Page 31 of Come to Me
This is ridiculous. I need to calm down. This is a lot all at once, but I can do it. And I can enjoy the next 24 hours.
Twenty-four hours with Luke, twenty-four hours until he's gone, and I'm here all by myself.
I repeat my mantra, a cheesy new-age therapy technique.I will keep my head up and my heart open.I whisper it three times, taking a deep breath between each. It's silly, but I feel a little calmer.
Maybe I can do this.
I close my eyes and listen to the water pounding on my neck. It's warm and hard and steady.I will keep my head up and my heart open.
I will talk to Luke.
I won't lock him out.
But not now, not yet, not until I have a better handle on this.
When I open my eyes, I squint at the light in the room.
Deep breath. Ground yourself.
I am Alyssa Summers. I am in New York City, my home for the next six months.
I can do this.
Whatever this is.
The door creaks open but I don't turn towards it.
"I'm not ready to talk yet," I call out.
"I'm not interested in talking." Luke's voice is serious, low and deep.
I bite my lip.
He wants to not talk with me. God, I hope he means what I think he means.
"You know, Ally," he continues. "I almost can't decide if I want to step in the shower with you or if I want to enjoy the view."
Yes.
"There's a better view in here," I say hoarsely.
"So, there is."
My heart pounds against my chest. When did it get so damn hot in here?
He opens the shower door, the steam escaping into the rest of the bathroom.
Damn, he looks so fucking sexy. His hair is messy and his skin glistens with a faint layer of sweat.
Sometimes I forget how irresistible he is. Every part of him is perfect--his sculpted shoulders, his strong chest, his perfectly chiseled abs.
The tattoos that add that edge I didn't know I liked before him.
My breath grows heavy.
I need this. I need this so fucking badly.
He slides his boxers to the floor. Jesus. He's hard already.
