It was Janica.
As his mid-30s had crept up on him he'd been more and more careful about diet and exercise. But with her he felt at least a decade younger. Still, when she reached into the grocery bags after dinner and pulled out a huge bag of marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers, he decided that next time he should pay closer attention to what they bought at the store.
Of course, that would mean he'd somehow have to learn how to stop focusing on her ass as she walked down the aisles.
Which meant that it was far more likely he'd have to get used to eating crap food. Because her ass was a goddamned miracle.
It wasn't until he was almost past his thoughts, that he realized where he was going with them. When had grocery shopping with Janica in the future become something that was a given beyond the next few days?
He knew better, knew he'd been horribly remiss about stopping things between them from going any further. Where Janica was concerned, right now he just didn't have it in him to be the strong one. To be the voice of reason. To do the right thing, no matter the personal cost.
He looked up just as she threw the bag of marshmallows at him, and then the chocolate. He caught them right before they nailed him in the forehead.
After grabbing a box of graham crackers, she headed for the door. “How are your fire-making skills?”
He nailed her with a hard look that told her she didn't know who she was messing with. “I was the top scout in my troop.”
“Of course you were,” she teased. “I don't know why I even bothered to ask. Some things are just a given, aren't they?”
“Hey,” he said as he caught up to her and grabbed her around the waist, “don't knock the outdoor skills, babe. Hands down, there's no one you would rather be lost in the woods with.”
She reached her hand up to his cheek. “Even without the mad scouting skills, there's no one I would rather be with. In the woods or otherwise.” And then she pulled out of his hold and scampered down the stairs.
His head, his heart, reeled as he followed after her.
She'd held up her end of the “just fun” bargain really well so far. Almost too well. So far, that had been her only slip.
But knowing how much she enjoyed being with him wasn't what had him reeling. After all, he already knew she loved him.
No, what gave him pause was how much he liked hearing her say it.
How much he liked knowing it.
Too damn much.
She was already collecting rocks and arranging them in a circle on the sand by the time he reached her with an armful of sticks and broken logs that he'd found in the woods between the cabin and the beach. It was a still night out on the coast, and he easily lit a match and put it to the kindling. Minutes later, a bonfire was roaring.
It was the most natural thing in the world to sit down on a blanket in front of the fire with Janica between his legs, her back pressed to his stomach, his arms around her, holding her tight. They stared into the flames in silence for quite a while, her head leaning back against his chest, his chin resting lightly on the top of her dark head.
But despite what should have been the perfect peace of being out on the beach under the stars, Luke felt as if his insides were shifting around, conflicting emotions pushing at each other inside his chest.
He wanted to know more about this beautiful woman he was holding. He already knew just how she like to be kissed, stroked. He knew what made her cry out with pleasure, exactly how to take her to the peak and over.
It wasn't enough, damn it.
“Did you always know you wanted to design clothes?”
He felt the slightest tightening of her body against his before she replied. “Pretty much. Lily used to take me to the store and buy whatever dolls were on sale.”
“What kind of doll goes on sale?”
He loved feeling her laughter rumble through her chest to his. “The really ugly ones. But they weren't ugly for long, because we'd head to the fabric store next and rifle through their scrap bins. You could fill a bag for five dollars. I'd spend hours cutting and sewing at home.”
“Why do I have a feeling you weren't making your dolls pretty little dresses?”
He felt the light jab of her elbow against his ribs. “Are you accusing me of making them look like little Goth sluts?”
He brushed the hair away from the side of her neck and pressed a kiss there by way of an apology. “No. But you definitely don't look at things the way everyone else does.”