morning, made her pregnant sister cry? Hadn’t she made her own mother cry the day—
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Lucas frowned, brushed her hair from her face.
“Don’t do that. No. No, please don’t do that! Please, don’t.” Elena clutched him tighter but he firmly held her away.
“You didn’t say no—”
“No!” She took his face in her hands. “You’re sad. Please, please don’t let me make you sad. I make everyone sad and I don’t want to do that to you.”
Luke’s forehead smoothed and his hands came up, cupping her face. “Then don’t,” he said with a shrug and a grin, like it was easy as walking.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, tucked her face into the curve of his shoulder and whispered, “I don’t know how.”
He murmured into her hair. “Want lessons?”
She knew he was kidding, but clutched at his words. “Yes! Yes, I need lessons. I want to be like you, Lucas. I want people to be happy around me. I want people to say things like Al said about you—‘ Elena’s the best woman I know! ’”
“Stop, Elena.” His hands cruised up and down her back in a gesture that soothed and stirred her. “I was teasing. I’m no expert, believe me.”
She straightened her spine, pulled away, trying not to shiver from the lack of contact with him. She backed away, curled herself into the corner of the sofa, pulling up her knees and avoided those intense eyes. “Of course. I—I’m sorry.” Her face burned. She searched for a quick escape. “Oh, I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I’m sure you have things to do so, um, thank you. For today.” She stood up, waited for him to grasp the hint.
He stretched out on the sofa. “Sit down, Elena.”
Sit down? She couldn’t possibly stay in the same room with him and not die of embarrassment. She jerked around, grabbed the cookie plate, fled to the kitchen to scrub off its pattern. Seconds later, his hands clamped down on her shoulders, tried to tug her back against his chest, but she stood stiffly at the sink.
“I’d apologize, but I don’t fully understand what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He thrust out a hand to kill the water. “Look at me, Elena.”
Oh, no. No, she couldn’t possibly do that.
He cursed, spun her around and hunched down so they were eye to eye. “I. Wasn’t. Sad.”
She wished she could believe that.
“Elena, I kissed you. You kissed me back. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that—or maybe I should have asked first—but I’m not sorry I did it. I’m only sorry that you are.”
Her jaw dropped. “What? No! No, I’m not sorry we kissed. I promise you, I liked it.” What did a body look like after it died of embarrassment? Did the skin keep the fiery red flush she knew covered her from toe to hair follicles?
His hands loosened on her shoulders and he pulled her closer. “Glad to hear it. I have one more theory.” He kissed her, right under her ear, where her pulse beat so fast and so hard, she was certain he could taste it. “I think you’re out of practice.” He dipped lower, this time, kissing along her jaw, and her bones melted. “Need to try again.” His lips were there, right there, just a whisper away from hers and she swore her tongue tingled in anticipation. “This time, don’t think. Just feel.”
His lips landed, devouring hers like she was his first meal after a fast. Everything about him charged her senses. His scent—evergreen, the clever fingers roving over her body, heating her through her clothes. His hair, all that thick dark hair, was soft and silky under her fingertips. He shifted, moved his hips between her thighs, his hands on her bottom keeping her there—right there, where all that power surged.
He was, she concluded, the penance for her sins. Life, karma, fate—whatever you called it—it obviously had a sick sense of humor. It dropped the perfect man right into her hands—a guy whose smile was almost radioactive, a guy who bought
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