Lucas chuckles. “Too busy for that, but one day I hope to. I used to love working with my hands. My dad has a woodworking studio at his cabin, and I made what he tells me passes for an ‘adequate’ fruit bowl a few years ago.”
“You should go back,” I say before I can stop myself. “Creativity is good for the soul.”
His eyes are shining as the stars begin to glimmer above our heads. The torches are burning low, and he leans back in his chair just watching me for the longest time.
I fight the urge to shift my weight, waiting for him to say something more. But he doesn’t speak again, that darkness coming into his eyes that I can’t quite get a read on.
Slowly, he stands, reaching out a hand to me again, and I rise, following him over the sand and up to the tree line.
There’s a picnic blanket laid out beneath the palm trees with multicolored tassels all around the edge. Lowering to his knees, Lucas pulls me gently down beside him as he curls a strand of hair behind my ear. That mesmerizing gaze stays focused on me until he sighs.
“I’ve had a wonderful night.” He says it so quietly I have to strain to hear him.
“Me too,” I reply, but he looks up at me questioningly as if he doesn’t believe me.
“I’d be happy just to lie here with you and stare at the stars all night,” he murmurs.
But my body is thrumming with latent energy, desperate for him to touch me. I never thought I would be so turned on by another person, but Lucas is proving to be more of a puzzle every day.
“I thought you wanted a do-over,” I say coyly, and the uncertainty fades away as he licks his lips.
“I did say that, didn’t I?” he says, rubbing his hands over my shoulders. “And who am I to deny you anything?”
His fingers move behind my neck, and his thumb comes to rest at the base of it, rubbing there gently.
“I want you to imagine this is the first time we met. And I wasn’t such a brutish oaf.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” I say firmly, and his fingers move beneath my chin.
“Good.”
His mouth finds mine, but there’s no urgency in it. He’s soft and gentle, worshipping me with his hands as he slowly undoes my dress, pulling off my wet bikini. He’s leisurely with his movement, slow and steady, his eyes roaming all over me as he licks his lips again.
Soon, I’m lying naked beneath him, as he strips off his clothes, throwing them carelessly aside.
“Are you cold?” he asks as he lowers over my body.
“No,” I say, and he runs a hand over my stomach.
“God, you are the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.”
I lie watching him for what feels like hours as he teases me, touches me, and licks at my skin and body until I’m losing my mind with need.
He lowers himself down to my legs, pushing them gently apart as he begins to lap at my entrance. It’s gentle, caring, and unbearable, as I imagine a time when we might have met in different circumstances.
I love the softness in his touch, but I’m writhing beneath him in minutes, desperate for him to fuck me. I need him to put things back to the way they were, when he didn’t look at me in that longing way that makes my stomach flip.
What does he want from me? I thought I knew, and now I’m not so sure.
He rises up my body, rubbing his cock against me as he closes his eyes.
“I’m gonna go slow,” he says, and I groan as he chuckles quietly. “You want something else?”
I can’t speak, my fingers pulling at the tops of his thighs as I try to pull him inside me, but he won’t move.
“I’m gonna worship you, Amelia. I’m going to push in so slowly you’ll be begging me by the end.”
I give a shuddering sigh as his mouth finds mine, his tongue caressing, his lips soft and sensual against me. It’s the best and worst feeling of my life.
