a fancy high tea back in London.” Luke smirks, amused by both my offer of tea and by the porcelain cups I chose to serve it in. “Where did these come from?”
“They were my Nan’s,” I clarify, trying to sound cool, even though I may just be a tad overexcited to be using the cups. I’ve only ever pulled these out for special occasions. Which has been – never. Until tonight. “My mom inherited them and passed them onto me when I opened Lovely Cakes. I’ve never met my nan, so it’s kind of nice to have something of hers. A family heirloom.”
“They’re quite unique. And the tea is wonderful, as are the cupcakes. And you.” He says this as he holds my gaze in such a way that I may feel the need to drop the tea-talking business and engage instead in naughty business again. But I keep my composure. For now.
“You’re welcome.” I smile as I take a bite of the cupcake.
When our calories are most definitely at full count (yay!), Luke and I snuggle up on the sofa. His arm is wrapped around my back and his fingers are stroking the sensitive skin just above my tailbone. My fingers find their way underneath his t-shirt and copy his movements. It’s so intimate to have him all to myself, in my own apartment, in my personal space. I catch myself thinking about how much I prefer snuggling with him compared to just snuggling with the sofa-pillows on my own. Interesting observation.
But movie watching with Luke appears to be problematic for me. Whenever I’m around him, I find it difficult to focus on anything but the way his fingers feel on my skin, the way his heart beats underneath my ear, the way his breathing intensifies only minutes into the movie, quite possibly because having me so close has the same effect on him as it does on me. My fingers get greedy and trail lower and lower down that sweet V of his. And find that Mr. Callahan is ready for action. A throaty breath escapes Luke as he turns away from the screen. When I look up, his eyes are searching mine, questioning my intent.
“I think someone may be ready for another round,” I say, stating the obvious.
“I think you’re right.”
“You know, this really is not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“I have yet to sit through this movie uninterrupted,” I pout. I don’t actually care about the movie so much. I might have seen it on the big screen several months ago with Luke by my side. Or at least attempted to see it.
Luke flashes me his crooked grin. “I think you’ve got all the action you need right here, cupcake.”
“That I do.” I smile as his hand reaches for the nape of my neck and he brings my lips toward his. He’s so close that every breath of his becomes mine. Then he kisses me in that signature sweet yet demanding kiss of his. The one I crave every time I’m near him just as much as when we’re apart. The kiss that speaks volumes, that holds all his emotions in it and can last for hours.
The kiss that becomes heated so quickly that we can barely contain ourselves again, our tongues hungry to taste and feel. Our clothes are off in a matter of seconds, and I’m on top of him, straddling him, taking in his thick length. The moment he enters me, I gasp softly, because having him in me like this is so damn stimulating. He’s deeper than I’ve felt him before and as I rock back and forth I feel him everywhere. He cups my bare breasts, and then those magic fingers of his knead them like they’re meant to be played with. My nipples harden and beg him to bring his mouth closer, to suck, to twirl, to bite – and he does just that. He’s nearly making me lose my mind.
I moan, desperate for more. Sugar may take me to a high, but Luke takes me beyond, to a place where only sweet ecstasy exists. And I want to stay there for hours upon hours. I lean my head back and revel in the way he’s making me feel. The chemistry we have is undeniable, pure, intense.
“God, you’re so perfect.” Luke’s roughed-up voice echoes through me, and I bring my head back to look down at him.
Our eyes connect, and I swear I can see in them beyond what his expression is telling me – that he’s completely smitten with me. I close my eyes because what I think I’m seeing petrifies me. But the moment I do, Luke whispers, “Look at me, Tess. I want to see you. I need you to see.”
So I do. Movie forgotten, we focus on each other and on the way we move, on the way the friction we create is so pleasurable I don’t ever want it to end. My mind is devoid of any coherent thoughts other than the feelings that register in my heart and tease my brain. And while the heroes are saving the world in the background, Luke is saving my heart, opening it up to the possibility of more. Of finding that one person who makes my world whole again, and needing that person more than I ever thought I would. As scary as it feels, I somehow feel perfectly content.
“That was … Fuck, Tess.” Luke swallows deep once we’ve both reached our climaxes. “That was…”
“Yeah,” I concur as I try to catch my breath.
He lifts me off the couch and carries me to my bedroom. I’m wrapped in him and don’t protest, not one bit. And he doesn’t let me out of his hold, not even for a second. His arms stay wrapped around me until he places me on the bed, and his eyes stay locked on mine as we lie facing each other.
“I really, really like you, Tess,” Luke whispers sleepily as he kisses me. His breathing levels off, and I assume he’s dozed off to sleep.
I gather the courage to reply, “I really like you too. More than cupcakes.” I’m not sure if he’s heard me, but the way he squeezes me in response, the way a subtle grin appears on his face while his eyes are still closed, means he must have. I am more than okay with that. Really, I am.
I stay up staring at him for a few minutes – at the flawless lines of his face, his jaw, his nose, taking in every pore, every freckle. I take in his content and level breathing as he falls deeper into sleep, and I can’t help but think about how quickly my resolve changed when it came to having Luke stay the night. Here I am, after only a few short days, embracing the very cuddly being next to me. In my own bed.
This bed that will now forever be ruined by Luke’s presence. It will never feel quite the same once he’s gone. Even though I clearly realize that, I decide to hold onto the here and now and push the not-so-distant future into, well, the future. Instead, I tangle myself as tightly as I can with Luke, and sweet sleep comes to me as if I am the most carefree person in the world. If only for tonight.
Chapter 18
I hear my phone ring through my slumber. I move unwillingly, my limbs still numb from the night’s sleep. I manage to untangle my arm from the hold Luke has on me – he’s such a cuddle monster – and reach over to pick up the phone.
“Hello,” I say quietly, hoping not to wake him. I look at the clock – it’s just past seven.
“Hey, sweetie,” my mom says in her too-perky morning voice. It took her a while to get that voice back after Dad died.
“Hi, Mom,” I respond, waking right up. “Is everything okay?” First, I’m genuinely worried, but second, I’m hoping this isn’t going to be one of her long-winded, I-hope-you’re-doing-well-being-twenty-six-and-still-single kind of calls. Those have been happening way too often since Clara got engaged.
“I hope so,” she replies almost hesitantly.
Ug
h. It’s the second, I just know it. Here it goes.
“Honey, I know it hasn’t been easy on you since your dad died, since Jason left,” she says in her nurturing voice, her British accent still noticeable after all these years, “and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, with Clara’s wedding a few days away.” As always, she dives right into it. Typical Mom.
“Gee, Mom, I had no idea Clara was getting married,” is what I feel like saying, but instead go with a less-snooty, “I’m fine, Mom,” reassuring her just like I always do.
The thing is, she never used to be so vigilant. Not that I remember. She was always a free-spirited, easygoing, never-a-worry-in-her-heart kind of mom. Until my dad died. It took her at least a couple of years to get her sense of self back. When she did, it was like she funneled all those emotions into becoming a worry-wart, and I’ve been her primary target. Because – single.
“You say that all the time, Tessa. But I can’t imagine how you can be doing well given your younger sister’s getting married and you’re nowhere close to having someone special in your life, let alone a relationship, sweetie.”
I should just hang up. I can feel the irritation starting to build. She’s concerned, I know, but in my mind it sounds more like she’s criticizing. I close my eyes, try to find my happy place, and hold the line.
Of course, little does she know that, as we are speaking, I’m tangled in the messy yet comforting embrace of a man I thought existed only in romance novels. And that man is becoming more and more special by the minute. If she only knew I was running on a sugar high, my sweetener of choice being Luke, perhaps she wouldn’t be calling at this ungodly hour.
“And you can say you don’t need anyone to make you happy, Tessa,” she continues, “but trust me when I say this.” I know what’s coming next because she’s said it too many times before. “You need someone in your life to feel like you’re whole. I know, because I miss my half every single day.” Her voice trembles just like it does every time she starts to talk about Dad.
Up until now, I’ve always downplayed the two-halves-make-a-whole argument, even though I know how much my dad and mom loved each other. But over these past few days, I’ve started to realize that maybe I wasn’t really whole before I met Luke. Maybe there was always something missing, and I was just never able to pinpoint what it was. Still, I get a tad bit annoyed at having to listen to her go on about her favorite subject over and over.
“Mom, please don’t worry,” I reassure her again, hoping to keep exasperation out of my voice. “I really am fine. Who knows, I may find my Prince Charming sooner rather than later,” I say, then cringe at the thought of Luke overhearing me in his sleep. That would be embarrassing. But, thankfully, he doesn’t even flinch. His hand is protectively resting on my naked chest and his legs are entwined with mine. I catch myself staring at him, at his face, at the way his lips are parted, the way his nose crinkles ever so slightly with each breath, and suddenly I feel sentimental. Before I even consider it fully, “Maybe he’s already found me and I just don’t know it yet,” escapes me in a breathless, adoring voice.
“Oh, Tessa, you don’t have to make up stuff to make me worry less about you.”
And the sentiment I felt a moment ago is gone. Make up stuff? Argh! She can be so irritating. Of course she’s going to think I’m making stuff up. Why would me finding my Prince Charming not be a likely possibility?
As I consider that, I remind myself the reason she thinks that way is because I basically swore off the opposite sex after Jason. Perhaps her assumption is not unreasonable after all.
“I just really wish you would give your heart a try. You need to open it to the possibilities that are out there, honey. You’ve always been a strong, independent woman, but it would be nice to have someone soften you up.”
I’ve heard it all before; I’m pretty sure I’ll hear it again. I just need to end this call so I don’t have to listen to her any longer and so I don’t say something I may regret later.
“Fine, I’ll try.”
“You will?” she asks, and I hear the suspicion in her voice. She must misinterpret my curt answer for something else – a possibility. “Tessa Maria Conte, is there something you’re not telling me?”
Damn it. I forgot how intuitive she can be. Now she’s onto me. I was really hoping to figure out this whole thing with Luke before I have to make it more public. Of course, I don’t have much time to do that. The rehearsal dinner is tonight, and the moment she sees us, she’ll probably know that we’re more than just fellow members of the wedding party. Even if I try, Luke will likely make it impossible for me to appear single, knowing how forward and uninhibited he is.
“No, Mom, there isn’t. I just said I’ll try,” I say matter-of-factly, hoping to convince her.
“Fine, honey, but remember what I said, okay?”
“I will.”
“Okay, sweetie. See you tonight. Love ya.”
“Love you too, Mom.” Of course I do, even after conversations like these. I know she’s only got the best intentions. Still, they can be suffocating sometimes.
I take a deep breath and resolve to go back to my happy place now that the phone call is over. I snuggle up against the warm body next to me, inhaling the scent that makes me tingle all over. It’s funny how, even though I’ve gotten used to sleeping on my own, right now I can’t seem to get enough of the soft–hardness that is Luke. Every time we’re this close, I feel nothing but cared for, safe in his embrace. I sigh contentedly as I close my eyes to catch a few more minutes of rest. But just as I do that, a raspy, flirty voice says, “So, Prince Charming, huh?”
Oh god. He heard me.
I cringe and wonder how much he heard while I try to figure out a response.
“Well,” I feel like something’s stuck in my throat, “figuratively speaking.”
“I think I can be a whole lot more than charming.”
“Oh yeah? How so?” I challenge. I have a feeling being compared to a prince is not something Luke considers flattering.
His reply starts with a kiss, a raw, passionate kiss, as my sweet, loving Prince Charming turns into this primal creature, his eyes dark and lusty.
I struggle to decide which Luke I like better – the charming prince or the tiger on the prowl. It really is a toss-up. I’m smitten with both of them equally. My prince goes on to worship every inch of me like I am his princess. And then devours me as only a tiger would.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” Luke places a lingering kiss on my mouth before heading out for the day. He’s meeting up with Marcus for breakfast and then has a few meetings to attend before we see each other again at the rehearsal dinner tonight.
I close the door behind him and lean against it. I haven’t felt this elated, this hopeful, in a very long time. Maybe never.
Since the whole mess that Jason made of my already fragile heart, I haven’t really dated seriously again. Going down that emotional black hole wasn’t what I would call a pleasant experience; not one I wanted to put myself through again, at least. I guess I just didn’t open myself to the possibility of finding someone with whom I could connect – not only physically, but emotionally too. Not until Luke stumbled into my life.
I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way he does. But beyond the physical attraction, beyond the chemistry that binds us, there’s so much more I like about him. I feel like I’m finally ready to open my nearly healed heart to the possibility of more. To the possibility of love. And that excites me … and scares me. So I’m more than grateful that I’ve got lots to keep me busy today. There’s less likelihood that my meandering thoughts will take me down a path of emotional self-destruction.
I head to Lovely Cakes to work on Clara and Marcus’s wedding cake, among other orders. I’m sure Rose has everything under control, but then again, I like to double check it actually is. My hunch turns out to be correct – things are peachy.
As a matter of fact, I’m on such a high the
entire day that I manage to accomplish almost everything I’d planned before heading home to get ready for the rehearsal. The cake is just about done – only a few finishing touches left, which I plan to wrap up tomorrow morning. What an awesome, kick-ass, productive day.
On my way home, I listen to music with what I can only imagine is a crazy perma-grin stuck to my face. This whatever-it-is Luke and I have feels right. I am so lost in my world, in my head, that I’m oblivious and barely notice my phone ringing as I reach my building.
“Hi, Tessa.”
“Hey, Marcus!” I say cheerfully as I make my way up the elevator. “How are things?”
“Good, good … you know, D-day is almost here.” He laughs nervously, noticeable unease in his voice. “How are things with you?” he asks, but I wish he would cut right to the chase and spare me the small talk. He doesn’t normally call unless it’s something important. Since he and Clara have been dating, he’s called to talk to me directly only a few times, one of which was to tell me he was planning on marrying my sister and another to ask if I would make their wedding cake. So yeah, this is slightly unnerving.
“Same here, D-day is almost here. The cake will be ready, though. Don’t worry.” I chuckle, trying to make things light.
“I’m sure it will, I’m sure it will.” He pauses, and a few seconds of awkward silence fill the air. “Anyways, Tessa, I wanted to talk to you.”
“What about?” I ask, but then it occurs to me almost at the exact time as I ask him the question. Oh. My. God. Is he having second thoughts about it all, about Clara? Please don’t let it be about that. Clara would be devastated, absolutely heartbroken, given her previous relationship disasters. And this time it may just break her for good. Now I’m totally dreading what he’ll say next.
“I’m not sure how to say this, or whether I should say anything at all, but I feel like I need to warn you.”
Warn me? I’m confused by his words and fumble with my keys as I try to unlock the door to my apartment.