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“But I can go if you want my company,” he adds.
“I don't want you to think less of me,” I say.
“I'm sure you have your reasons for putting up with Ryan. It's not his personality or his looks. It's probably not his money. Maybe it's the sex. Maybe he's great in bed.”
“No, he's only okay.” Fuck. Did I just say that? There is no way I just told Luke that Ryan isn't good in bed. I might as well have asked Luke to fuck me right here, on the grass, in front of any random person who walks by.
I might as well have told him I'm lonely, desperate, and horny.
He laughs. “My lips are sealed.” He offers me his hand. “Now, do you want to take a walk?”
“Ryan wouldn't like that.”
“Miss Summers, it's only a walk. I meant what I said yesterday. I'm not going to spring some seduction attempt on you. I'll make my intentions very clear.”
“And if I say no?”
“Well, you are engaged. That's the answer I'd expect.”
It's only a walk. An innocent walk. A completely innocent stroll down the boardwalk.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the clip-clop of my flip-flops. We cross a street, heading into a residential neighborhood. Where could we possibly be going?
“I know you and Ryan have been together for a while,” Luke breaks the silence.
“Do you?”
“About four years, right?”
“About that.”
“Four years is a long time to be with s
omeone you don't love,” Luke says.
“How is that your business?”
“It's not. But I wouldn't want to get in the way of true love, real love, the kind of romantic, passionate love that leaves you breathless and keeps you together for 80 years.”
“I'm not a romantic.”
“Then you've never been in love,” he says. He stops in front of a two-story house. It's modest, but nice. White with blue trim. He leads me through the front yard, a mass of grass, and reaches over a blue gate to unhook it. Is this his house? It seems much too domestic and feminine for a guy like Luke.
“If you really love him, and you really want to be with him forever, I don't want to fuck that up. But I know, better than anyone, that women can't be stolen. They can only decide to stray. Or decide to leave.”
“You talking about anyone in particular?” I ask.
“Come on, come in,” he says. “Don't worry. It's a friend's place. I'm house sitting.”
I nod, fine, and follow him into the backyard. It's suburban paradise. Rose bushes. Sleek patio furniture. Crystal blue pool.
Luke strips to his boxers. Jesus, his body is amazing. His arms and legs aren't big, but they're sculpted. His back and shoulders are strong. His chest and abs are perfectly chiseled, right down to those amazing v-lines I keep staring at. His boxers hang around his hips. Just above his…
I am so fucked.
“You coming in?” Luke asks, jumping into the pool. He emerges, black hair sticking to his head, his body practically glistening in the sun.
“I'm not wearing a swim suit,” I say.
