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"I've already made a name for myself, I think," Luke said. "Now I get to take a year just for myself, and then I'll think of the future."
She smiled, apparently pleased with his answer. "Don't let what happened to you in the past make you lose faith in life." She nodded meaningfully. I made a mental note to ask Luke more about his failed romance. It was something we had in common.
The evening went on, and Luke pulled me onto his lap, his arms around me, my legs thrown over his lap. Being so close to him in that way, the warmth of his body, the comfort of his arms, made me uncomfortably aroused. He squirmed a bit as well, and I wondered if he felt the same. A part of me wanted to just give in and have meaningless but fantastic sex with him. He was gorgeous, he was smart and funny, and very sexy.
The other part – the part into self-preservation – was leery of doing so. I knew what I was like. I couldn’t just be a fuck buddy. I just couldn't.
I admired Candace's ability to be with a new man and enjoy him purely for the sex, but that wasn't me. I'd been with only a couple of men in my life and didn’t find it easy to just fall into bed with a new one. I had to be warmed up.
I was definitely warmed up sitting that way with Luke.
One by one, the other guests got up and said goodnight, saying they'd see us in the morning on the patio for brunch. I felt strangely comfortable sitting there, performing for Luke's family and friends. If I let myself, I could imagine taking Luke's hand and going upstairs to bed, and fucking our brains out.
I couldn't let myself do that.
He was leaving, and that was all I needed to know.
I sighed when Luke's parents got up to leave and we said goodnight.
"Will you be staying the entire weekend?" Mrs. Marshall asked.
"She will be," Luke answered. He turned to me and smiled, squeezing me. "We plan on spending the entire weekend decompressing. Sun, surf and lots of beer is on the agenda."
Mrs. Marshall smiled, but it wasn't real. I knew she didn't approve of me. I wasn't likely up to her standards for her son. She wanted someone like Felicia Blake for Luke, not little old me from Oregon.
Well, let me tell you something about your son, Mrs. M. He doesn't want anyone. Not Felicia and not me.
He wants Mars.
* * *
When we were finally alone, Luke turned to me. The lights were low, with the glow from the gas fireplace making everything warm. It seemed entirely natural for him to lean in closer and kiss me, and it seemed entirely natural for me to kiss him back.
So I did.
The kiss went from warm and affectionate to hot and needy and Luke pushed me back on the sofa, lying on top of me while he continued to kiss me and inexplicably, I went on kissing him back without protest.
His hard length pressed into me in just the right places and I couldn't hold back a groan in response.
What the fuck was I doing? Apparently, not putting a stop to things…
When his hand slid down from my shoulder to one breast, he pulled back and looked into my eyes. He squeezed, his thumb finding my nipple and stroking it through the fabric of my sundress.
He didn't do or say anything, like he was waiting for me to protest.
I didn't.
I wanted it. For that moment at least, I shut off that part of my brain that would usually say STOP! He won’t love you.
At that moment, I honestly didn't care if he didn't love me or wouldn't ever love me.
At that moment, all I wanted was for the moment to continue and for him to keep touching me, keep kissing me. I wanted to feel him inside of me. I wanted – I needed – that sweet sweet release that would only happen when I came while he was filling me up so completely.
&
nbsp; It had been so long since I had been filled up completely.
"I want you," he said, his voice breathless as he continued to touch me, his hand moving lower, down over one hip. He squeezed my buttock and pulled my hips more tightly against him so that I could feel his erection press against me.
