Our kisses went on for minutes, just kisses, even though they were hot, sensual. I pulsed with need for more even as I was thankful Luke was reining himself in and going slow. As much as my body craved his touch and more, I wasn’t ready for it. He seemed to understand that.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when he broke the contact of our mouths and leaned his forehead to mine, his breathing heavy as his lips curved into a smile.
“We’re good at that,” he said barely above a whisper.
“We are,” I admitted on an exhale.
“If we don’t stop now”—he brushed a stray strand of my hair away—“we might not stop. I want you so much, Mags, but not standing up in a barn. Not for our first time.”
My mouth went dry thinking about that as I stuck my hand in his back pocket and pulled him tighter into me. Tempted. And also terrified. Not of Luke. Just like I knew he wasn’t manipulative, I knew he wouldn’t physically hurt me or anything like that. I was scared to trust him. He’d shattered me once. He could shatter me again.
“Who said there would be a first time?” I finally managed, my own breathing jagged.
A low, sexy growl rolled out of him. “I hope there will be.”
As he straightened, putting a few inches between our faces, looking into my eyes, there was a part of me that hoped so too. Even if it would be a dumb move.
I brushed my fingers over his jaw, noticing the coarseness of his facial hair. “We’re supposed to be talking barn details.”
“Right. Barn details.” He put more space between us, grinning like a kid who’d stolen a cookie from a cookie jar.
“A question for you,” I said. “Have you ordered furniture for the getting-ready rooms?”
He frowned. “I haven’t even thought about furniture. I’ve been focused on electricity and plumbing and big-picture things.”
“You should order furniture in advance to ensure it arrives before Christmas Eve.”
“How long does it take?” He looked slightly panicked as he paced away from me, turned, came back.
“It depends. But you’ll want several sofas for relaxing, large mirrors, ottomans, chairs, tables.”
“Right. I accounted for that stuff in the business loan but hadn’t thought about ordering early.”
“My office furniture took several weeks.”
“Shit. We’re only, like, six weeks out, aren’t we?”
“And there’s a major holiday in there.”
He ran his hand over his mouth and beard.
I counted to ten silently, thinking before I spoke. “I can help you if you want.”
He chuckled. “And charge me two hundred an hour?”
“I’d shop with your credit card for free,” I said, grinning, but he didn’t smile back.
“Yeah,” he said, expelling a breath. “I’d appreciate some help.”
“Hey, one thing I’m good at is shopping. We’ll get it taken care of.”
“Thanks.”
“So what other details did you keep me after class for?” I asked lightly.
“Right.” Luke stepped to the external wall, to the space between two windows where we’d discussed creating a first-look or photo op area. “I was wondering if there’s some kind of wall treatment we could use here and on the opposite side that would be permanent and serve as sort of a blank slate for decor. You mentioned a wood slab panel. Does it have to be removable? Or could we build features into the wall? I’m not sure what, but I’m open to ideas.”
I turned and considered the space. It was about twelve to fourteen feet between the windows, a blank canvas. “It could use something there permanently, couldn’t it?”
