Page 157 of Relationship Goals

I unpack my bag, and Luke’s hands reach around my stomach, his mouth trailing kisses along the nape of my neck.

“Missed you so much.” His low voice against the sensitive skin under my ear makes me shiver. “So glad you’re here.”

I turn around, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“This place looks good on you,” I tell him. It does, too. He fits here like it was a missing puzzle piece.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across an entire wall behind him, the A-frame-style living room giving a view of a dark stretch ofbeach and teal waters beyond a gorgeous tree line. It might be A-frame in style, but the so-called cabin is anything but small.

Large beams cross the ceiling, a cream patterned rug softening the heavy wood, a plush couch set off by warmly glowing lamps. There’s a huge stone fireplace on one wall, a cool blue abstract painting hung over it.

It’s stunning and so very Luke.

I inhale, taking in his yummy pine scent that just makes him feel even more a part of this place, like it’s an extension of him.

The stressed lines of his neck and shoulders have relaxed, his smile easier, his laugh less surprised. “It makes me happy to see you like this.”

“Like what?” he murmurs, his nose nuzzling my neck.

“Relaxed. At home. You seem so much happier here.”

“I do love it here,” he says, his hands running up and down my back. I sigh, melting into him as his strong fingers work out the knots there. “But I think, Abigail, that home might be wherever you are.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here.” I smile into his chest. If I could melt into his skin, I would. “I love you.”

It doesn’t matter how often I say it to him, how often he says it back. It always feels like the first time, exciting and bubbly and perfect.

“I love you, too, my precioussss,” he says with a hiss.

I tilt back my head and laugh. “You know, I really shouldn’t love that as much as I do.”

“Mm-hmm. It’s a bit weird. But that’s why it works.” He kisses the side of my neck, and those warm, fuzzy feelings start to heat into something needier, something much hotter.

“We are a bit weird,” I agree, tilting my head to allow him better access.

“How much longer are you going to be filming?” he asks, his lips brushing against my ear, making me shiver.

A laugh bubbles out, because he’s only asked me this about onemillion times. I love it, though. I love that he wants me with him so badly that he can’t help himself.

“The soccer reshoots should be over in about a month.” I bite my bottom lip, because I have been putting off telling him my latest news until we’re together. “I have to tell you something.”

“You will be on set too much?” The kisses stop, and there’s resignation in the question.

I squeeze him closer, and he makes a soft oomph at the increase in pressure. “Most of the long filming days are done.”

“So I get to see you more?” he asks, his fingers skating between the fine fabric of my blouse and my skin. “Right?”

“Right,” I say, kissing him.

“So what’s the news, then?” He takes a step back, his eyes nearly the same color as the blue-gray sky outside.

“I got the part in the rom-com.” I beam at him, and he whoops, picking me up and spinning me around. “The lead. The romantic lead,” I squeal.

“Of course you fucking did!” he yells, then slaps my ass for good measure. “I told you you would.”

“You’re supposed to tell me things like that,” I protest, laughing.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he says, peppering my mouth with delighted kisses.

---