Page 51 of Relationship Goals

“Can I touch you?” he asks, his blue eyes on mine. Waiting, despite the fact that he’s clearly desperate for this, for my permission.

“Please,” I say, and my voice cracks on the word.

He doesn’t touch me, though, not at first. I arch invitingly, scooting forward on the table, and he makes an animalistic noise as he bends down, capturing my nipple in his mouth. Warm heat builds in my core as he sucks the stiff peak, and I want to bury my hands in his dark hair, but the sweatshirt effectively keeps me bound.

He pauses, swearing under his breath, and I rock against his thigh with a wordless sound. With his next breath, he blows a stream of cold air against the wet spot on my tank, and my whole body goes limp and loose.

“Luke,” I gasp.

“So beautiful, Abigail, so sweet.” He lowers his mouth to my other breast, repeating the treatment. I want him to touch me everywhere, put his mouth everywhere. I might explode if he doesn’t, but I don’t want to rush him, either.

It’s too good to rush. He kisses his way up my neck, his rough fingers rolling my nipples under the fabric of my shirt, and when he kisses me again, it’s softer, needier, than I’ve felt him before.

He pulls away, and I’m weighing the possibilities of running straight to my bedroom and stripping naked as he kisses the tip of my nose.

“I have to go,” he says.

“What?” I explode, finally shedding the sweatshirt. “What do you mean?”

He gives me a pained look. “I can’t do this right now.”

Hurt is a slap in the face, and I blink rapidly, trying to come to terms with it. “You mean a relationship? Or sex? Or both? Is it me?”

Luke’s smile is unexpected and slow, but it doesn’t do much to staunch the flow of pain.

“No, it’s not you. Believe me, I want you, Abigail. A relationship with you. Sex with you. Both. But not right now.”

“Oh…did I move too fast?” The hurt lessens gradually as his words sink in.

“No. Fuck, no. You’re…perfect.” He shakes his head, and something dark passes over his expression as I watch him carefully. “I can’t have sex before a game.”

My nose wrinkles. “What?”

“Yeah,” he blows out a breath. “I don’t know, maybe it’s superstitious.”

I glance down at the bulge in the front of his black suit pants. “You’re going to play the whole game with a massive hard-on?”

He winces. “It’ll go away. Eventually.”

I don’t know what to say to that. “And if I wear your jersey to the game? Do I get to see you after?” If I hook one calf around his thigh, sue me. I am not about to let him forget what we could be doing.

“Fuck yes. After. All night.”

“You’re sure?” I ask, bravado dying away as quickly as it came. “I don’t want to…rush you. Or make you feel uncomfortable. Or…I don’t know, ruin things between us because I got impulsive.”

“Abigail.” He presses his big hand against my cheek, his fingertips gently scraping against my scalp. “I like how impulsive you are. I like how you say what’s on your mind and do what you want in the moment. You aren’t going to rush me. I will go at whatever speed you want, even if that means…I don’t know, we cuddle on the couch and eat ice cream or some shit. If you change your mind after the game, that’s your choice.” He pauses, his blue eyes soothing something in my brain. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I think that’s the most words you’ve ever said at one time.”

He raises an eyebrow, because we both know that’s not a real response.

I know I’m dodging, because, damn it, this is scary and new. And exciting.

“I don’t want to eat shit on the couch,” I tack on. “Ice cream, maybe. Shit, no.”

He laughs gently, touching his forehead against mine. “Got it. Tell me you understand this, though.”

I wait for the other shoe to drop. He’s going to tell me he’s too busy for a relationship. That this is just about sex and fun. That he has to focus on the season. That I’m going to be a distraction if I want more.