she? I promise myself that if I allow a romp with Luke, it will be an exception to my rule.
One night. No strings.
Then back to my mission of becoming a Beauty.
We reach the door to the Bachman-owned gym, Barbells. “What are we doing here?”
He leads me to a red door in the alleyway beside the gym. “This is me.”
I look up to where he points. Facing the street, about three stories up, over the glowing pink letters of the sign for the gym, are four large windows overlooking the street. “That’s your apartment? Up there?”
“Yes.”
I laugh. “Damn. I thought Rockland was paying me well.”
He gives me that cool shrug of his. “They’ve been more than generous.”
We enter his place. Though my mind was on him, I’m now distracted by the view before me. As he said, the Bachmans have been more than generous.
The apartment is huge. You could fit four of my tiny shoeboxes inside of this space.
The compensation of this apartment—I can’t imagine what the rent would be. Luke must be a valuable asset to the family. He can end a disagreement with the raise of his brow. If things are heated, he uses a few firm words. His manner is authoritative, commanding, and self-confident, as if he knows he’ll be respected and obeyed.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on, watching him take charge at the bar. Though I wish keeping the peace at Gotcha’s didn’t mean him blocking me from my husband hunt.
It’s one large room overlooking the street. The soft neon from the Barbells sign below makes a soft pink glow through the room. The walls are exposed brick. The ceiling is insanely high, metal ductwork exposed above dark wood beams. The scuffed oak floors are stained dark. There’s a small industrial-style kitchen with dark wood and stainless-steel counters.
There’s a red Persian rug in the center of the room and off to one side, a black leather sofa with a huge round arm. On the other side is a king-sized bed. White sheets. Fluffy white comforters. Stacks of white pillows.
Such an innocent color for what I assume to be a bed that sees the same amount of action as a piece of furniture in the Playboy mansion.
He shuts the door. Locks it. Slips his shoes off.
I do the same, telling myself I’m doing so because I’m not wanting to be impolite, not because I’m eager to undress. “So, this is my prison for the night?”
“It looks that way.” He comes over to me. Instead of offering me a drink, his hands cup my waist. “And I’m your prison guard.”
The sexual tension between us is electrified; it looks like I’m not the only one who’s turned on. He pulls me into him, our bodies pressing together. His hungry gaze devours me, leaving me feeling weak in his arms. Wrapping one hand around my waist, the other slides around the back of my neck as he brings my face to meet his.
I know he’s going to kiss me, but the moment his lips meet mine, I’m still surprised. A tingling shoots through my lips and my entire body liquifies.
Luke is kissing me. And he’s damn good at it.
He’s mastered the delicate balance between control and gentleness that’s necessary for any first kiss worth having. In his kiss is desire, passion, and the promise of the most decent night of sex I’ll have had in a very long time.
Holding in a moan, I open my lips, his tongue slipping in and exploring my mouth. As he kisses, his hold on the back of my neck tightens. His hand sneaks around to my lower back and he pulls me in closer.
This man knows what he’s doing.
Winding my hands around him, I melt further against him. My breasts press against his chest, my nipples hardening as they make contact with his body. My core tightens, releasing a gush of arousal.
His hands move to the hem of my shirt. Lifting it over my skin. Exposing my belly.
Things are moving faster than I would have dreamed, than I ever allow, but the chemistry between us is explosive, demanding me to give into it. I’ve been alone for so long, living in a fantasy world, convincing myself I don’t need or want a man.
All the while, forgetting the magical, spellbinding, wonderful things only a man can offer a woman.
My shirt is gone, my sheer pink bra barely covering my breasts, the tips of my pink nipples shining through, eager for his