Her Forbidden Crush (Love in London 2)

Lexie Peterson was the forbidden fruit of his youth. And a fool always wants what he can’t have. He definitely hadn’t been allowed to have Lexie. Being unable to have a girl had been something of a novelty for him even back then. Hence the extreme resurgence of that attraction now, right? This instant, extreme reaction was merely a throwback to that. No real biggie, he could just relax and step away.

But then again, Luke deserved a little fun, didn’t he? After the huge disappointment of today, didn’t he deserve a sweet treat? Except there was no way he could perform right now. Given his injury any attempt would be sub-par.

“So what have you been doing these last few years?” he asked. “Got a twenty-second recap?” He could manage some normal conversation and not leer at her. Sure he could.

“I’ve been traveling a bit. Worked in Australia for a while,” she answered. “After that exchange trip to the US, I really wanted to travel more, but stayed nearer to Mum and Dad because of their age.”

Luke had heard snippets from Dani, had seen occasional pics. Now he was distracted from her answer by her hair—the glorious strawberry-blond length caught the lights above and seemed to spark. He was pretty sure it was her natural color too. It had been the same when she’d been a shy teen and she certainly hadn’t dyed it then. She hadn’t done anything to draw attention to herself. Which wasn’t to say she didn’t get it—then or now.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

Her voice cut sharp. He focused on her face—her narrowed green eyes unwaveringly on his.

Her bold look threw him—the shy kid who’d once been unable to say anything but “um” had suddenly upped her game.

“Um.” Hell, now he was the one with the speechless problem.

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to pull it back together, but he was frustrated that he couldn’t pace the way he needed, to release this ferocious energy surge. He’d been bitter enough before walking in the door, now—incomprehensibly—he was at the point of needing to punch something. Or screw someone into submission.

“I’ll take the sofa for tonight,” she suddenly said in a chillier tone. “And I’ll move on tomorrow. You don’t need to worry. I can take care of myself.” Without breaking that killer eye contact, she leaned back against the sink as if she was too damn at ease.

Could she now? Really? Because last he knew, Lexie Peterson had been a chicken. All scaredy-cat and too shy to look a guy in the eye.

Okay, she was looking him in the eye now and was coolly provocative with it. He was almost overcome with the urge to scoop her up on the counter and spread her legs so he could step between them. But judging by that ice-queen look, Lexie didn’t want to play. Now why was that? Because she had once.

Yeah. Once he’d kissed her and she’d been more than sweet. Her lips had clung, parted. She’d wanted. And he wanted her to want him again because there was no reason for him to be banned from her now. Instead he turned to the damn coffee machine just for something to do with himself—the last thing he needed was the caffeine.

“Why are you limping?”

Damn, he’d stood still for too long and now she’d caught him moving slower than a snail. He’d wanted to hide it as long as possible because he didn’t want to dwell on it. Didn’t want to admit defeat to anyone. Bitterness burned in his chest. He’d been such an idiot. But he couldn’t help glancing to see her reaction. “I fell in training. Wrecked my knee. I can’t run.”

“Oh, Luke.” Her defensive attitude melted away as her eyes warmed with compassion. She lifted away from the counter as if she were about to come hug him. Only she paused, and slowly leaned back again. “I’m sorry.” Her mouth softened but then she lifted her hand, rubbing her thumbnail over her lower lip. He really wished she wouldn’t do that. She’d done it all the time all those years ago and he’d always wanted to soothe her lips with his own. Clearly she hadn’t broken her habit—and his reaction remained the same, too. “You must be disappointed.”

Major understatement.

He looked away, forcing his throat to swallow. Yeah, this was the Lexie he remembered. The pretty girl with the world’s most expressive eyes. Sensitive and caring and sweet. He’d seen it several times—but never once directed at him like this. It had always been Dani. Lexie had been there that dreadful day when Dani’s dog had been hit by a car. Dani had been beside herself but Lexie had been so empathetic, helping more than either Luke or his parents could. Very, very sweet. And unfortunately, as sexy as hell. For him as a youth, she’d been pure torment.

“I feel bad for Kate.” He focused on the mess of the last twenty-four hours.

“She’s your runner?”

He nodded. Dani must have told her. Kate had been born blind. She was also a born runner. He had the privilege of being her guide runner—tethered together for the marathon.

Lexie was silent for a moment. “Does she have another guide?”

“They’ve found one for her.” He sighed. He and Kate had worked so hard, training together for over a year. She was like a sister to him and they’d competed at so many events, working their way up the distances. He’d wanted to help her get there—to the race of her dreams, not just across the finish line, but up on the podium. And he’d let her down with a stupid mistake.

“Is she okay?” Lexie moved closer.

“She’ll be fine. A few training sessions with her new guide and it’ll be great again.” He hoped.

“What about your knee?”

“Six weeks.” Six weeks of almost nothing when he should have been closing in on the marathon.

“Bet that feels like forever.”

It felt like a bitch. “I’m going to take a shower.” He had to get away from Lexie before he did something he’d regret. He was in no shape to try it on with her. If—when—that was going to happen, he needed to be in top form. And he shouldn’t use to her get out of his own damned bad mood. That wasn’t fair.

“Okay,” she said softly.

Luke walked down the hall, his knee throbbing now. He went into his bedroom, leaning back against the door to close it. He noticed the changes immediately—even the scent in the room.

Lexie.

She was right inside his space, right in his head. He painfully stalked to his bathroom and hell, a bag spilling all kinds of personal stuff was sitting beside the sink. Her shampoo and conditioner bottles stood on the shower floor. He closed his eyes and willed resistance. But that subtle scent still got to him. Hell, had he gone psycho stalker? Getting turned on by the mere scent of the woman? He screwed his eyelids more tightly together. It wasn’t just the scent. It was the knowledge that she was there—in his home, wearing not a hell of a lot. All grown up and even more luscious. Lexie Peterson was the one he’d wanted. The one he’d not been allowed to have.