“But I'll be alive.” I move closer to Luke, until I can hear his breath. Until I can feel the warmth of his body.
“What if I could help you the way he does? What if I could be the one to keep you from destroying yourself?”
“You can't,” I say.
“How do you know?” He asks, but he doesn't force me to remind him that he failed Samantha. He doesn't force me to remind myself that he is trying to help me because of how royally he fucked up helping her.
“I need to stop seeing you if I want to stay with Ryan.”
“I know.”
“But I don't want to stop seeing you.”
“I know.”
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
“Whatever we want.” He presses his warm, sweaty body against me. Then his lips. Then his hands. His expert hands, so gentle and strong, slip under my cover-up and untie my bikini. And his hands are on my body, touching me everywhere, so soft I purr.
And, then, they are gone, back at his sides. His body is not pressed against mine. He is only inches away, but the distance between us feels so vast and unconquerable.
“Leave him,” Luke says. “Be with me. Stay with me. Love me.” His hand brushes against mine. “Think about it. Take the day. Take the week. Figure out if there's any chance I could be the person to hold you together.”
“You weren't there. You won't know what to do. You won't know what I need.”
“You can tell me. We can figure it out together.”
“You're still engaged,” I say.
“We both know it's over,” he says, “but I'll call her right now if it means you'll be with me.”
It's a sweet thought, but it would never work. I can barely handle breakfast, let alone my entire life. By the time Luke learns, I will already be halfway down the rabbit hole. I will already be flitting between purging and restricting, ten pounds below my healthy weight, throwing up catered lunches in my dressing room. I've been through this hell before and I'm not strong enough to drag myself out of it again.
And if poor, honest Luke couldn't save his fiancée, why would he be able to save me?
“Just think about it,” Luke says. “I'll love you in a way he never has.”
***
Luke insists on walking me back to the apartment. Maybe he senses it, that this needs to be the end. He grips my hand tightly. He kisses my forehead. He rides with me in the elevator.
The doors close. We kiss, long and hard, and my body floods with electricity. My body wants nothing but more of Luke, but I know better. The elevator stops at my floor and I have to leave. I have to walk back to my room and pretend this never happened.
And I do, because I need to get back to the life waiting for me. I need to play my part again. I need to be the doting girlfriend again. I need to be faithful again.
I lock the door behind me. The apartment is empty. Of course, it should be empty. It's the middle of the day, a weekday. Ryan isn't due home for hours. I press my back against the door, my cover-up sliding over my skin. Every shift of the fabric is a jolt against my body. I close my eyes and pretend it is Luke touching me.
My hand slides between my legs. Maybe this will satisfy my craving. Maybe this will shake my desire. Maybe this will be enough.
Just one more time. I can think of Luke one more time. Get it out of my system. One more time, and then I will belong only to Ryan, think only of Ryan, be only with Ryan.
I slide my fingers over my clit and feel my sex clench. I am already so keyed up from kissing Luke. I have to slow down. I have to savor this.
There's a knock on the door. I open my eyes, and pull up my bikini bottoms. Deep breath, composed expression. I open the door. It's Luke. Thank God. I feel my cheeks flush. Does he know what I was doing? Does he care?
“The least you could do is throw me a pity fuck,” Luke says.
Luke traces the lines of my smile and presses the door closed.