Lukas (Ashes & Embers 3)

My insides melt, and I of course reply with something lame. “I have my next appointment in two weeks.”

He gently lifts my chin with his finger and holds it there, luring me to look up into his deep, chestnut eyes. “No. Not for that,” he replies.

“F-for what?” My voice is shaky, just like the rest of me right now. Having his body so close to mine, his finger still under my chin, and those eyes of his locked on to mine are all shocks to my sheltered little foundation.

“Dinner,” he replies. “I can cook for you, or we can go out. Your choice.”

“Lukas . . .” I can’t do this.

“Don’t say no, Ivy.” His voice is gentle and hopeful. “I’ll give you as many forks as you want, and I’ll try not to think about putting things in your mouth,” he teases, making me laugh. I’m not sure how he can be so sweet, adorable, and sexual at the same time. It’s completely rattling.

“I’m really not ready to date yet,” I admit. “My head is still messed up.”

He strokes his finger back and forth under my chin, and I want to rub on him like a cat. “Everyone’s head is messed up, Ivy. Messed up is the new normal.”

“Yes, that’s very true.”

“So, say yes. Don’t think of it as a date. No expectations other than good company and good food. And forks.”

I try to stand my ground, even though it’s getting harder by the second with his sexy voice and pleading eyes. “It’s not a good idea. I’m not ready, and I think I’m just a little bit too old for you. I’m very flattered, though.”

He tilts his head. “Really? Or is it that you think I’m too young for you? Because your age means nothing to me.”

“Well, it is a big age difference, no matter how you want to spin it.”

He moves a little closer to me, our bodies almost touching, and I put my hand up between us and rest it on his chest. I meant it to be a resisting gesture, but as soon as I touch him, my intention falters. He feels so solid, so real, so warm . . . So much like a man. I feel dwarfed between the car and his tall, fit body. His chest and shoulders are so broad that I cannot even see around him. As I look up at him, I see a shooting star fly by in the sky over his head.

“You have no idea how captivating you are, do you?” he says softly. “Your face and your eyes just now . . . wow.”

“I just saw a shooting star. I haven’t seen one of those in years.” Something in the air tonight feels magical. I’m not sure if it’s from being with him, or if the stress of the past few months is slowly dissipating, allowing me to enjoy small parts of life again. Whatever it is, it feels damn good.

“You have to make a wish, then,” he says knowingly. “Or gift it to me.”

“What would you wish for? I need to know if it’s worthy before I gift it to you,” I murmur, my fingers very slowly rubbing the middle of his chest, as if they have little minds of their own. The fabric of his tight flannel shirt is thin and soft, letting me feel the warmth of his skin through it.

“I’d wish you’d have dinner with me, and I’d wish I could kiss you goodnight.”

My stomach does cartwheels, and I can feel his heart beating faster beneath my hand, just as my own is.

“Lukas . . . that’s two wishes . . .” I whisper, suddenly barely having the ability to speak or breathe.

He leans his head down closer to mine. “You looking at me like that, and saying my name like that, just makes me want to kiss you even more.”

I swallow hard, unable to tear my eyes away from his. “You really shouldn’t be saying things like that,” I breathe, my voice quivering. He’s got my nerves in overdrive. Hell, who am I kidding? He’s got my entire mind and body in overdrive right now.

He moves his hand to cup the side of my face. “Close your eyes, Ivy. Let’s make our wishes at the same time.”

Lukas is a wizard, and I’ve quickly fallen under his spell. My eyes flutter closed, and his lips touch mine, so softly that we are barely touching at all, but it’s enough to make me see even more shooting stars, this time behind closed eyes, in that place where magic happens. His kiss is completely unexpected but way too perfect to break away from. I drop my bag to the ground and bring my hands up to rest on his shoulders. He kisses me a little harder, his tongue gently touching my lips, silently asking permission for more. Parting my lips, I let him kiss me deeper, his tongue slowly meeting mine, caressing in enticing circles. The feel of his tongue piercing and lip ring is so strange to me, yet incredibly erotic. I think I like it. His hand goes to my hip, pulling my body possessively but gently against him, as his kisses grow more passionate and urgent. My legs begin to shake with timid desire, my hands squeezing his muscled shoulders, hanging on to him in this sudden dizzying realm he’s led me into. Did a first kiss ever feel like this before? Has any kiss ever felt like this before? No. Not for me. Not ever.

He oozes skilled sensuality; every touch, every breath, every kiss is measured in perfect timing and depth. This is not an awkward, clumsy, rushed and horny boy touching me for kicks. Not by a long shot. He’s savoring everything. And I don’t want him to stop.

Grasping my waist with both hands, he effortlessly lifts me up onto the hood of my car, bringing me closer to eye level with him. He moves between my parted legs, guides my thighs around his jean-clad hips, and covers my mouth with his again, kissing me long, deep, and tantalizingly slow as he gently holds my face in his hands. It’s the kind of kiss that brands complete want and ownership. He leaves no doubt that he wants me. The logical part of me is telling me to stop him, but the lonely, aching part of me takes over, and I slide my hands up his chest and over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck. My fingers tangle in his long silky hair, and I love how new and different it feels. Everything about him is so different, like tasting an exotic food for the first time that quickly leads to crazy indulgence. That magnetic pull I felt the first time I laid eyes on him is a force to be reckoned with right now. It’s controlling me, taking over every part of me, squashing my fears and reservations, and paving a very clear path that leads directly to this man. I cannot even begin to understand or make the tiniest bit of sense of this attraction. But it’s there, and it’s stronger than anything I?

?ve ever felt in my life.

Suddenly, he stops kissing me, his lips just a whisper away from mine, and stares into my eyes for a few moments, before letting his dark eyes slowly close as he pulls me closer against his body, his hard cock pressing against me through our clothes, sending a hot surge of raw desire through me.

What I glimpsed in his eyes shook me even more than his kiss.

Passion.

Care.

Desire.

All feelings that carry the ability to give immense pleasure and pain. Neither of which I am ready for.

I slowly try to pull myself away from him, but he holds me close against him.

“Wow,” I say breathlessly, leaning my head against his shoulder.

“Come upstairs with me, and let’s see if we can upgrade that to a holy shit,” he whispers, his hand resting on the back of my neck, gently squeezing.

A wave of heat rushes to my thighs, making my insides quiver at his words. I am so out of my league right now with him. Could I actually please a man like this, with my lack of experience, not to mention my very not-perfect body? I wonder, if I buy the thigh master and do it for ten hours a day, what kind of results I can achieve in a week, coupled with one of those cabbage soup diets maybe.

“Lukas, I can’t. I really have to go home . . .”

He doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he takes my hands in his and holds on to them between us while his eyes seek out mine.

“Don’t be nervous.” He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. “Come upstairs with me. I want to sit on the couch with you and hold you and kiss you for hours. We don’t have to do anything else. I just don’t want this feeling to end.” His eyes are full of hope and want, reflecting my own emotions. I feel so connected to him, like everything we are feeling is the same. Equal. Together.

God, I want him. So bad. I cannot think of anything that would be better than being in his arms for hours. His kisses and touches are a slice of heaven I have never even dreamed of, and I want more.

I try to catch my breath and regain my composure. “I can’t. It’s getting late, and I really don’t want my daughter worrying about where I am. She’s not used to me not being home.”