Page 96 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“You have muscles now.”

He wraps his arms around my torso briefly, so I can feel the strength of him banded about me. “You like muscles?”

I like you, I think.

“They’re different,” I say.

His arms go back to either side of me, his chest pressing more firmly into my back.

“Different and thus no longer compatible?” He kisses a part of my shoulder, barely exposed from the nightgown, and my reaction is almost embarrassingly immediate, I can’t help the way my entire body cants toward him, my butt pushing into his reaction. “Physically, we’ve just demonstrated we’re more compatible than we used to be.”

“I wouldn’t say more compatible.” Because arguing is safer than talking about feelings.

“Are we back to claiming the sex was adequate?”

I laugh even as I remember Khloe’s warning: All we have is nostalgia. “Are you the kind of guy who needs constant praise now? Is that the new Lucas?”

Lucas chuckles, not the least bit offended. I can feel the vibrations of his chest through the thin fabric of my nightdress.

“Given the chance, I think you’ll find I’ve changed very little.”

I smooth a hand down the muscles of his forearm. “I beg to differ.”

“Physically, I’m healthier. The muscles are a byproduct of living a life of abstinence, which then fuels both my home gym workouts as well as weekly sessions with a personal trainer. But inside, I’m still the same awkward nerd.”

I shake my head, because even though I don’t believe him, this is why I ultimately blocked him. “I’m going to need you to talk less.”

Lucas laughs again, his breath hot against my neck. “Explain.”

“Given enough time, you can convince me of anything: The sky is purple. Fish don’t exist. We⁠—”

“I don’t need to convince you the sky is purple.” His breath tickles at the shell of my ear, and when I shiver, he nips it gently.

“Blue light scattering,” I say.

“Fish aren’t technically an evolutionary group,” he continues.

Even though he can’t see, I roll my eyes. “I chose my examples poorly.”

“And we are frighteningly compatible. Meant to be to⁠—”

“Truce,” I whisper, my voice broken. “Please.”

Behind me, Lucas widens his stance to minimize our height difference, and he wraps his long arms around me. One hand travels up to my breast and even over my nightdress, and my reaction is instantaneous, revealingly, embarrassingly so. My nipple puckers and my entire body arches into his touch, my head falling back to rest on his broad chest. He knows just how to tease and graze, just how much pressure to apply when he pinches my nipple. “Another demonstration?”

I turn my head, arching into a kiss, and even though the angle is awkward, with my back to his chest, against the cool Hawaiian breeze, it is also exquisite. His other hand moves downward to cup me over my gown, the fabric too thin to offer any resistance as he presses one finger into my flesh. Even through the fabric, the dampness is obvious.

I close my eyes, my entire body simmering with want. Against the warmth of his chest, I can feel the thud, thud, thud of his heart, a drumbeat that steadies me, its increasing tempo proof that Lucas is every bit as affected as I am.

“At least admit you want this.”

I move my hips restlessly against his, knowing there’s no way to hide my body’s response. He uses his legs to nudge mine farther apart even as one hand gathers the nightgown. Instinctively, my hand stops his, but then I remember the rash there is gone. We’re still protected by the moonlight. I push past my lingering hesitation and guide his hand down to the hem of the nightgown, helping him gather the long cotton skirt.

The cool air feels amazing against my too-heated skin, and I squirm as Lucas nips at my neck.

“Hold this.” Lucas hands me the fabric he’s gathered, giving me barely a second to respond before his fingers find me again, his fingers slipping easily into my warm flesh.

I close my eyes and clutch the skirt to my breast, leaning forward a little, allowing Lucas to spread my legs even farther as he sinks one long finger deep inside me, pulls out, reenters with two, the heel of his hand rubbing my clit with the perfect amount of pressure. I gasp and let go of the skirt, my entire body flushing as Lucas chuckles. He pulls his hand from me long enough to regather the skirt, and my eagerness in helping him is embarrassingly transparent.