I must be forgiven for not noticing anything but Luke. I was so caught on the obvious details – his broad chest stretching his shirt, the stubble, the ironed pants – that I didn’t notice the overly large bouquet of roses he holds down at his side. But once my eyes catch them, and then my brain catches up, my breath stops, and that five percent vanishes into mist.
“Oh gosh. They’re so beautiful.”
“For you.” Luke brings the flowers up and steps forward until they’re cradled between us, then he feathers his lips over mine. He’s not demanding in his kiss. There’s no indecency. Just a ‘welcome back into my life’ touch of lips. A ‘thank you for existing’ brush of love.
Wait. Love? No. I meant… like… friendship. With feelings.
Welcome back, five percent.
I accept the bouquet with shaking hands, and bringing them to my nose when he steps back, I take a deep inhale and let my smile crinkle free. “I love them. Thank you.” I lower the flowers once more, stretch forward, and press my glossy red lips to his cheek. “Come on in.”
I take his hand, and lead him across my room to the fridge. The door swings closed behind us, and though Luke follows me most of the way, he hangs back and watches while I grab the hotel’s vase from on top of the fridge. I bring it down with one hand, lay the bouquet on the narrow countertop, and filling the clear glass container, I set it down and gently peel the lace ribbon away so the flowers separate. One at a time, I place them into the water with the tenderest care. One red, one pink. One for lust, and one for feelings. One for sex, and one for the breakfast we would share together the morning after.
“These are really beautiful.” I don’t know if I’m speaking to him, or to myself, but I enjoy arranging my flowers. I enjoy touching each stem, moving them so one pink touches one red. I enjoy the transformation of an ugly glass urn into what will be the centerpiece to my room for the next week or so.
When I finish the arrangement, I take the ribbon, but instead of adding it to the flowers, I make my way toward the bathroom while Luke watches me move.
It’s like its own kind of foreplay. The way his eyes stay on my legs. The way his hands clench by his side, and his jaw tenses.
He could be angry, or he could be uncontrollably turned on. And I truly wouldn’t be able to tell the difference until he touched me.
I stop in front of the mirror in the bathroom, and smiling for the bold mascara and eyeliner work I did before he arrived, and approving of the red lipstick that matches perfectly to the red roses that now sit in my room, I carefully work the ribbon into my hair. Later, when we come back here, he can untie it with careful hands, he can seduce me, and then we can spend a few hours together where nothing is scary, and the only thing we have to think about is each other, and how easily we can give pleasure, at the same time as we receive it.
It takes me a minute to get the ribbon right. There’s a delicate balance between schoolgirl ribbon-in-my-hair, and sexy garter that Luke can later untie while his imagination runs wild.
And the promise that comes with that, the anticipation, leaves me a little breathless.
“Your room is nice.”
As I finish up with my hair, I watch in the mirror as Luke looks around my space. It’s just a single room, but it’s pretty large. King-sized bed, a small couch and a coffee table to go with it. A flatscreen TV on the wall, and not so far from that, the fridge and sink I was just using. The bathroom I stand in is large and chic, which is the complete opposite of what the hotel as a whole is.
On the outside, it’s an outdated building that probably needs a high-pressure wash to clean off a hundred years of dirt and grime. Even the internal halls need a little love. But in this room, at least, they’ve spent money on updates. Living in a hotel for a few months won’t come as a chore when this is the room I get to occupy.
“Bed looks pretty comfy,” Luke says casually.
Snorting, I turn away from the mirror and step back into my room as he trails his fingers along a lacy black bra I tried on earlier and discarded. “Smooth.” I fold my arms and smile. “Are you looking for an invitation into my bed, Luke Hart?”
“Sure. I mean, I probably would have jumped in regardless. But since you’re offering…”
“Charming.”
I nibble on my bottom lip and study him all over. The thick thighs, the broad chest, and muscular arms. Beneath that shirt, I know for a fact tattoos exist, and each one of them means something. I intend to ask later, and I promise to try to make it at least half because I’m genuinely curious, and not entirely because I want to study him.
“Are you analyzing me again, Allyson Moore?” Luke sits on the end of my bed and grabs my discarded bra. It’s bad enough he touches it, but then he brings it to his face and inhales so deep that my toes tingle. “Does it turn you on when you try to get inside my head?”
“Heh.” Nervously, I walk toward the bed, and slow when I’m still a couple of feet away. “I was making a plan to analyze you. Later, after dinner, I would come to you with a series of questions that would help me understand your brain a little more.”
“You just can’t help yourself, huh?” He reaches out with lightning-fast reflexes and wraps his arm around my hips. Then I’m falling, falling with a squeal, until I land in his lap, and his palm stops on the bare skin where my dress should be covering. “You’re wearing a thong for me?”
“No.” I swallow down my nerves and meet his eyes. “I’m wearing a thong for me. You just so happen to get to enjoy the view.”
“And I do,” he rumbles low in the back of his throat. “I enjoy the feel, too.” He spiders his fingers along my bare thigh and up to where the material disappears between my legs. “You can continue to dress for you, Ally. And I’ll continue to enjoy the shit out of it.”
“Are you ready to go to dinner yet?” I smile when he presses a kiss to my cheek, and groan when his teeth venture to my neck. “Jesus.”
“Five minutes of this first,” he breathes out. “I’ve waited all day to taste you again.” His teeth sting my sensitive flesh, but then he follows it with his tongue, and my legs drop open, even against my wishes. I didn’t come to him just now with the intention to be laid out and open within seconds. But that’s where we’re at anyway, and though some part of my brain knows better, my body says Who cares? Enjoy it. “Did you have a good day?”
“Mm.” I don’t fight the throbbing that pulses through my body. Instead, I let Luke do as he pleases, with his hands, with his mouth. “Interesting day. You?”
“Tiring day. Gym, the pier, then here. I’m soaking up the last of the sunshine before winter gets here and kicks our asses.”
“Maybe I should come out to the lake this weekend. I could tan while you work.”
“Work with a view,” he hums. “Perfect.”
I laugh and elongate my neck. ‘When in Rome’, and all that. “Or tanning with a view. It’s all about perspective. I’d wear a bikini and sunglasses, so we could both look, and no one has to know.”
“Deal. Be there at eleven o’clock. I’ll be coming straight from the gym, so I’ll be extra sweaty for you.”