Whoa.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

I was digging deeper than ever to bury that.

“I’d never f**k you over, steal your money. No f**kin’ way.”

And even deeper to bury that.

“Please, Luke, get off me.”

To my surprise he did, sliding off to my side. I immediately turned my back to him and scooted away several inches. He wanted to sleep with me fine, we’d sleep. Then tomorrow, I was moving to Wyoming.

Luke had other ideas.

His arm slid under me, hooked at my waist and hauled me back into his body. The second I made contact, his body pressed into mine and his other arm went around me.

“I want her back,” he said into my hair and his words made me shiver. I had to close my eyes tight to stop my tears and my thoughts.

He went on. “I’ve decided I like the bitchy Ava, the way you throw your attitude around is sexy as hell, but I still want the old Ava back.”

“She’s gone,” I whispered again, do not ask me why.

His arms tightened and his mouth came to my ear.

“She’s right here.”

* * * * *

You would have thought I’d never get to sleep after that but somehow I did.

Deeper in the night, when it was still dark, my body moved again not of its own volition.

Sometime during the night we’d come face-to-face. Arms around me, he rolled me over his body and to his other side. Again he hooked my leg over his hip.

“Why do you do that?” I whispered sleepily as I wrapped my arm around his waist, slid the fingers of my other hand into the hair at his chest and pressed in close to his warm, hard body.

He might have answered but I didn’t hear him because I was already back to sleep.

* * * * *

I woke and the light was trying to force its way through my shades.

I was back in the position I’d woken up in yesterday, tight against Luke’s side, arm wrapped around his abs, leg thrown over his thighs.

Shit.

I tilted my head and looked at him to see that he was still asleep. I didn’t have clear vision but even with the mini-blur his face in sleep somehow still looked hard.

I rolled away and he moved into the space I left. I stilled and looked at him but he didn’t wake.

I grabbed my glasses (kickass, black-rimmed, oval-framed, D&G) from the nightstand, yanked my thin, yellow-green, cotton cardigan off the hook on the back of the door and got the hell out of there.

I went to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed and flossed and settled my hair in a less messy but still tangled bundle on top of my head.

I put on my glasses and shrugged on the cardigan as I went downstairs to the kitchen, grabbed myself a cold diet soda from the fridge and started some coffee. I cut up fruit, enough for both Luke and me, tossed his in a bowl and put it in the fridge. I dumped a couple of globs of yogurt on mine, sprinkled it with my homemade granola (delicious with tons of sesame seeds and almonds) and did what I did every morning when it was semi-warm.

I took my bowl and diet soda, went to the back porch, sat on the bright cushion of my wicker loveseat with my heels to the edge and my knees pointed skyward. Then I stared at the sun hitting my yard and, while eating, planned my day.

First up, get rid of Luke.

Second, go workout with Riley.

Third, get some work done.

Fourth, learn how to become a lesbian.

“Babe,” I heard and my head twisted to see Luke standing in the door to the porch wearing nothing but his cargo pants, belt not done (and neither was the top button) and an intriguing trail of black hair disappearing into his waistband.

God, he was f**king hot.

So much for becoming a lesbian.

“Hey,” I said.

He gave me a sexy half-grin.

I got up and walked to him. He moved out of my way as I went into the kitchen and put my empty bowl in the sink.

“You want coffee?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

He was standing, arms crossed, hip against the counter, watching me move.

Ee-yikes!

I pulled down a cup ignoring his eyes on me (or trying, and, admittedly, failing). “You want some breakfast? Fruit, yogurt and granola?”

“Sounds good.”

I nodded and poured coffee.

“Do you take sugar or milk?”

“Black.”

I nodded again and handed him his coffee without looking at him. Then I went to the fridge to get his fruit and the yogurt, all the while gabbing.

“Sofia tried to start drinking coffee at twelve, she thought it was cool,” I told him just for something to say because I was flipping way the hell out. I set the bowl down, grabbed a spoon from the drawer and opened the yogurt. “Mom told her, if she did she would grow chest hair.” My eyes moved to his chest then lifted to his face. “When did you start drinking coffee?” I asked.

“When I was twelve.”

I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it, it was funny.

I started to pile globs of yogurt on his fruit still smiling.

“Babe,” he called.

“What?” I kept my head bent to my task.

“Ava.”

I turned to him still smiling. I should have paid attention to what was happening with Luke and not the yogurt.

His face was hard but his eyes were ink.

Uh-oh.

“Luke –”

He pulled the yogurt out of my hand, put it on the counter and then took the spoon and tossed it in the bowl.

I moved to take a step back again reacting too late. He leaned in, his arm went around my waist and he drew me to his body. His other hand went up my back and into the hair at the base of my head.

I pulled back and his arms tightened, moving me forward.

“This isn’t a good idea,” I whispered, watching his lips come toward me.

“This is a f**king great idea,” he muttered.

Then he kissed me.

For your information, the hard kiss Luke gave me to shut me up was nothing like this.

Yes, his lips were hard but they were also effective.

Coupled with his tongue, they were ultra effective.

It took like two seconds before my knees buckled. He took my weight and I lifted my arms to wrap them around his neck, the fingers of one hand sliding across his spiky hair.

At first he teased me with his tongue, playing with me, making me want it and then taking it away so I went after it. The minute my tongue entered his mouth, he sucked it in deeper.

Ho-ly, f**king, shit.

I didn’t mean to but I moaned into his mouth, got up on tiptoe and pressed myself against him full frontal.