Madeline found his mouth as he moved his hand against her, stroking her, reminding her of the euphoria she’d experienced last night, of letting go completely. Her breath quickened and she squirmed against him, wanting more, wanting it all again. Luke obliged her, sliding his arm underneath her hips to lift her, then pressing his body into hers, burrowing deep.
Once again, Madeline was beyond rational thought. She caressed his body with her mouth and hands, wanting to taste and feel every conceivable inch of him. She could feel herself spiraling as he moved inside her, his hand still stroking her. She was coiling tighter and tighter, rising to meet every thrust, desperate for the release. It shuddered through her body, reverberating through every limb, every muscle. She caught her cry and her breath, arched her neck and pressed against him as she fell off the edge of desire into pleasure.
“Maddie,” Luke whispered in her ear. His strokes came quicker, harder. She could feel the tension of his body, in the tight curl of his hand around hers, in his breath, hot in her hair. She felt them together, their bodies breathing in unison. It ceased to be physical; it was purely emotion for her now, far bigger and stronger than a physical release. And when she felt him shudder into her, she felt tenderness, desire, and a release of the anxiety. She felt free.
He collapsed onto her, his heart beating wildly against her arm. She kissed his cheek. His eyes were closed, his breathing still ragged, but he gripped her hand like a dying man. And then he opened his eyes, kissed her softly for one long, insanely perfect moment. He lifted his head, lifted himself off of her, and pulled her up. As she adjusted her dress, he stroked her cheek and said, “Come to dinner.”
She giggled. “What? Right now?”
“No, in a few days. We’ll figure out when, but you and Libby. Hell, I’ll even let Jackson in.”
Madeline realized he was serious. “To your house? Oh, Luke, I don’t know—”
“Why? Are you afraid?” he asked, watching her as he fastened his jeans, and smiled.
She sighed. “No,” she said, acquiescing.
Luke grinned. “I didn’t think so,” he said, and kissed her again. “Trust me. It will be all right.”
Funny how, in that moment, with the glow of their lovemaking still warm on her skin, Madeline could almost believe it.
TWENTY-FOUR
The news from Durango sucks, man! They are like total downers with their tests and bullshit like “you’ll probably need a feeding tube in twelve to eighteen months,” and crap like that. I don’t listen to them. They’re just a bunch of talking heads to me. It’s like I told Dad, “If they say I have to get a feeding tube, they can kiss my ass. It’s bad enough I have to sit in this chair all the time, but if I can’t have Aunt Patti’s brownies, what’s the point?”
Seriously, what’s the point?
But it upset the old man, and I advised him not to dwell on that, because we are having a par-tay! Luke cooked it up as part of his campaign to Save Homecoming Ranch. He told us the same day Jackson came over and told me there were some guys from Denver sniffing around the ranch, and they were asking him lots of questions about the deal Grant and Dad made. Jackson thinks one of the heirs lawyered-up. Dad said he didn’t have the money for a lawyer, and Luke said he did, he had like a ton of equity in his Denver house. They had this huge fight about it, and it totally reminded me of Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier fights. Remember how they just went round and round? You can catch those fights sometimes on HBO.
Anyway, Luke is way more stubborn than Dad and he said, “We’re not letting go without a fight. I’ve already seen a lawyer.” And then he said to me, “And we’re having a goddamn party, Leo.”
He said it like that because it was my idea to begin with. Luke rejected it when I first presented it, but he always comes around to my brilliant ideas. Think about it—it’s going to be hard for the lovelies to totally cut us out of the ranch when they actually put names to faces and meet us. You probably think I’m going to use my chair for sympathy. Hell, yeah! It’s got to be good for something, right?
But that’s not why Luke invited them. He’s always been the Dudley Do-Right between us. Still, I like that he’s beginning to think like the apprentice of a certified genius.
I said, “You only want a party because you’re totally into this Blue Eyes chick.” I was just kidding around, but he acted all annoyed. Judge and jury, allow me to present the facts: First, he doesn’t want a party. Then he comes back from Denver and he suddenly wants one. And he wants to invite Blue Eyes and Libby and Jackson to this party, which, you will not be surprised to hear, flipped Dad out.