Shaking my head, I finally leave the bathroom—only to find myself in a veritable downpour. Thanks, Mother Nature. Way to put the fire out on my heated loins.
It’s a quick dash back to the tents, but it doesn’t matter—I am completely soaked. When it rains in Oregon, it rains. Oh, shit, my sleeping bag! It’s still draped over the back of the truck. Ah, forget it. It probably still smells like dog poop, anyways. I’ll just—
Trip over something on the ground and land face first into the mud.
I lie there for a couple of minutes, tasting dirt and blood. Devo. The dog cursed me, or something. I slowly lift myself up and look back to see what I tripped over. Oh, look at that. It’s the stake the creature’s leash was attached to. Perfect.
Eventually, I get to my feet. I grab my fallen flashlight and bag, and walk slowly over to the tent I’m sharing with Luke. There’s a soft glow coming from the inside, so I know he’s in there. Hopefully he’s already asleep and only left the light on as a courtesy to me.
Just in case, I try to be as quiet as possible unzipping the tent, and stepping inside. The light is coming from a lantern hanging from a hook on the ceiling of the tent. It’s glowing dimly, just illuminating Luke lying on top of his sleeping bag, arms crossed behind his head. His eyes are closed and he’s got his earbuds in, plugged into the phone resting on his chest.
The tent is much too small. Drips of water from my clothes hit his leg, and his eyes open. He props himself up on his elbows, taking in my soggy appearance. “What the hell happened to you?” he greets me, popping his earbuds out.
“It’s raining.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Luke says. Big fat drops pelt the outside of the tent, making quite a racket. He reaches for his bag and rummages through it, pulling out a towel which he tosses to me.
“Thanks.”
Shivering, I turn my back to him and wipe the mud from my face and hands. My fluffy pajamas are a lost cause. I need to change my clothes before I get the whole floor of the tent wet.
Guess what I find when I unzip my bag? The contents of it are covered in greasy white lotion from the now broken bottle of sunscreen that I had carelessly tossed in there with my clothes. The bottle had been full…and now it’s completely empty.
I’m laughing on the inside, really.
“What’s wrong?” Luke asks from behind me.
Wordlessly, I hold up the empty sunscreen container, and show him my open bag. Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Poor Andi. You’re not having the best day, are you?”
“That,” I growl, “is an understatement.”
Still grinning, he sits all the way up. I watch silently as he shrugs out of the unbuttoned long-sleeved flannel he’s wearing over his t-shirt. He hands it over to me and I accept it gratefully. What else am I gonna do—stay cold and wet and prudish? “Don’t look,” I say menacingly. I turn the lantern off for good measure, and the tent is immediately immersed in darkness and shadows.
There’s just enough light coming from the nearby bathrooms to help me get changed. I quickly strip out of my shirt. I debate for a second on the wet bra—but it’s silly to leave it on, so I take that off, too. I quickly put on the shirt, trying not to notice that it smells strongly of Luke, and is still warm with his body heat. I have to take my time buttoning it up because my fingers are shaking. From the cold. I shimmy out of my soggy pants and toss it in the corner of the tent.
I face Luke once again. My eyes immediately find his in the dark. He never turned around. My breath hitches. His face is cloaked in shadows, but I can feel the heat of his gaze. It pierces my skin and warms me in a way the fire couldn’t. My heart thrums erratically in my chest, and I suddenly and deeply regret taking off my bra.
“You were supposed to turn around,” I say in what was supposed to be a stern tone of voice. But the words come out all breathy and slutty.
“I know.” Luke’s tone matches mine, and his eyes slowly travel down my body.
It’s not like he can see much in the dark, and the flannel covers me like a fairly modest dress. But it’s his shirt, and he knows what I don’t have under it because he saw me take it off. I can hear my pulse beating in my ears. Is that normal? Shit.
I stand there stiffly, trying to figure out what to do with myself. The rain continues to beat down around us, intensifying the smoky fragrance left over from the camp fire, and the clean scent of Luke’s soap. Mostly, though, it smells like sunscreen.
“I’m not sleeping with you!” I suddenly shout into the heavy silence.
I expect Luke to laugh, or smirk at me—or something. But his mouth remains unsmiling as he looks at me. “Yeah, you are,” he counters. “There’s only one sleeping bag.”
Damn it! I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not gonna be a gentleman and let me have it?”
Now he laughs. “Not a chance, Tiger.”
He unzips the bag halfway and gets into it, resting on his side. Then he looks over at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
“You must be joking,” I snap, while the proverbial butterflies erupt in my stomach. “There’s no way we can both fit in there.”
“Trust me, Andi.” His voice is low and smoky. “I’ll make us fit.”
Oh, ha. He thinks it’s going to be that easy, does he? Well, I haven’t gone two years of no sexual contact without learning a few things.
I crawl into the sleeping bag, using my bony elbows and knees to their fullest advantage. Luke flinches when I come uncomfortably close to kneeing him in a sensitive spot. His grunt of pain is satisfying, but I quickly realize that being trapped against his warm solid body is having a very profound effect on me. And by profound, I mean that I am so turned on I can barely see straight. It doesn’t help that my squirming causes my borrowed to shirt ride up almost to my waist. Everywhere we touch is electrifying. I reflexively clamp my thighs together, suddenly aware of a throbbing emptiness inside of me. Why does he have to smell so good? Why couldn’t he smell like dead fish? And be all clammy and shit.
My plan continues to backfire as my hair gets caught in something. Luke’s watch. I try to jerk away, my eyes watering from the sudden stinging pain in my scalp.
“Will you stop moving?” Luke growls through his teeth.
I give a tiny shriek as he carefully moves over me, lying half on top of me, and pinning me down with his weight. He reaches over my head to unlatch his watch.
I watch him like a snared bird, chest heaving while waiting to see what happens next. His face is so close to mine, I could lick his chin. His brow furrows in concentration as he gently frees the tangled strands of hair. The pulling sensation is suddenly gone.
“Better?” Luke murmurs, his eyes finding mine in the dark. The gold in them seems to shimmer like starlight.
“I don’t know,” I reply breathlessly.
I want his lips to curve into that playful smile. I want him to make some kind of dirty joke about our predicament. The way he’s looking at me right now, like he's starving, and I’m a five course meal—it thrills me, and it scares me to death. I feel helpless to stop whatever happens next. Not in a rape-y way. Not at all. In fact, just his close proximity is almost enough to send me over the edge. And I’m a very hard girl to please—just ask Bran. Or, don’t. That’d probably be too much information.
Luke's piercing gaze leaves my face, and travels down my body. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I can see well enough—which means he can, too. I watch, hypnotized, as his rough palm glides over my hip, fingers trailing along the lace edges of my underwear. There is an expression of fierce concentration on his face, and he touches me like I’m something exquisitely fragile and priceless. Can he feel me tremble under him? I have to fight my body to keep from reacting to his electric touch.
This is Luke, I warn myself. And—oh, god—if he moves his hand any further south, I’m going to really embarrass myself.
My breath catches in gasp, and I grab his wrist. “Stop.”
Luke drags his eyes b
ack to my face. His lips are inches from mine. “Why?”
“Just…don’t.”
He moves so that his hand is splayed on my bare stomach. Every muscle deep inside of me jumps like a cat on a hot tin roof under his touch. “I didn’t sleep with anyone when I was in L.A,” he says out of the blue.
I turn my head to the side, staring at the whispery shadows the rain makes against the canvas of the tent. “Maybe you should have,” I reply. “Then you wouldn’t be about to make a huge mistake right now.”
There is a taut silence. Then: “Andi. Look at me.” Luke’s voice is low, commanding. “Look at me.”
He takes his hand from my stomach and puts it on my chin, firmly turning my face to meet his. His eyes search mine intently. “You think this would be a mistake?”
I don’t answer. I know he knows me well enough to read the indecisiveness on my face. Our chests are touching, hearts pounding together. His mouth is so close to mine. It would be so easy to bring my lips to his, to let my hands explore every muscled inch of him. To satisfy that question I see in his eyes when he looks at me.
The thing is—I want to. More than anything I’ve wanted in a long time. And I’ve always been horrible about denying myself anything…especially when I know how bad it is for me.
He’s definitely bad for me, I can already tell.
I suddenly start to panic. I can’t breathe! “Let go, Luke!” I whisper-shout, struggling out of his arms.
He only grips me tighter, reminding me just how much stronger he is than I am. “Why?” he asks huskily, that line between his eyebrows appearing. “What are you so afraid of, Andi?”
I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m afraid I’m going to get your blood all over my face after I headbutt you in the nose.”
I meet his eyes defiantly. The intimate moment is effectively ruined by my threat. Luke suddenly laughs, pressing his forehead against mine. “Ah, you’re killing me, baby,” he groans softly. “You know that, right?”
I jerk my head away. “Let go of me! I’m going to sleep in the truck!”
“Come on, Andi. I swear I’ll be good. Just don’t fucking leave, okay?”
His tone is surprisingly anxious. I stop fighting him long enough to eye him warily. “What do you want?”
“Stay.” Luke brushes a lock of hair from my cheek. “Don’t leave me the way you did in Paris.”
I can’t believe he brought up Paris. I wasn’t sure if he even remembered. “Move. I can’t breathe,” I mutter, pushing him away again. When he finally obliges and shifts to the side, I mutter, “What am I, your new security blanket?”
Luke’s teeth flash white in the darkness. “Something like that.”
We both fall quiet. I lie there with my eyes wide open, afraid to move. With a sigh I feel more than hear, Luke settles me against his chest. He grabs my hand and places it over his thudding heart.
“Don’t let go,” he whispers.
“I won’t,” I lie.
Chapter 14
I wake up to find myself still in Luke’s arms, our legs entangled. I believe I’ve mentioned before that I’m not the cuddling type—but once again I’m proven wrong. Then again, the only other person I’ve slept with was Bran. Maybe it was him that made me non-cuddly and sleep-violent. Hm.
I’m definitely not having violent thoughts right now. I look at Luke’s peaceful face in the pale light of morning, and just like in Paris, I’m almost overcome with a rush of tenderness. His is the face of masculine beauty. But even if you took away his looks—turned those bright gold and green eyes mud brown, thickened his jaw, and hid all those sleek muscles under layers of fat— he would still be sexy. Sexy and beautiful, and mesmerizing. I wish I…
Never mind.
Again, I’m in the position of trying to politely extricate myself from his arms. It’s not as easy given the confines of our shared sleeping bag, and my lack of clothing. Only when the hand resting on my hip slides around to cup my rear end do I realize that I’ve woken him.
“Fuck me,” Luke groans, tightening his grip. “Your ass is amazing.”
“And your ass is about to get kicked if you don’t move your hand.”
I crawl out of the bag, ignoring the sound of his slightly strained laughter. I grab Luke’s phone since I’m not sure where mine is to check the time. Six-fifteen. I wonder if the boys are awake. I cock my head to the side to listen for any telltale creature noises, but all I hear is the pattering sounds of a light rain. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
I suddenly remember that I don’t have any clean clothes to change into. Now what? I carefully rifle through my bag, hoping to find something not covered in greasy creamy lotion. Ugh, all my underwear is soaked, too. No cracks about the ones I’m wearing now, thanks.
“What time is it?” Luke asks in a rusty sleep-roughened voice that I reluctantly must admit gives me pleasant shivers along my spine.
I tell him, and he sits up, immediately stretching out his back. I quickly turn away. “Can I borrow some clothes?” I ask, running a hand self-consciously over my jungle hair.
“Yeah, sure. Help yourself.”
I grab his black sports bag, and don’t think twice about rummaging through his stuff. Hell, I’ve packed for him more times than I can count. Yes, I’ve handled Lucas Greyson’s boxers on many occasions—and trust me, it’s not that thrilling.
I pick out a plain black t-shirt and gray sweat pants for me to wear. I also find several packets of condoms, size large. I don’t take personal offense to this; Luke carries condoms around like he does his phone and keys. So he has sex a lot—at least he’s responsible about it. I bury the packets beneath his socks, trying not to think about how they would have been put to good use last night if things had gone differently.
I put the sweatpants on, rolling them several times at the bottom. Luke is watching me, but I ignore him. I grab the shirt and my Ziploc bag of toiletries, and leave the tent without saying anything. I’m sure he can guess where I’m going.
Fifteen minutes later, I come back to find the boys up and dressed, and running in circles around the tents with their mouths hanging open. I’m not sure if they’re trying to catch rain drops on their tongues, or…I don’t know. I don’t want to know.
Luke comes back from the bathrooms showered and changed. He’s got his Yankees cap on and his sunglasses, ready to go. We have breakfast at a dog-friendly restaurant with outdoor seating. It’s a gloomy drippy morning, but I don’t mind rain on my pancakes. I also eat food that I’ve dropped in my bra. Disgusting—or practical?
After breakfast, I have Luke drive us to a local Price Pride to replace my ruined clothes. I buy the underwear that comes in a pack, a couple of outfits, and windbreakers for the four of us. I also get a meaty dog bone for Devo. Not because I like the stinky creature, or anything. It’s on sale.
Luke has the brilliant idea to take the boys to Sandy Peaks to dune buggy it up. He has to hand over his license for the rental, so of course the guys behind the counter know who he is. They’re pretty cool about it, though. They ask for a couple of pictures with him, and Luke good-naturedly acquiesces. They even want me and the kids to pose with them, but hell, no. Luke asks if they could keep his presence here a secret, and they cheerfully agree. I secretly think that threats would be more effective, but what do I know.
Luke pays one of the staff to babysit Devo for us. We rent two dune buggies; Luke takes Dalton and Talon is with me. It’s awesome! Every time we go airborne, Talon and I shriek at the top of our lungs. I think Talon’s screams have more to do with terror than exhilaration, though when I ask him if he wants to stop, he shakes his head vigorously no. I take him at his word and only go faster. I hit every mud puddle I can, and it’s not long before we’re both covered in filth. Luke and I race each other up and over dunes, and along the waves crashing onto the shore.
Balls. I get my dune buggy taken away due to reckless driving. They let us have a four-seater in exchange, so all is not
lost. Luke is definitely a much better driver than I am; he doesn’t skid or almost tip over once. Dalton is so into it, I’m worried he’s going to shit himself from the excitement. I have a feeling his mother, whom I’ve heard is super-overprotective, is not going to be thrilled to discover her baby boy has the need for speed.
We spend the whole day there, and I can honestly say it’s the most fun I’ve had since I’ve been back. By the time we roll back to camp, it’s after five, and we’re all caked in mud. I have it in my ears, which is weird because I was wearing a helmet the whole time.
After thorough showers, we have dinner at the lodge. Talon and Dalton eat like starving feral children, but I’m too busy stuffing my own face to care much. Half the menu sits on our table, I’m not ashamed to say. Play big; eat big, as my dear old dad used to say.
A light rain continues to fall. I want to go straight to sleep after dinner, but I am unanimously outvoted. So here I am, sitting on a log on the cold and windy beach. The kids are running through the crashing surf with their stubby-legged companion. No, not Luke, ha ha. He’s sitting next to me, and I’m furtively trying to use him as a wind block.
Now that’s it’s just the two of us again, I expect it to get awkward. And I am not disappointed. Still, we try hard to soldier through it by talking about everything from his upcoming shooting schedule (which I already know better than he does) to how my parents first met.
“She really did, I swear,” I say. “She tackled him at a Boise State football game. She saw him from across the crowded parking lot, and she just knew he was the one. She didn’t know his name, so how else was she supposed to get his attention before he got away?”
Luke is shaking his head and laughing, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “I think I would have liked your mom.” He chuckles.
“I used to ask her what would have happened if Uncle Charlie had been there instead, since he and my dad were virtually interchangeable. She would just give me the stink eye," I reminisce with a smile.
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