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He shakes his head. "You refuse to talk about the wedding."
"So?" Even through my coat, the wall is hard behind me. Cold.
Luke moves closer. His crotch connects with mine. Then his chest. Then his fingers are on my neck, my chin, my cheek.
"You're killing me with this," he says.
"I know." I shrink back, but I have no room to move, to do anything but feel him pressed against me.
"I should have asked about inviting your mother."
"You think?"
He shifts his hips, pressing me against the wall. I shudder, wrapping my arms around his waist so I won't fall.
"Luke..." My voice is soft, almost helpless. I close my eyes. Maybe I can forget this is happening, forget everything but how his body feels against mine.
"I didn't mean to ambush you," he says. It's soft, but far from helpless. It's strong, demanding, like he's not going to say it again. "But I won't apologize for wanting to meet your mother."
I blink my eyes open. He's still staring at me like I'm the most interesting thing he's ever seen. My stomach flip flops. This is too much.
"You should have asked."
"I know."
I dig my fingers into the hard fabric of his blazer, until I can nearly feel the warmth of his skin underneath it. "You've barely talked to me since last time you were here." My voice is a tiny whisper.
"You've barely talked to me since the last time I was here." It's not an accusation, just a simple statement of facts.
I sink my teeth into my lip. My legs are so shaky. I have to squeeze him tighter just to stand. "But that's not like you."
He brushes his lips against my cheek. "I'm sorry."
My heart races. There's nothing I can say. Nothing that can make it easier to admit I nearly gave up on us.
"You should push the button eventually," I say.
"But the second I let you go, you're going to move away from me. Probably for a while."
I shake my head, but I can't bring myself to deny it. "You're the one... You pulled away from me." I reach for something to grab onto, something that will help me stand, but there's nothing in this whole stupid elevator. Nothing but him.
"I know," he says. He shifts back, releasing me, but his eyes stay glued to mine.
I stumble to catch my balance, trying to hold on to the slick mirrored walls.
"Did you stop loving me?" I ask.
"Of course not."
"Lose your patience?" I close my eyes like that will somehow lessen the impact of a yes.
Damn it. Just hit the fucking button. End this conversation before it steers us off a cliff.
"Maybe," he says.
Luke presses the button for our floor and the elevator starts to rise. He turns back to me, his eyes passing over me. It's not sexual. It's more like he's a doctor checking to make sure I have no obvious signs of illness.
"Ally, I'm... I should have." He runs his hand through his hair. "I don't mean it like that."
