by Elise Faber
He pulled her closer, threaded his hand into her hair, kissing her deeper, with more passion, with more hunger than he’d ever experienced. He was in the desert, dying and dehydrated, and Lexi was his salvation, his oasis, his pool of water far in the distance—so fucking far that he’d had to walk for miles over a scorching dune before he’d stumbled upon it, jumped into that icy pond. She was the cool kiss of the moisture on his skin, the perfect balm after years out in that roasting wasteland.
Then . . . still.
She went still again. Frozen like a statue, stiff where she’d once been warm and pliable in his arms.
She tore her mouth away, pushed at his chest.
“Luc, I—”
He dropped his arms, scuttled back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t—” Something terrible flashed in her eyes. Something that eviscerated him, that had him shutting the fuck up before he finished saying, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Lexi spun away from him, picked up her purse from the island. “I need to go,” she whispered.
He reached for her.
But she’d already turned away, hurried to the front door. What right did he have to chase after her? After everything she’d been through, how could he do anything but let her run away?
Still, he found himself taking a step after her. Another.
She spun back. “Don’t,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t do this.”
His stomach seized. His heart turned into an icy bolder, sinking heavy and deep. But more than anything, the only thing he could think was, “Fuck that.” He wasn’t going to let her run away. Not after everything they’d been through. Maybe she didn’t want him. Maybe the other night had truly just been the result of too much alcohol and a dry spell. But even if she didn’t want him, Lexi was still his best friend. And he wasn’t giving her up.
He moved forward, closing the distance between them, taking her in his arms, as he’d done so many times before, as a friend, as a man who hated when a woman he cared about was hurting, as a man who longed to hold and touch a woman he loved, in any way.
“No,” he said.
Just no. Just those two letters. Just the one word.
No.
And she shuddered, stilled, didn’t fight his embrace, melted against his chest.
“Luc,” she whispered.
His arms tightened.
This was right. So fucking right. Luc and Lexi. Her and him.
“We shouldn’t,” she murmured.
“We need to,” he murmured back. “This. You and me. It’s good. It could be really fucking good. It—”
A trembling breath. Her arms tentatively coming around him, and she rested her ear against his chest, probably able to hear his heart thundering within. Everything inside him was perched on a precipice, ready and waiting, anxious, terrified to hear what she would say next.
Then she squeezed him, bringing them closer. “We’d be perfect,” she whispered.
Triumph ringing through him, church bells on a summer day, the sound resonating through the air, filling his lungs with vibrating joy.
Joy that was squashed in the next instant.
“But Luc,” she said, “we shouldn’t.”
Breaking into pieces, the shards scattering this way and that. He’d miscalculated. He’d thought she’d responded to him, thought her not struggling, not holding back meant that she wanted him, too. He’d thought . . . too many fucking things apparently. If she didn’t want him, it would kill him, but he’d shove the attraction down, he’d box it back up, because there was only one unacceptable thing.
Not having Lexi in his life.
“Do you not . . .” He paused, arms loosening, starting to step back. “That way? With me? Is it not . . . You don’t want—”
She swallowed hard, deliberately not looking at him.
Fuck. Fuck. He froze, dropped his arms.
“Luc.”
He turned away, sucked in a breath that felt like razor wire, released it slowly, even though that somehow felt even worse. “I get it.” Forced the next words out. “No hard feelings. It’s . . . I’m”—he forced his tone to go light, teasing, even though he despised it—“just still hopped up on adrenaline from nearly getting mowed down by a car. Ignore me.” He moved into the kitchen, away from her, even though every cell in his body was telling him to turn back, to kiss her again, to kiss her until she recognized their potential, until she kissed him in return.
Until she loved him as much as he loved her.
“You’re limping,” she said, her voice quiet.
“I’m fine,” he said, knowing he was anything but.
“It was a car?” she asked, the question barely reaching his ears.
“Yeah.”
For one moment, he wished she’d just stop talking, would leave, would give him the space to wallow and be miserable.
But only for a second.
Because although it felt like she was carving his insides out with a spoon, he couldn’t ignore her, didn’t want her to go.
He wanted her.
However much of her she would give him.
As pathetic of a sop as that made him.
“Luc?”
He turned back.
“Are you really okay?”
“Never been better,” he said, taking a step toward the fridge. “Did you want to eat?”
“I . . .”
He knew what her answer was going to be, even before her words crossed the gulf between them.
“Should go.”
“Okay,” he said, going to the table, picking up the trash and supplies that had never made it to the garbage can, back into the first aid kit. “I’ll see you—”
The front door opened and closed.
He carefully put the antibiotic ointment away, threw the trash into the pail, but when his gaze made it to the beginnings of pancake batter Lexi had been putting together, he couldn’t stomach finishing it . . . or throwing it away.
In fact, he couldn’t stand being in this kitchen, in this house.
His stomach churned, his lungs felt tight, every muscle in his body locked down. He pounded toward the back door, took one look at the porch, at Lexi’s plants, her twinkling lights, smelled the sweet floral scent, and he kept moving. Past the hot tub, into that cluster of oak trees, to the bench, fingers drifting along the paperback.
And then like that evening six months ago, he took out his rage and disappointment on the poor, abused oak trees.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lexi
Her lips tingled. Her heart pounded.
Her legs were so shaky that she barely made it down the porch steps, barely made it to her car.
Fingers fumbling, she tugged open the door, sat in the driver’s seat, but she couldn’t close it, just kept her ass plunked on the leather, her feet hanging out the frame, her body twisted to rest her forehead on the steering wheel.
Sweat dripped down her nape, soaked into her shift, the band of her bra, dripped between her breasts.
That kiss . . .
Holy fucking smokes, the man kissed like a tempest, thrashing her against the rocks, weighty, crushing waves crashing over her, only to have his arms draw tighter, his feet to brace heavy against the ocean floor, to hold her steady against the ravaging current.
And that whole time, memories had crept back in.
His front against her spine in the club. Him making eye contact with the bartender, and suddenly her drinks didn’t have alcohol in them. His arm steadying her as she stumbled in her heels. His gentle hands removing her heels.
His bed.
His smile.
His touch.
His . . .
Suddenly, she straightened, pushed from the car and closed the door behind her, moving up the driveway and inside, finding the kitchen empty, the rest of the house silent. There was a force propelling her as she searched his bedroom, his bathroom, the study. She even checked the guest room.
But Luc wasn
’t inside.
So then, her feet carried her into the back yard.
No sign of him in the lush greenery, nor in the open space to the side of the hot tub. She almost turned back, to go inside again, but then she heard it—
A quiet thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk coming from the way back.
There was a sickening feeling in her stomach, twisting and clawing its way through her insides as she listened to that constant thumping, the impacts echoing through the yard.
She hurried back, not certain of what she would find and yet also somehow, some part of her was aware of exactly what Luc was doing.
And there he was, his fists bloody as he punched the tree, his hair hanging all in his face, sweat sheening over his arms, his throat from his exertions, combining with that from the run earlier. It was raw and animalistic, almost sexy in an alpha male sort of way. Probably, she should be equal parts pissed off that he was hurting himself and grossed out, by the blood, by the sweat.
But instead, she just had a pang in her chest, sympathy for him weighing her shoulders down.
He’d given her that sign, taken that first step. And she’d—
Her eyes slid closed, opened slowly. The terror that had gripped her in the middle of that kiss was gone.
Just. Gone.
Because . . . Luc.
He’d kissed her. He’d said he wanted her—or had he? He’d said they would be good together, and she’d agreed.
That was the truth.
But how could they possibly be together?
Luc was . . . well, quite simply, the best man she knew. And how could she bring her broken, dumped, cheated on ass into his life? It would be cruel and unusual punishment for her to do that. She wasn’t . . .
A splinter of frustration, of fury shot through her.
Not at the man who hadn’t yet noticed her, who was wailing on the tree trunk, whose knuckles were split, but at herself.
Caleb had fucked around on her.
She’d spent the last six months being broken and hurt and . . . just wasn’t that long enough? Couldn’t she just let it go now? Couldn’t she just do her best to create something with this lovely, wonderful man who nearly singed her eyebrows off with his kiss? Didn’t she have enough courage to push through the fear of getting hurt again, especially when it was with someone like Luc?
She used to be the type of woman who courage and confidence in spades.
She used to be the type of woman to leap.
She used . . .
“Haven’t you already bled enough for one day?”
The words came from behind some inner well inside her, some deep reserve of bravery she hadn’t even known still existed. But to her astonishment, it was there, and that force propelled her into action, allowed the words to come, allowed her to lean against the trunk of the adjacent tree, to cross her arms and wait, affecting casualness.
Even though her heart still pounded, her throat was tight, and she would be lying if she said there wasn’t a small piece of her that was absolutely terrified to do this, that she would ruin this.
But, despite that fear, she held on to that glimmer of herself.
And Lexi found courage.
Luc had stopped from the moment she began speaking. Going absolutely frozen, his chest heaving, his gaze fixed on the tree in front of him. But there wasn’t any more punching, so at least there was that.
Then his head swiveled, green eyes coming to hers, slowly, oh so slowly, as though he hadn’t trusted his ears, as though she were an apparition and wouldn’t actually be standing there. As though . . . he never in a million freaking years actually expected her to be standing a few feet away from him.
“You’re still here,” he whispered hoarsely.
Intensity rippled through the air, scorching waves bursting forth from his stare, his body, his . . . heart. Wrapping her in warmth, although he wasn’t actually touching her.
And that bolstered her courage, gave her the strength to lift her chin and say, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Something amazing happened to his face—softening and hardening at once, determination and gentleness weaving through his expression and his eyes. God, his eyes were beautiful. Molten, the green irises glittering like the most beautiful pair of emeralds she’d ever been given the opportunity to view. She’d never seen eyes like that, never witnessed that depth of emotion in someone else’s gaze.
It made her feel . . . so much. So much more than she’d realized.
Even as she was reeling from the impact of that realization, that flurry of emotions, he moved, closing the space between them, one hand reaching for her then stopping a few inches away, his eyes going to his knuckles. He winced, started to draw back.
Now she moved, grabbing his wrist and keeping him in place, drawing him nearer, until that slightly roughened palm met her cheek.
“I’m here,” she said, turning her head so she could kiss the inside of his wrist.
His lips parted. “Lexi.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Scared to get hurt or to disappoint you. Scared to lose you as my friend.”
His expression clouded.
“But,” she said. “I’m also so fucking pissed.”
Brows drawing together, he opened his mouth.
She spoke first. “I’m pissed that I didn’t see Caleb for what he was. I’m pissed that I’ve wasted six more months on him when I should have been moving on with my life. And I’m pissed that I’ve spent these last six months thinking you weren’t interested in me.”
His fingers flexed on her cheek. “I couldn’t be interested in you, Lex.”
Maybe once that would have hurt, but today she knew what he meant. Because neither of them were cheaters. Because she’d been happy in her relationship and not in the right mental headspace to even consider him as anything more than her best friend.
But . . . Luc was right in what he said before.
They’d be good together.
She felt it in her bones, her heart, in the flutters invoked from his touch, the butterflies from her stomach, the joy when he was near.
They’d be perfect.
“I know,” she said, kissing his wrist again, grabbing onto her courage again, holding it tight, using it to feed her strength, her words. “But . . . we could be something now. We could go on a date”—God, that sounded stupid after they’d spent so much time together—“or just . . . I don’t know, see what it’s like to be more than friends.” Her teeth found her lip, bit down on the corner of it, struggling to put her thoughts into words.
Why did this feel so fucking stupid?
Things with Luc had never been awkward. Not ever and now, with one kiss, one conversation, she was spiraling. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe . . .
“Lex,” he began, his tone infinitely gentle, a note of careful in his voice.
Her stomach clenched, tying itself into knots that were worse than those she’d made as an eight-year-old learning how to do up her shoelaces.
Because maybe even with that chance of perfect on the horizon, they shouldn’t do this.
Except, maybe that was the fear talking.
And maybe she needed to continue womaning up, so she would stop being the sniveling coward she’d been the last six months.
No maybes.
All certainties.
It was enough.
Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his shoulders and drifted closer. “Did you know that I realized a long time ago I was wrong about Caleb?” His brows drew down. “Because he wasn’t the best man I knew.” She slid one hand down, rested it on his chest, just above his heart. “You are.” A beat. “And you’ve proven it to me every day from the moment I met you.”
He inhaled sharply, let the breath shudder out. “Lex.”
She pulled on that well of courage, tugging up strands, wrapping them tightly around each other. “Do you want to date me?” she asked baldly.
The sound he made was garbled, a groan, a sound of disbelief
, a noise of surprise. “Yes, baby,” he said, voice hoarse. “It’s all I’ve dreamed about since the moment I first heard you laugh. I’ve wanted you for years, and it feels like a fantasy for us to even be having this conversation, for you to ask that question.”
Her lips parted, and her breath trembled as it left her mouth. “So,” she whispered, cloaking herself in more bravery. Just a little more. It was heady and intoxicating, making her feel like her old self again. Her chin lifted. Her shoulders straightened. “Kiss me.”
A long, still moment.
The thread between them pulling taut once again.
And then his mouth was on hers.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Luc
This was a dream. A wonderful, unbelievable dream.
Then, in a movement that should have been choreographed in some shitty, romantic movie, he bent and she jumped, and suddenly she was in his arms, her thighs around his waist, her lips never leaving his.
Music should be blaring around them, flowers springing to life, bluebirds fluttering through the sky.
Or doves.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. Definitely doves. He dragged his lips over her throat when she pulled her mouth from his, sucking in great gasps of air. His own lungs burned, but he’d rather suffer from asphyxiation than stop tasting her.
“Yeah, what?” she asked, panting.
He blinked, half-crazed from the taste of her. “Huh?”
“You said, yeah,” she said, her breaths rapid puffs that glazed his skin. “What’d you mean?”
Lexi was wrapped around him, her pussy hot and slightly damp against his stomach, even through the layers between them. Her breasts pressed firmly against his chest, her mouth was close, her skin was nirvana. All of which meant he was having a hell of a time concentrating on anything that was conservation and not just pure sensation.
“Luc?” she asked, fingers sliding into his hair, her hips undulating. “What did you mean?”
He finally managed to piece together two thoughts. “Doves,” he blurted.
She froze, jerked back, and nearly toppled from his arms. “What?”