He surprised her by slipping two fingers under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “It was what?” he demanded, and stroked her arm, his palm sliding slowly down, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, then sliding back up.
She closed her eyes. “Incredible,” she whispered, and slowly opened them as his hand moved around to her back. “But this morning, I think I had a panic attack. I know that sounds crazy, but I realized that I’m going back to Orlando, and I have baggage, and you have baggage, and probably—it can’t work, Luke. It’s not a good idea.” She winced, hoping that didn’t sound too harsh. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Do what, exactly?” he pressed, his hand caressing her hip, sliding up her ribs, the heel of his palm on her breast, igniting another fire in her, causing her to catch her breath.
Be left. “You know what,” she said, and drew an unsteady breath as he moved his hand across her breast, his fingers grazing the fabric covering her nipple.
“Well first of all,” he murmured, “no one said anything about this going any place. No one mentioned commitment or marriage or even being pen pals.”
“But…” But he was right.
“I’m not saying that it couldn’t ever be more. I wouldn’t mind it one bit if you decided to stick around Pine River. But I think maybe you jumped the gun a little.” He leaned down to kiss her neck.
Madeline’s eyes fluttered shut. She imagined this was what a thousand butterflies winging against her skin must feel like.
He dipped his head to the hollow of her throat. “At the moment, it was one night. We both enjoyed it and we don’t have to hide from it. Where we go from there, or don’t go, is okay. Just don’t do what you did today.”
“Right,” she said, closing her eyes once more as he kissed her temple.
“You don’t get to put your nose in my business.”
She sighed—he was right again.
“And you don’t have to be afraid of whatever it is that has you so locked up—rejection, love, I don’t know. I just know you don’t have to fear it with me. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
“So we’re good?” he asked, pausing to lightly kiss her lips.
“Better than good.” She was already swimming in pleasure; it was pooling between her legs.
“That’s what I want to hear,” he murmured, moving his head down, to the patch of skin in the vee of her dress while his hand first slid down her leg, then between both of them.
“Just one question,” she asked as he caressed her. “When do we decide where we go from there?”
Luke paused in his attention to her, his mouth on her skin. He slowly lifted his head and looked at her, amusement in his eyes. “God you’re a mess,” he said. “A beautiful mess.” He pulled her into his arms, kissed her sweetly, languidly, until Madeline’s legs were melting beneath her. “You’re definitely an enigma,” he muttered against her skin.
“Enigma,” she said, enjoying his attention to her neck, “is kind of a strong word. It’s more like… like unpracticed.”
He smiled. “I think that makes me like you even more.” He opened the back door of the Pontiac. “You obviously need more practice,” he said, and gave her a playful shove.
She fell onto the backseat. Luke followed her in, coming over her, forcing her onto her back in that seat.
“What are you doing?” Madeline asked laughingly.
“I am going to kiss you,” he said, his eyes on her mouth. “We’re making up now.”
“Were we fighting?”
“Do I have to explain it all again?”
No, he didn’t. Her heart was racing again, but it was different this time. It wasn’t panic, or anxiety. It was hope. Madeline slowly lay back as he settled one knee between her legs. A million thoughts went through her mind as he unbuttoned her blouse, kissing her skin, his mouth on her breast, his hand caressing her leg and her hip and stoking her blood. Her mind said no, warned her, chastised her for allowing this to happen again…
But Madeline closed her eyes to her thoughts, and sank into the pleasurable onslaught of his body against hers, losing herself in the exquisite sensations, and allowing herself to let go, to let go of control, of organization, of being Madeline, and drift along with a gorgeous man in the backseat of an old Pontiac. A deep sigh of yearning escaped her; she dug her fingers into his shoulders and arched against him as he moved his attention to her breast. She could feel his erection and pressed against it, sliding her leg suggestively against it. Luke made a growling sound, and ran his hand down her body, over the flare of her hip, then slid in between her legs.