Page 37 of Relationship Goals

His gaze pins me, our bodies pressed together. Every bit of him that’s hard muscle stands in stark contrast to the curves of my body, and I swallow thickly, desire winding me tight. My skin prickles as his thumb makes slow, deliberate circles where it rests on the small of my back.

“See?” I say, trying to sound casual. “Best first date ever.”

“Like I said,” he answers, one dark eyebrow raised, his eyes dancing with humor, “the bar is in hell.”

“Then why does this feel like heaven?” I try to keep the question light, casual, but it comes out breathy and low, and something changes in his eyes.

The air goes taut between us, and before I can talk myself out of it, I’m tilting my face up.

“How much of that kiss earlier was for show?” he murmurs, one hand coming up to cup my chin, his thumb still steadily stroking the dip in my lower back.

I’m a live wire, charged and dangerous, electric and ready to make things happen.

“All of it,” I say. “But not for the paparazzi.”

The blue eyes fastened on mine darken, and his hand splays across my back, pressing me closer to him.

For you, I want to say.It was for you.

His fingertips tighten on my chin, just enough to send a shiver of anticipation through me, and then his mouth meets mine. Soft, first, a featherlight brush against my lips, and it’s like dipping a toe into a perfect pool on a hot summer’s day.

It’s not enough.

My hands tighten on his waist. He groans, his hand going from my chin to my neck, the possessiveness of the gesture taking me by surprise…but not in a bad way. I like it. A lot. I moan in response.

The kiss deepens, his tongue sweeping against my lower lip, and I open my mouth reflexively. I feel my way up the back of his shirt, thesheer power of his body at my fingertips, begging to be touched. He steps near, his hand tightening around my throat, his body looming over mine.

Need spirals through me, and I tug him closer, until I can feel the beat of his heart through his skin. His other hand brushes over my shoulder, whisper-soft over the curve of my breast in the silk shirt, my body instantly reacting to the barest hint of his touch.

My nails dig into the fabric of his shirt, and I slide my hands up his back, bracketing them against the delicious muscles of his shoulder blades. Goose bumps pebble along my skin as his hold shifts.

His palms run down my back, his hands finally landing on my ass.

Everything in me seems to fixate on each single sensation. The slide of his mouth against mine, the wine-soaked taste of him, the way his breathing turns ragged the longer he holds me in his arms.

When he pulls away, my eyes flutter open, the reality of the moment crashing over me. My body still searches for his, aching—and he’s watching me carefully, that openness I thought I saw in his eyes only a minute ago gone, shuttering.

My mouth opens, a question on my tongue.

“I should go,” he says roughly. He’s looking past me, at the food on the counter, then the door to the entryway.

At anything but me.

“Oh.” The world’s shifted in half a second, the possibilities narrowing down to this reality, where Luke walks away, leaving me breathless and wanting.

“You have an early morning. I don’t want your Pilates instructor upset.”

“Right.” I feel brittle, like the tension spun me too tight. If I move too fast, think too hard about this, I’ll shatter.

His gaze finally skates back over me. Air whooshes from my lungs in relief. My equilibrium is a mess, and I am 99 percent sure it’s not from being dipped.

“Can I see you again?” His mouth scrunches up, like he’s tasted something sour, the expression so at odds with the question that it takes me a moment to realize what he’s even asked.

“Only if youwantto,” I snort, putting both hands up between us. “Don’t feel like youhaveto or anything.”

“I do want to, damn it.”

I squint at him. “You’re sending mixed signals again, Wolfe. Bark and bite.”