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Turning in his lap, I point my bare hip and its turbine tattoo up at him.
“Well, that’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, caressing it softly.
Eagerly, I graze my fingers across his hard length. “Your turn?”
Luke’s hand stops my movements again. “Believe me, I cannot wait to have you wrapped around my cock in every way imaginable, but tonight is about you.” He kisses me, and the taste of my orgasm on his lips makes me even more wild for him. “Plus, if I leave you wanting more, I know you won’t turn me down for a second date.”
Chapter 25
Luke
“Hate to break it to you, kid, but sometimes your mother does know what she’s talking about.”-Grandad Ernie, to thirteen-year-old Luke, after his mom’s advice about a girl in his class turned out to be right.
Me: Morning gorgeous.
Allie: Morning handsome! Interested in today’s horoscope?
Me: Interested in anything you have to say.
Allie: “Trust your intuition Little Goat.”
Me: It did not say little goat. Where are you getting these?
Allie: Don’t question my methods.
Me: When do I get to see you today?
Allie: I’ll be in at 10.
Me: I’ll be waiting.
Fixing bikes is not only my work, but also my meditation. Working with my hands calms my mind and helps me focus.
Well, it does on every day but today. I’ve been looking atthe same four cylinders all morning, barely making any progress because all I can focus on is the time crawling by until I get to see Allie again.
Betty whines by my feet, looking through the window for the woman who occupies my mind. I scratch her behind the ears. “I know, babe. Our girl will be here soon.”
It hasn’t even been twelve hours yet. Apparently, now that we’ve crossed the line from friends who pretend they don’t flirt with each other over to people who are honest about wanting each other, I’ve lost my ability to wait patiently.
I thought I was fucked before, mind constantly occupied with Allie, but now that I know how she looks laid out before me, playing with her perfect nipples and responding so thoroughly to every touch of my hands? I’ll never be able to think of anything else again. Nothing could be better than Allie, vulnerable in my arms and trusting me to take care of her.
The moment I first saw her through our shared glass wall, I knew she was gorgeous. Then I spoke to her, and she spit fire at me, and I knew she was special. The idea of fate always seemed like a copout for people who don’t want to take responsibility for their own choices. That was until I heard Allie call me a jackass, and instead of pissing me off, it made me want to hear every word she’d deign to share with me. The feeling in my gut that she’s meant to be in my life started building right then.
My mom would say it’s intuition. She’s always insisted that she has feelings about people, and I’ve always dismissed it. She believes when she meets someone, she can sense what their purpose in her life will be, what their ‘story together’ will be.
She claims the intuition extends to me and Skye, too. The first day she met Cam, she told me he was going to be the brother I never had. Even at thirteen, I told her that was a load of woo-woo bullshit. She couldn’t possibly knowthat about this kid after spending three minutes with him. But, as often happens with my mother, she was right.
I wrote it off as one of many lucky guesses. For every time my mom’s intuition is right about something, it’s wrong about another. After Skye’s recent foray into psych classes, she told my mom she didn’t have intuition—she had confirmation bias. It did not go over well.
Still, I’ve avoided mentioning Allie to her, half because she might confirm that Allie is destined to be in my life, half because she might contradict it.
Unmistakable movement from the other side of the glass wall catches my eye.Allie.The swing of her hips is just exaggerated enough that I know it’s intentional, making her walk look like a dance.
The sight of her brings me immediate relief. She laughs at something a customer says, throwing her head back and revealing the delectable neck I now know the taste of. I take a step closer to the window, watching her as she tucks some wild hairs behind her ear and twists her fingers around an earring that hoops around her soft earlobe. I know the taste of that earlobe now, too. Every inch of her is salty and sweet.
She’s wearing a cut-off band t-shirt and a yellow skirt. It has to be her favorite color. She wears it so often and so well. After seeing her wrapped in that soft yellow lace last night, it’s mine, too.
She laughs, her chestnut ponytail moving expectedly along with her shaking shoulders, and then her eyes catch mine. She blushes but doesn’t look away. I could watch Allie all day,and most days I do, but this time I need to be closer.
