I looked back at him, confused. “Organizing your paperwork?” I asked.

He stared at me a second as if three identical noses had just popped out on my face then his head dropped back. I could almost hear him asking for patience from the divine. His chin came back down so he could look at me.

“I mean worryin’ where the f**k you were and if you were okay considerin’ the last look I had of you, you had tears in your eyes.”

Oh. That.

“I’m over that,” I lied, so not over it and so never going to tell him what I wasn’t over. Not in a million years. “It was a girl thing,” I lied again for good measure. In my experience, men hated to talk about “girl things”. I was hoping even the brutally honest ones would shy way the hell away from any discussion of a “girl thing”.

He stared at me and I got the impression he totally knew I was lying.

Finally, and thankfully, he decided to let it go. “Zano fed you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Good. Now I can f**k you.”

My knees did a little wobble. “We didn’t have dessert,” I stalled.

His head (and, I must remind you, his fantastic mouth) started coming toward mine.

“Glad he left that to me,” he said before he kissed me.

* * * * *

It wasn’t like last night where it was all go, go, go or shocking but world-tilting surprise or all about Luke giving then taking.

This time Luke went slow and we took turns. He let me touch him, taste him, stroke him, take him in my mouth and I liked it, a lot. He had an unbelievable body and, let me tell you, it was fun as hell to explore.

When he was through letting me, he flipped me over, spread my legs and settled between them. I felt one of his knees come up for better leverage and I was certain he was going to slam into me again. I was ready for it, I wanted it and I stared at him in a fog, my body burning, nearly begging for it.

He didn’t slam into me. Instead, I felt him right there, ready to come inside when his hands came up to either side of my face. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, he slid inside me watching my face the whole time. My lips parted and I held my breath as he slowly filled me until he was buried deep.

I waited for him to move.

He didn’t. He just kept watching me.

“Luke,” I whispered, pressing my h*ps into him.

“Be still, Ava,” he said then his mouth came to mine and he asked, “Do you feel that?”

Yeah, I felt it. It felt great.

“Yeah,” I told him.

I felt him smile against my mouth but he said, “You don’t feel it.”

“I feel it.”

“Then you don’t get it.”

I wanted to get it but he wasn’t moving.

I licked my lips and since my lips were close to his lips, I licked his lips too.

His eyes went molten and he moved, slowly at first then faster then harder until we both came, breathing heavy in each other’s mouths. It was the first time in my life that I cl**axed with a partner at the same time. If I thought the other sex was mind-blowing, I was wrong. Reaching orgasm with Luke was mind-blowing, mind-altering and world-tilting all at the same time.

I was so screwed.

After, his mouth at the skin behind my ear, he murmured, “You ever run away from me with tears in your eyes again, Ava, I’ll hunt you down. Do you understand?”

I didn’t move. This wasn’t sweet, after-sex talk. His voice was low and husky but he was being perfectly serious.

“Do you understand?” he pushed.

I decided it was best to nod. I was unable to process this after a big time orgasm when Luke was still on top of me, when Luke was, at that moment, my whole world.

Mouth still at my ear, he said in The Voice, “I’m bein’ patient, babe, but pretty soon you’re gonna have to let me in.”

No way in hell. He was already in as far as he was going to get, literally and figuratively.

“Don’t call me babe,” I said to take the post-sex conversation away from me letting him in.

I meant it this time in a way I didn’t mean it before. I didn’t want him to call me “babe” and Jules “babe”. It made it less special. In fact, it made it not special at all.

His head came up and he looked down at me. His eyes searched my face and then he dropped to his side, taking me with him.

When we were face-to-face and he had my leg wrapped around his hip, he asked, “What’s this now?”

“Nothing, just don’t call me babe. I don’t like it,” I lied. I had really loved it before, if I was honest with myself. Now, I hated it.

His fingers sifted through the hair at the side of my head and he kept his hand at the back and twisted my hair in his fist.

“You mean it,” he said.

“Yeah,” I told him.

“I’m not even close, am I?” he asked, what I thought bizarrely.

“Close to what?”

“To gettin’ through to you.”

Whoa.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Stop right there.

Or, wait. Maybe, not.

“No, Luke. You’re not. I tried to tell you but you won’t listen to me,” I pressed closer to him and lied through my goddamn teeth. “You’re never going to get close. Trust me, it’s not gonna happen.”

“It’ll happen.”

“It won’t.”

“Yeah, it will.” He sounded sure of himself.

Holy cramoly!

Why me? What did I do?

I dipped my chin and tried to pull away but his arms got tight. I struggled a bit just in case he wasn’t in the mood to overpower me. I found, as ever, he was very much in the mood to overpower me.

Tom Petty (obviously Luke had Greatest Hits on random) started singing “Learning to Fly”. I gave up the struggle and listened to Tom.

After a few minutes, I said to Luke’s throat, “You want some ice cream?” I tilted my head back to look at him.

He tipped his chin down to look at me and said, “Yeah.”

He let me go and put on his sweatpants. I put on my underwear and his zip up sweatshirt.

We ate ice cream out of the tub, two spoons, Luke holding the tub, me dipping in while we sat on his kitchen counter.

And I realized on the third spoonful of peanut butter cup ice cream that I was sitting on the counter top in my pretend happy place.