Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
MELISSA
“You could never disappoint me, Melissa,” Luke says softly.
I look up from the floor and meet his eye.
He’s looking sexy as sin in a forest green shirt that brings out the green in his eyes, and I can hardly believe I stopped him.
My body certainly doesn’t understand it, and there’s still a tightness in my belly and a throbbing between my legs.
But when he started to take off my shirt, I remembered that the last time Luke saw me naked, I was twenty-one.
And I can’t bear to watch his face when he sees how I’ve changed.
There are the stretch marks, and the pouch of skin on my lower belly that will probably never go away, regardless of how many sit-ups I do.
The softness of my upper arms and thighs.
Luke will try to hide what he thinks, because that’s the sort of man he is, but I’ll know.
You could never disappoint me, Melissa.
It’s the right thing to say, and I’m sure he thinks he means it, but somehow I can’t believe it.
“I look different than I did in undergrad,” I explain.
If there’s any chance for this to work, he has to be prepared.
Forewarned. “I kind of let myself go after the divorce. I’ve gained weight, haven’t exercised,” I continue, just so there’s no misunderstanding.
“I’ve been trying to get back in shape, but I still have a ways to go, and—”
“Shut up, Melissa,” Luke says hoarsely. “Your body’s a fucking wet dream.”
Oh. Well, then. A man might lie and call a girl pretty if he was trying be nice, but calling my body a fucking wet dream? There’s a raw honesty there that makes me believe Luke’s speaking the truth.
So when he says come here, in that gruff, familiar voice, I move across the couch toward him.
And as soon as I’m within his reach, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. It’s as though he knows how hard it was for me to admit that I’m nervous about my body, and he’s trying to give me the comfort of his.
“I must have been doing something wrong,” he murmurs in my ear. “If you thought there was a chance I’d be disappointed by the sight of you naked.”
He rubs a hand up and down my spine, and I melt into his chest. He’s muscular, but not obscenely so; just in the way of a man who’s always been athletic, and could carry your luggage or your toddler without breaking a sweat.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers huskily. “And you’re even more beautiful now than you were at twenty-one.”
“Really?” I ask. “You’re not just saying that because you’re hoping to get me into bed?”
I can feel his chest shake as he chuckles. “Hell, no. I mean, of course I’m hoping to get you into bed, but that’s not why I’m saying it. I’m a man, Milly. I like curves.”
He adjusts our position a little, putting a little distance between us so he can run his fingertips over my stomach.
“And your curves are sexy as hell.” His hand moves lower across my belly, over the stubborn pouch of skin that’s driven me crazy ever since my first pregnancy.
But now, with Luke’s fingers on me, even that extra skin feels sexy.
He adjusts me again so I’m straddling his lap, and I feel his erection against my lower belly. He’s obviously not faking that, or the way his breath catches when I shift against him. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt desirable, but there’s no doubt that Luke Carlton wants me.
But even though he’s hard as a rock, when I told him to stop, he did. And instead of trying to pressure me, he took me in his arms, stroked my back, and told me I was beautiful.
Not only beautiful. He told me my body was a fucking dream.
Almost unconsciously, I shift my hips forward and roll against him, and the movement sends a jolt of pleasure straight down to my toes. Luke’s hands move down to cup my ass.
“Okay?” he asks hoarsely.
“Harder,” I mutter. He snuffles a laugh and squeezes my ass, pulling me more firmly against him. My hips seem to be moving of their own volition, grinding against his cock. The denim of our jeans provides the perfect friction, right where I need it.
Troy used to complain that I was slow to warm up, but now I feel like I’m about to catch fire. My panties are drenched, and I’m throbbing for Luke. He smells of sweat and musk and man, and I can’t get enough.
“I want you,” I say, in a voice that I barely recognize as my own.
“Yes, Milly,” he says roughly.
I move off his lap to reach the fly of his jeans, and feel him shudder as I pull down his zipper. He lifts his hips so I can pull off his pants, then reaches up to peel off his shirt.
The sight of Luke in nothing but black boxers steals my breath. Broad shoulders, muscled pecs, ridged abs; his upper body is a thing of beauty, and under different circumstances I could spend hours enjoying it.
Right now, though, my attention is caught by the package inside the boxers, and I slip my fingers under his waistband and take him in my hand. His cock is hard and hot and thick. I give it a couple of exploratory strokes, and it pulses under my fingers.
“Enough,” Luke says with a groan. “Or I’m gonna come in your hand, Milly.”
The way this is going, I think I could come from just the sound of his voice, but I want him inside me.
“Condom?” I breathe.
“Bedroom.”
My legs are shaky with desire as I follow him to the bedroom, and I watch impatiently as he pulls a foil packet from a drawer in the nightstand. He takes off his boxers, and I gasp at the sight of his erection.
“Okay?” he asks, looking at me in concern.
“Yeah,” I reply, but he isn’t convinced.
“What is it, Milly?”
“It’s just, uh, you’re very big,” I stammer. “And I haven’t been with anyone since Troy, and you’re, uh, bigger than he is.” I feel my cheeks turning red. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t talk about him, but—”
“I don’t mind that kind of comparison,” Luke interrupts with a chuckle. “You can tell me that as often as you want.” He rolls the condom on. “We’ll take it slow.”
But I don’t want to take it slow; I need Luke inside me now. My skin feels too tight, feverish, and I’m surprised to realize I’m still fully dressed. After my resistance to taking my top off, Luke hasn’t tried to remove any more of my clothing; I’ll have to do that myself.
I no longer care about how I look naked—I no longer care about anything except the ache between my legs. My clothes are standing between me and Luke, and they need to come off.
Thirty seconds later my sweater, bra, jeans, panties, and socks are on the floor. Luke is staring at me, open-mouthed.
“Beautiful,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful, Milly.”
We move at the same time, a convergence of desperate hands, lips, and tongues. As we fall onto the bed together, I reach for his cock again. “I need you inside me, Luke.”
“I’m not going to last, Milly,” he warns. “Let me warm you up first.” His clever fingers are doing something delicious to my inner thigh, but it isn’t enough.
“Please, Luke.”
His fingers move higher still, and he slips one inside.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he says in surprise. He slips a second finger in, and I feel myself clench around him. His thumb finds my clit, teasing and rubbing. Bringing me to the brink.
I’m so close, but I don’t want to come on his fingers.
“Please,” I beg again.
He removes his fingers and levers himself over me, and seconds later, I feel the thick head of his cock at my entrance.
It’s a tight fit, and I reach down to help guide him in.
When my fingers brush his abdomen, I realize he’s trembling.
He wants me just as much as I want him, and it’s taking every ounce of his restraint to hold back.
“I can take it,” I breathe. “Fuck me, Luke.”
His control breaks, and with one decisive thrust, he buries himself deep. Filling me. He’s big, but I can take him. There’s a twinge of pain as I stretch around him, but it’s the most exquisite pain I’ve ever felt.
And then he starts to move, and my mind empties of everything except the pleasure taking over my body. I move with him, lifting my hips so my clit rubs against him with every thrust.
The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, and seconds later, I feel the shudder of Luke’s release. He collapses on top of me before rolling to the side, pulling me with him so we don’t lose the connection.
And as I lie next to him, sated and spent, I finally feel like I’ve come home.
We lie together for a while, enjoying the feel of each other. Luke finally, reluctantly, pulls out and takes care of the condom. When that’s done, he comes back to bed and takes me in his arms.
“It’s always been you, you know,” he murmurs in my ear.
“What?” I ask, wondering if I heard him properly.
“It’s always been you,” he repeats simply. “You’ve been under my skin since I gave you my sweatshirt in high school.”
I turn so I can see his face. His hazel eyes are sincere, but much as I’d like to believe he’s spent the past ten years pining for me, it just doesn’t make sense. “What about Sloane?”
He sighs. “Sloane and I broke up because she wanted to get married and I didn’t, and you know why I didn’t?”
I shake my head mutely.
“She wasn’t you. At the beginning, I thought it might work. I wanted it to work, but it just didn’t. I knew what love felt like, because I had it with you, and with Sloane, it never came close.”
I don’t answer him for a moment, because it still doesn’t make sense. Although technically I was the one who broke up with Luke, I only did it because I knew he wanted to move on. His decision to stay in Somerset for med school instead of joining me in Toronto had made that pretty clear.
“When we broke up,” I say slowly. “You knew I had another year of undergrad in Toronto, and I was hoping to stay for a Master’s.
There was no way I could do a grad degree in computer science in Somerset.
So when you decided to stay here for med school—without any discussion—I thought you were sending me a message. “
Luke closes his eyes for a moment before he replies. “I didn’t get into med school in Toronto, Melissa.”
“Yes, you did!” I answer reflexively, because my brain can hardly contemplate the alternative.
“No. I didn’t.”
Oh, no. No. That’s not possible. I’m sure he told me he got into med school in Toronto. He must have. Luke’s brilliant, capable, kind; exactly who you’d want as your doctor. Every med school in the country must have wanted him.
I cast my mind back to the phone call. Even though ten years have passed, Luke’s words are still etched in my memory.
“I’ve decided to stay in Somerset for med school, Melissa. It’s a smaller program, so I’ll be able to get to know everyone . . .”
I assumed Luke got into med school in Toronto, but he never actually told me he did. That’s why Sophie gave me a funny look when I said Luke didn’t even care enough to come to Toronto. She knew he didn’t get in.
He didn’t get in, and then I broke up with him.
I’m speechless for a moment, paralyzed by shock and shame and regret.
“Oh, Luke, I’m sorry,” I finally tell him. “So sorry. I really thought you got into Toronto. You must have thought I was so selfish, and heartless, and–”
“No,” he interrupts. “Never that, Milly. It wasn’t your fault. I knew what you thought, but I was too proud to tell you I didn’t get in. I just . . . couldn’t tell you I’d failed, I guess.”
“You didn’t fail, Luke,” I protest. “Toronto made a mistake, that’s all. And I shouldn’t have assumed.”
He shrugs. “I came to my senses about a month later. I was going to explain, ask if you’d consider another few years of long distance.”
“Of course I’d have done long distance,” I exclaim. “If I’d known . . . I thought you wanted to break up.”
“I came to Toronto,” he says quietly. “And saw you with Troy. You were walking out of your apartment building, and he had his arm around you. You looked really happy together.”
“Oh, Luke.”
“I should have fought for you,” he says. “But when I saw you with Troy, I couldn’t think straight. I thought you’d already moved on, so I turned around and drove home.”
“You wouldn’t have had to fight,” I admit.
“If I’d seen you that day . . . Luke, I was only with Troy because I was trying to get over you.
” I think of how differently our lives might have turned out if I’d seen him outside my apartment that day.
We’d probably have gotten back together.
Gotten married. We might even have kids together.
On the other hand, if I’d seen Luke that day I wouldn’t have Claire and Liam, so I can’t really regret the way things turned out.
“Don’t play the what-if game, Melissa,” Luke says, as though he’s read my mind. “You’ll drive yourself crazy.”
“Yeah. I guess. But Luke . . .”
Before I can finish my thought, Luke leans in and starts kissing my neck, nibbling and kissing until I can barely focus on anything else.
“Are you trying to distract me?” I ask.
“Mmmm,” he mutters. “Is it working?” He reaches down to cup my ass and pull me in closer, and I realize he’s hard again.
“Maybe,” I admit. “But Luke—”
“How much time do we have?” he interrupts. “Do you have to get back for the kids?”
“They’re sleeping over at my parents’.”
He grunts with satisfaction before turning his attention back to the sensitive spot at the base of my neck.
“Claire might notice if you give me a hickey,” I protest halfheartedly, because whatever he’s doing feels amazing. “And my mom will definitely notice it when I pick the kids up, and—”
“Wear a turtleneck,” he says unrepentantly.