by Stacy Lane
I lift my eyes, mouth parted, panting. He runs his thumb across my lip, eyes following as it traces side to side.
I’ve always loved his eyes, but it’s during times like this, when he wants me so desperately they burn like a dark flame, that I want nothing but to feel its heat.
“Save this supple mouth for me later. Right now I want to fuck.”
His words hit me straight downtown. I moan my approval.
Luke brings me to my feet, spinning until I’m back against the cold granite.
He runs his hands appreciatively down my ass and to the backs of my thighs. Bending his knees, he lifts me up and sets me down on the countertop.
Spreading my legs, he fingers the tops of the boots gaping open at my bent knees. “The. Best. Fuck. Me. Boots.”
I use the heels, digging the skinny stiletto in to his bare ass cheeks, to nudge him closer to my entrance.
His fingers explore my center, testing me and finding me wet and ready.
“Fast and hard, Luke,” I beg with a dire need.
“That’s the plan, baby,” he responds, ripping my panties down my legs.
~~~
Nearly an hour later, the tall boots are off and I’m walking around barefoot on polished, dark wood floors. Not wanting to freeze to death in my birthday suit—Luke kept the temperature in his house freaking cold—I ran to his bedroom in search of anything with long sleeves after our amazing counter sex. In the bottom drawer of his dresser I found an Army hoodie and slipped it on.
Prancing around in his sweater, Luke took every advantage of slipping his hands underneath. I could have put panties back on, but really, why would I do that?
He poured me a glass of wine, then went outside on his new back patio to start the grill up. Alone in his kitchen, I stroke my hands up and down the marbled surface of his island counter. And it wasn’t because we just christened it with hot, rough, toe curling sex. Body still revved up from that, but the HGTV style kitchen was giving me an unusual gratification, too.
Caught rubbing down the gray and white granite, Luke’s lips twitch with laughter when he steps inside after opening the sliding glass door.
My lips twitch and salivate over his shirtless chest.
“How do you like your steak cooked?” he asks.
“Medium well.” I lean a hip on the counter. “I’m gonna make a salad. Anything specific you like or don’t like in it?”
“Carrots. I like carrots, just not mixed in with other food.”
My forehead creases.
“Sounds strange, I know. I like to snack on them, but I hate it when it’s in my food.”
“That makes no sense.” Hand on hip, I shake my head, smiling at his carrot complex.
“Yes, it does. Take stew, for example. Carrots are a staple in beef stew, but I hate it,” he says, feeling the need to explain further.
“That’s so strange it’s cute.”
I watch the way his shorts ride low on his narrow hips. The tan skin exposed for my wondering eyes. A trail of dark hair beginning under his belly button and leading to his d—
“Dressing,” I squeak. Clearing my throat, I tease with him some more. “Can I add dressing to the salad or do you have some weird, averse discrimination against dressing being mixed in all at once?”
“Cute, but no. You can mix it all together.”
He keeps staring at me. My eyes continue to dart below his belly button.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he warns.
“Okay,” I reply, leaving my gaze where its been. “You should go now. Grill the steaks.”
Luke steps further inside. His pectorals flexing, skin tightening with each slow, deliberate step my way.
“Lucas Bennett.”
“Did you just use your mom voice on me?” He grins. Still prowling.
“Yes.” I all but stomp my foot with my pout. Because I know I can’t resist him once he’s within reaching distance.
“So damn hot,” he says, stopping right in front of me. Then leaning past me, he grabs the large tongs from the utensil holder in the center of the island. Before turning to walk back outside, he pecks me on the cheek. “Now. Stop hitting on me so I can make your steak, woman.”
He slides the glass door shut. Me and my smiling, flushed face gets back to making our salad.
With our steak and salad, I made baked potatoes. We ate dinner, drank wine, and I had to keep slapping his hand off my thigh during the entire meal. I suggested we sit on the new stools for dinner. He took that as prime opportunity to cop a feel with me close, and barely clothed.
These carefree moments were an addiction. Maybe I cherished them more because they were few and far between when in a long distance relationship.
There was a part of me that liked the separation at times. I’m used to having all the space to myself. And the whole point of sharing your life with another person is to coexist together. In all the years I’ve been alone it has shaped me to bear all the weight, and though I don’t necessitate my life by needing a partner, I like Luke here. I like having a partner to alleviate the high pressures of my life.
I loved it, actually.
I…love him.
I’m in love with Luke.
I watch him with keen eyes as he carries our plates to the sink. Grabbing my wine glass, I gulp down a mouth full of the dry red Pinot.
I try to think of when it happened. That specific moment that changed everything. When did I fall in love with him? What moment lead to this reality?
My mind is flooded with memories—old and new—of all the pieces in time with Luke. When he was the popular guy in town I didn’t care for, to when he became more. He captured my heart one fragment at a time. It remains mine, but it’ll never beat properly without his hold.
Can he love me like I love him? Because I’m pretty sure the kind of love I feel for him nears the insane variety type. You know, the healthy kind of insane. It exists. It has to. Not all of it is bona fide psychotic.
My glass tilts all the way back…and there’s goes my wine.
Luke looks over his shoulder at me. “Wanna watch a movie?”
I de-puff my wine filled cheeks with one giant swallow before answering.
“Mmhmm.” Okay, sort of answering.
He grins, turning back to the dishes. “I think that was a yes. Do you want more wine?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, so that you’ll answer with proper english.”
I bite my lip as I watch the muscles in his back flex with every swipe of rinsing a plate clean. It’s mesmerizing. It’s turning me on. I think I may be drunk. Drunk on him. Drunk in love. Like Beyoncé. Wasn’t there something about a surfboard? And graining on that wood? Oh damn. Now I’m drunk and horny. But if Bey says it, then it must be done.
Hopping down from the bar stool I round the island. He’s finished rinsing the dishes and now loading them into the dish washer. I stand on the other side of the machine, watching as more muscles flex in his arms.
So.
Many.
Muscles.
How could I not be attracted to Luke when he’s just cooked me dinner and put away the dirty dishes?
How could I not appreciate the hard work of building his own home with his own two hands?
How could I not fall for his sweet smile and soft kisses as he opens another bottle of wine and fills my glass?
How have I not fallen sooner?
No, there wasn’t one exact pinpoint in time when I fell for Luke. But there was a key point that lead to it. He’s my best friend.
When life got complicated—and ours has been very high on that scale with teenage pregnancy and brother’s and best friend’s—Luke was there for me. He became my person. We built an enduring friendship. It didn’t mean Della or Gio or Matt was any less of my friends either, but Luke was my person. The attraction, the intimacy—it strengthened our bond.
Too bad I hadn’t realized this six years ago. Instead, I ran away and hurt the both of us. I
admittedly chose a coarse for my own selfish needs. Considering what I deemed selfish was actually to better my daughter’s life, did that make it selfless?
That past couldn’t be changed now, regardless. Even through all the obstacles and a giant hurtle of “what ifs”, all that mattered is that I fell. A perfect life isn’t given to someone. It’s how you choose to handle the imperfect times that makes it your perfect kind of life.
And I choose to love this man in spite of my fears.
Actually, I don’t believe it is much of a choice at this point. I would still be in love with Luke even if I did not welcome it. So I’m choosing to embrace the love.
Sipping from the fresh glass he filled for me, Luke lifts a bottle of beer to his lips and relaxes against the counters across from me. We drink and watch each other with flirty grins. I hop onto the counter where I stand at the other end. His dark eyes graze down my bare legs dangling in front of me. The hoodie rode higher up my thighs.
The alcohol makes me bolder, but it’s also Luke that brings out a brazen side of me. I spread my legs open in invitation.
Eyes drop between my legs. He sets his beer aside and walks over. Stepping between my legs, Luke’s rough hands slide up my thighs to my hips, and underneath the hoodie. He leans into me, resting his head against mine, noses touching.
He smelled like beer and steak sauce and me.
“I like this,” he says with a soft exhale. “You. In my kitchen.”
“The kitchen was fun. We can try the laundry room next.” I wiggle closer, drawing a laugh from him.
“Not what I meant, but sounds like a deal.” Luke squeezes my waist, pulling me in. “Move out here. I want more of this. Cooking together, screwing on every surface we can, and especially you walking around in my clothes with nothing beneath them.”
“Luke, you do realize most of what you just said won’t happen when a kid is here, right?”
“I just want you here.”
I pull back to get a better look of his face. He’s serious, no playful suggestions. All truth and trust.
“It’s not as easy as all that, Luke. My job is in Tampa. I make good money.”
“If you’re worried about money or finding a place to live, then don’t. Move in with me, and we’ll figure out the rest.”
His words spark a flare. Instantly, it burns a bright red, matching my anger before dulling down to agitation and then defensiveness. Those words were all too familiar. A conversation I most recently had with Della.
“Della whispering in your ear again?” I say on a harsh hiss.
“No.”
“So just an odd coincidence that she’s said that very same thing to me not too long ago.”
“Apparently it is, because this has nothing to do with Della. What’s going on with you two? I thought y’all were good.”
I sit straighter. “Yeah. We are. Then I begin noticing how everything she says begins with ‘Luke and I decided.’”
“Liv, I didn’t speak with Della. This is coming from me.” He sets a hand on his chest.
And so do I. To push his away.
Hopping off the counter I walk toward the dining room, my back to Luke.
I’m sure he’s right. But I can’t help but to get defensive when what he’s asking comes closely behind Della asking the same thing. Questions have been nagging at me for a while. I’m in love with this man, but my stomach rolls with insecurity.
“She asked me when I was moving back to Calusa,” I explain. “She went as far as suggesting I give up my entire life in Tampa because you could afford to take care of me.”
“If your not ready to move then just say so, Liv. I’m not asking you do anything like Della suggested. I’m guilty of assuming you would want to move back because your dad is here and he’s sick. And there’s this house I built.” His arms stretch wide. “I want you in this house with me. I want you and Brielle here.”
My chest rises and falls with aggression. “I love your home. But I’ve been on my own for so long, Luke, I don’t think I can ever just let someone take care of me. That’s how I grew up. My dad was all but absent and I had to bum off Della and you and Brady. I never want to be that way again.”
“Still not what I meant, but I get where you’re coming from. I won’t ask you to give up anything you don’t want to. But if we’re doing this, me and you, there are going to be compromises. I hope you can recognize the difference between compromising and giving something up.”
I have to ask…I have to clear my conscience.
“Are you done talking with Della behind my back? No more making decisions for me.” Both hands on my hips, I stare him down.
“I already promised that wouldn’t happen again.”
He’s cleared the air, but nothing feels resolved.
“I can’t shake this feeling. Did…” I let go of a heavy sigh. Pouring every ounce of trust I have in him to tell the truth, I ask, “Did you and Della hook back up? After I left town, before Paul, during Paul, I don’t care when, but did you?”
“Wow. You’re really going there.” Luke takes a step toward me, but stops himself, scrubbing hands up and down his face.
“I’m not asking to pick a fight, Luke. I just need to know. Because maybe you don’t see it, but Della says shit sometimes that leads me to believe she’s harboring feelings for you.”
“Let’s get this straight. Della hasn’t meant anything real to me for over six years,” he enunciates. “Olivia, I have wanted only you longer than you have ever realized. Before Della. Before the Army. I don’t know when you stopped hating me long enough to reciprocate my feelings back then, but for me, I’ve always had them for you. But I was with your best friend and I couldn’t figure out a way to end things with her and have you without hurting you both. Like you just said, she was all you had to rely on. And when you started hanging with us more it was so hard to hide my feelings.”
“You did pretty well. I always thought you hated me.”
“Never.” He comes a little closer. Talking with his arms. “I hated I couldn’t be with you. Then you hooked up with Brady and I was pissed at you. Pissed that you would bring yourself down to the same level as all the other girls hooking up with him. You were too good for him. Hell, you were too good for me. I needed to be more than a simple mechanic at Neilands to deserve you. I didn’t expect you to wait for me, but I had to make something of myself before I could ever try.”
“And then I left and you never knew where I went. We never got to be together because I ran away. But I did that because I watched you and Della facing your futures while I remained stuck.”
“That’s why you left?”
“Yes. I needed to be someone better for my daughter. To have a home. Della wanted to move out, but I knew living with a newborn would ruin our friendship. And you were leaving. I thought you wanted to leave Calusa behind and never return.”
“I didn’t want to turn in to Brady,” he replies with calm honesty.
“You could never be like him,” I reassure with a warm smile.
Luke’s features grow stern. His forehead creases. Holding my breath, I know whatever he’s going to say next will alter everything.
“Liv, I—”
“I love you,” I say in a rush.
“W-what.”
“I’m sorry,” I spit when he freezes and stumbles over his tongue. “I thought you were about to say it and you do everything first and you’re always careful to not say too much in fear that you’ll scare me away and I just wanted to say it first.” Never taking a breath of air, I ramble out everything I’m thinking, letting the final three words trail off in a soft exhale.
“No, I wasn’t, but…God, Olivia.” He closes the distance between us, taking my face in his hands and kissing me desperately. “I love you so much. For so long I’ve been in love with you.”
This was the first time I believed in angels. The heavens opened and all I heard were their beautiful, graceful voices singing a song.
; Tension fell away. Then our clothes fell away.
The worry about him and Della and their past is gone. For now. It’s just him and I and our love for each other.
What starts as christening his dining room table ends in the bedroom. With words and without, we show how much love we have to give.
For me, it’s all I have.
He can take it all. All this time I’ve wanted to find me. To be a better me, a different me, a version that wasn’t the helpless girl I left Calusa as. I searched, and even though I am different and better, I still never felt whole. Until Luke. Now I can confidently say I am the best me I’ve ever been and Luke is a part of that.
Chapter Twenty Two
My head rests in the crook of Luke’s arm when I feel him shift beneath me. The bed depresses and foams back up without his body holding it down. My eyes flicker open, taking a moment to focus in the midnight darkened room. Believing him to be heading to the bathroom I start to close my eyes once more. Only he walks past that door.
With heavy eyes I watch him cross the room. At that moment, a drawn-out, obnoxious banging sounds at the front of the house.
“Luke.” My sleepy voice reaches him before he makes it out. Lifting up on an elbow, I ask, “Is someone here? What time is it?”
“Go back to sleep. I’ll see who it is,” he replies a notch above a whisper.
“Where’s my phone?” I’m fully awake now. “Something could be wrong with Bri.”
“Baby, go back to sleep. I’m sure Bri’s safe at Della’s.”
“Where’s my phone?” I repeat.
She may need me. She’s not used to sleepovers. I’m always down the hall if she wakes up from a nightmare.
The knocking continues to echo throughout the silent house.
“I’ll get your phone.” Luke walks out of the room. I can hear his footfalls down the hall and in to the center of the house. Within a minute he’s back in the room handing my cell over. “No missed calls. I’ll see who’s at the door. Stay in bed.”
Awake, but groggy with interrupted sleep, I catch the strangle in his words. He doesn’t look back as he crosses to the door and out.