Page 122 of Another Girl Lost

“Takeout. Again. Can’t take any credit.” He stood so close, his energy radiated over my skin. He was hungry for me. I knew when a man wanted a woman.

I set my wine bottle on the kitchen counter and faced him.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked.

A drink would buy me time and maybe provide a little liquid courage. But a delay was another chance to lose my nerve. And I didn’t want to run this time. I wanted this. I wanted normal.

“No.” I stepped close to him and took his hand in mine and threaded my fingers through his.

“What do you want?” he asked carefully.

“To see my painting in your bedroom.”

A brow arched. His breathing slowed. “What’s that mean?”

“I’m hoping you can show me.”

His fingers tightened slightly around mine. “I can show you as much as you want to see.”

“Good.”

He kissed me on the lips and guided me down the hallway to a bedroom dominated by a neatly made king-size bed. I was vaguely aware ofa large dresser, an intricate rug with blues and reds, a chair, and an open closet full of suits. My painting hung on the wall across from his bed.

“We can take it slow,” he said.

“I don’t want to back out.” My desires were too hazy to define.

He traced the line of my jaw. “You can if you want to. It’s not a race.”

I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. His gaze flickered to the full breasts brimming in the cups of my white bra. I reached for the front hook and unfastened it.

His hand smoothed up my waist to the underside of my left breast. He cupped it while leaning in and kissing me. My heart thrashed in my chest, my cheeks burned with blush pink, and my desire teased to life.

I slid my hand to his chest and along his jawline. “That feels good.”

“Tell me if it doesn’t,” he said.

I touched the buttons on his shirt. When all were unfastened, he shrugged off the brushed cotton with a leashed impatience that was exciting and frightening. I kicked off my shoes and reached for my waistband. I wasn’t as anxious for the sex as I was to know how this was all going to end. I wanted to skip to the ending of this story.

His hand returned to my side as if it belonged there, and he pulled me into an embrace. I tensed, but I held steady, and then I slowly relaxed into him. Progress.

This time I deepened the kiss and pressed my body against his. If I left now, I feared I’d be locked in my solitude forever. Carefully, I cupped his ass.

“Still sure?” His voice sounded strained.

“Yes.”

I moved to the bed and pulled back the comforter and sheets and climbed in the center. Seconds behind me, he climbed on the bed and planted hands on either side of my face. As his erection pressed against my belly, he kissed my lips, throat, and each breast.

He rose, his eyes dark, wanting. He opened a bedside table and reached for a condom. Tanner had never used condoms. He hated theway they made him feel. Better to be natural. That had skimmed on another layer of fear. What if I got pregnant? Would a baby tie me to him forever? I’d had three menstrual cycles while I’d been in Tanner’s room. Each time I’d wept with relief.

Luke slid on the condom. Nothing to bind me to Luke other than a few scattered memories. I closed my eyes.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

When I looked at him, his face was inches from mine. The intensity of his stare was exciting and daunting.

“I want you to see me,” he said.

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