Slowly, eyes still on me, Luke’s grin faded.
“I don’t want a beer,” he said.
“Coffee?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.
“No,” he replied.
Something had changed in the room, the air had started crackling. Before I could put my finger on it or do anything to disburse it, Luke was so in my space, he was my space, arms around me, mouth on mine, kissing me.
Instinctively I put my arms around his neck. He walked me back, hands moving up my sides, across my back, over my ass, all this time his tongue in my mouth. I felt my thighs hit the arm of the couch and we both went over and down, Luke controlling the fall with an arm out. Then his body settled on mine.
My heart was pumping with adrenalin and excitement both at the night’s activities and the couch activities.
He was good with his mouth, different than Vance, less intense, more titillating, almost teasing. His lips were always there but his tongue was playing with mine, giving me a taste of something hot then disappearing when I wanted more, making me go after it. Eventually his mouth disengaged from mine and went down my neck and his hands went up my shirt. I shivered and returned the gesture, liking the feel of the skin and muscle of his back.
His tongue was doing things behind my ear that felt good and I liked it, wanted it, wanted him.
And then just as quickly as I realized that, I didn’t want it.
Then I kid you not, I started crying for the first time since Auntie Reba died. I couldn’t have helped it if I tried but I didn’t even try. I was just too tired of holding them back.
I turned my head, put my lips to his neck and said quietly, “Luke.”
At the sound of his name, his tongue stopped and he turned his head to look at me. He watched me for a few seconds while the tears slid down the sides of my eyes.
Then he said, his voice soft and not angry, “Not normally the reaction I get, babe.”
My hands left the inside of his tee and one arm wrapped around his waist, the other hand went to the back of his head.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer. He rolled to the side, back to the couch and pulled us up so we were full-on the couch. He kept his arms around me and I pressed my cheek to his chest. I took deep breaths and after a few minutes controlled the tears.
After I’d done that, I tilted my head back to look at him. “You want a beer?” I asked, voice still quiet.
He used his thumb to wipe the tears from my face and when he was done, he kissed my nose. Then he said, “Yeah.”
I nodded, pulled away, got up and got us both a beer.
When I walked back into the living room, the TV was on, the sound low, some action movie with explosions was playing. I gave him the beer, sat down beside him and yanked off my boots. When I settled back into the couch, he pulled me into his body, arm around my shoulders.
Boo jumped up and I lifted my legs to the couch and curled into Luke’s warmth, head on his shoulder. Boo settled in the space between us and I stroked him.
I wasn’t afraid I was giving mixed messages. Instinctively I understood that Luke knew the score, knew I needed not to be alone and was offering me that and nothing else.
It was kind. It was huge. It was as un-badass as it could get and therefore even more badass than ever.
I’d never forget it and I’d always be thankful for it.
I drank my beer. Luke drank his. I put the empty bottle on the pub set and watched the movie.
Then I fell asleep cuddled into Luke.
* * * * *
“Babe,” Luke said low.
I opened my eyes and looked up.