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Definitely not imaginary.
Lukas shoved himself up and yanked on a pair of jeans, the better to disguise the lingering evidence of arousal. Then he put his game face on and padded barefoot to the door.
A glimpse through the security viewer confirmed his worst fears—Holly, hair mussed, in shorts and an oversize T-shirt, shifted from one foot to the other, raised her hand to knock again, then let it drop to her side, fingers twisting. Once more she half raised it, then cradled it in her other hand, turned and started to walk away.
He didn’t even hesitate. Lukas jerked open the door. “What’s wrong?”
She spun back to face him, eyes wide, her mouth opening in a soundless O as she met his gaze. He saw her throat work once, then again.
“What’s wrong, Holly?” he asked again, doing his best to keep his voice calm, steady, the exact opposite of his hammering heart. “What do you need?”
She dragged in a breath, then straightened her shoulders. Her gaze never left his. “You.”
Lukas hadn’t heard right. He gave a shake of his head. “What?”
“That’s right, Lukas. Make me repeat it.” Her mouth twisted. “You, damn it. You.”
As she came back toward him, her breasts jiggling beneath the soft cotton of her shirt, Lukas caught his breath. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He remembered what it was like to slide his hands under her shirt, to stroke her there. His fingers curled into fists. He dragged his gaze upward, which turned out to be just as bad. She had devilishly kissable lips.
“For what?” his voice rasped. Because if this had to do with fixing a light or some other damn household emergency, he was going to shoot himself.
“What do you think?” She stopped barely a foot from him, looking up into his eyes, hers challenging him the way she always had as a kid. He didn’t think of her as a kid now. He hadn’t thought of her as a kid for years. All he really thought was how much he wanted to take that extra step, haul her into his arms and feel those soft breasts against his bare chest, press the fierceness of his desire hard against her.
“Holly.” He shut his eyes and ground his teeth in frustration.
“Mmm?” Why the hell did her voice sound almost like a purr? Was that her breath he felt against his collarbone?
“Holly!” he protested, strangling on her name.
Her hand came up, went flat against his chest and pushed. He took a step back into his apartment. Holly followed.
“Holly,” he warned. “Don’t start something you’re not going to finish.”
“I intend to finish.” She sounded almost fierce and she was still close enough that he felt her breath on his bare chest. “Why did you ask me to move in?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I’ve got space. I need a gallery manager. I figured you could do that.”
“I have no clue how to manage a gallery.”
“Then why did you take the job?” he demanded. She wasn’t the only one who could push. Two could play this game, damn it.
“Because it gave me an excuse.” Holly edged even closer. “We want an excuse, don’t we, to get what we really want?” Her voice was soft, enticing, and just a little edgy.
Lukas’s breath caught in his chest. Her eyes were deep pools of midnight, so deep he felt he could fall straight into them. “What do you mean, what we really want?” he said roughly. Since when had they ever wanted the same thing?
“I told you what I want.” He could hear his heart beat in his chest. “You.”
There was no doubt what she was talking about now. Bed. That was what she was talking about. Sex. Lukas frowned.
“Don’t you act like you don’t want me, Lukas Antonides! Don’t you dare try to pretend you were just doing me a favor, giving me a roof over my head!” She poked a fierce finger into his chest. “Because that isn’t what this is about. Is it?”
Lukas’s jaw tightened. “So, you just want to go to bed? Have sex? And then what?”
Holly shrugged “I don’t know. If it’s good, maybe we could do it again?” She looked almost hopeful.
And Lukas almost laughed. It would be good. He had no doubt about that. But he still didn’t move. “Say we do,” he said almost conversationally, which was a far cry from the way his body was clamoring to do just that, “go to bed. Have sex. More than once,” he clarified. “What then? What’s the point?”
Holly’s eyes went wide. “What’s the point? It’s sex, for heaven’s sake! That is the point! We go to bed—multiple times, if necessary—and we get it out of our systems. Once and for all!”
