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“Looks great.” Luke’s voice was soft, and Rose looked up to find that instead of the bowl, he was watching her, desire in his eyes.
“I think so, too,” she said. She reached up to poke his nose and stick a tiny bit of dough onto it, and she laughed as she moved for the sink to clean off her hands again. As she dried them on the plush towel hanging from a rod on the counter, she heard him cover the bread and then felt his arms encircling her waist, his lips brushing her neck.
“I’m sorry for last night,” he told her quietly. “I know you said you weren’t scared, but I just—I don’t deserve you, Rose.”
She spun around so quickly that he pulled back a little, his eyes widening.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “Are you still worried about what Alex said?”
“I—” He looked away, staring at the counter behind her with a frown. “It’s a lot of things. If you’re with me, you’re always going to have to worry about assholes with cameras invading your personal space and your boss finding out everything about your personal life without you telling her. You’re always going to wonder whether your child would’ve been happier with their real father. And whether you would have, too.”
Rose blinked. The desire in Luke’s green eyes had been replaced by pain. She laid her hands on his cheeks and guided his face gently downward, and his focus returned to her.
“Listen to me,” she said gently. “I appreciate that you want to make me happy, and it’s… well, it’s a complicated situation, to say the very least. But you are the one I want. Like I said before, there was a time when I thought that was Alex. And I’m so sorry for that, but I made a mistake. I’ve made several, actually. And the first big one was letting you go.” She stretched up to kiss him softly, her thumbs caressing his cheeks as her hands kept him close. After a moment, she pulled back to meet his eyes again. “All I want is you.”
***
“All I want is you.” The words hung in the air around Luke as he finished cooking. Rose stood at his side, watching him bake the bread and taking the lead on the pasta—Alfredo, which had always been her favorite. He wanted to believe her words so badly that the need was suffocating him. He wanted to ask her exactly what that meant; how far did she want this to go? The engagement ring he’d given her years earlier still rested in its box in his nightstand back in Winnetka. Part of him knew it was absurd to even be thinking about these things after such a short amount of time, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t like they were starting from scratch with this relationship. It felt like they were trying to pick up where they’d left off, and that had been a couple of months before a walk down the aisle.
But would Rose see it that way? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure whether he was ready to ask her.
He needed air. He turned around to reach for their bowls of pasta, but he found that Rose had already grabbed them. Within a few moments, she’d reached the open back doors, and she stepped outside. He watched through the glass wall as she crossed the patio and set the bowls down on the table. Night had fallen over the island, and the light of the torches surrounding the house played across Rose’s face, making her eyes dance and lending a mysterious quality to her smile.
She’s smiling and we aren’t even in the same room. Seems like a good sign.
Luke grabbed the platter the bread rested on and started for the doors. Rose reached them before he did, and when she paused in the doorway, he caught his breath. The flickering torches illuminated her hair from behind and shone through the thin material of her blouse, and it made her glow.
“What?” she asked.
He blinked, and as his eyes slid back into focus, he realized she was watching him, amusement in the set of her lips.
“You’re perfect.” He leaned close to kiss her cheek, and she let out a quiet, dismissive laugh.
“That’s the hunger talking. You’re getting delusional.”
Luke frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but in a second, she was gone, returning to the kitchen to retrieve their glasses. He sighed and laid the bread platter on the table, and with the knife he’d carried out on it, he went to work cutting a few slices for each of them. The air was thick with humidity. He knew it had to be much colder at home, and he found himself appreciating the opportunity to get away once again.
In a few moments, she’d returned, a bottle of sparkling juice under her arm and glasses in her hands. She set them beside their chairs and filled them before placing the bottle next to the bread platter.
The warmth of the food was comforting, and much to Luke’s relief, the bread had turned out well—Rose smiled on the first bite. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d baked it, but he knew it must’ve been before she had left him. Slowly, the tension eased from his muscles. Despite his fears, she seemed fully comfortable. She smiled often as they ate, conversing between bites, and she didn’t seem the least bit angry with him or tired of him. He pushed Alex’s words from his mind and focused on the woman across from him.
When they had finished off the bottle and she stood to go for another, he caught her wrist as she walked past. She looked down at him where he sat, and he traced her skin softly with his thumb.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“Coming back.”
Surprise flickered across Rose’s face, and then she leaned down to kiss him softly. Her long hair tickled his cheek and his neck, and he pulled her closer, finally allowing himself to give in to the desire that had been building since they had arrived. He slipped his fingers into her hair and cradled the back of her head, and his other hand skimmed down her back to rest at her waist. He pulled her onto his lap as their kisses grew more passionate, and as she wrapped her arms around him and scooted closer until her chest was pressed to his, he felt himself hardening beneath her. Pressing his hips upward, he felt her core against him, and his cock throbbed with need. The clothes separating them needed to disappear. Her skirt wasn’t doing much to keep them apart, but her underwear…
She pulled her lips away, and he couldn’t hold back a soft groan of protest. She kissed along his jaw and toward his ear.
“Why don’t we take this inside?” she breathed.
“Gladly.” His voice came out low and rough, and he didn’t bother hiding the lust in it. He slipped one hand beneath her to support her as he stood, and he nudged the sliding door open with his elbow as he carried her into the house. As he walked, her lips skimmed along his neck, and he purred at the sensation of her kiss and the warm wetness he could feel building beneath his hand through the lace of her panties. He left the outside door open, and when they reached the one to the bedroom, he paused there long enough to pin her against it, lift her face from his neck, and kiss her hard. He rocked against her, grinding against her sex, and she let out a rough moan.
“I need you,” she whispered.
