Page 101 of Reluctant Chemistry

CeCe cut the water and grabbed a couple of towels off the rail. With one wrapped around her hair and the other loose at her hips, she stood in front of the mirror and wondered if he’d noticed the difference between the CeCe of today and her eighteen-year-old self. The fuller curves and breasts.

The dress had been a last-minute idea before leaving home. After all, with no need for a bra or underwear, it seemed perfect for the occasion. And as she shimmied into the Valentina original, CeCe fantasized about a shirtless Luka clad in those white jodhpurs and black boots. After fastening the choker collar around her neck, she freed her hair from its bath-towel turban and checked her reflection again.

Her hair drying into curls, stilettos on, and red lipstick and mascara in place, she fished in her bag for the wrapped box she’d carried with her for over a week.

As CeCe left his bedroom, a cover version of Coldplay’s ‘Fix Me’ floated along the hallway. She longed to go to him, to slip her arms around his waist from behind and rest her head between his shoulder blades as they swayed to the beat.

In the living room, the whiskey sat exactly where she’d imagined it would, the song played a little louder, and the Christmas tree lights twinkled in the corner. Luka sat in one of two leather chairs that flanked the fireplace, whiskey in hand, his head back and eyes closed.

CeCe tiptoed across the room to place the gift underneath the tree before picking up her drink. The first sip burned its way down, and at the sound of the ice clinking in her glass, Luka opened his eyes.

Stared.

Shook his head.

Formed a lazy smile.

“Well, just look at you.”

47

Red Lipstick Bow

Luka could scarcely believe his eyes. That dress—with its submissive straps and form-fitting style—had haunted him for weeks. Now here she was. All wrapped up in those silver heels and sporting a red lipstick bow: the perfect Christmas gift.

“I thought I should dress for the occasion.”

He stood and stepped toward her. “And what occasion would that be?”

CeCe sipped her drink and glanced up at him through heavy lashes. “I don’t believe I need to elaborate.” She raised her head and met his gaze. “But I will say this. I’ve given the whole ‘existence of pheromones’ theory much thought over the years.”

He suppressed a smile. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh. And I’ve come to the conclusion that, while there’s ongoing scientific debate, in my opinion, their existence is highly probable. In fact, if pushed, I might even use the termabsolutelyprobable.”

Luka took her glass and set it down next to his on the side table. He inhaled deeply and nuzzled into her neck, his lips finding their way from choker to earlobe as she tilted her head to one side. “I think you’re probably right,” he whispered. “Because, damn, I’ve missed the scent of you. So, so much.”

CeCe drew back and grinned. “Same.”

The music changed to Bic Runga’s ‘Sway.’ Luka held her gaze as she moved with the melody, and as her breasts pressed against his chest, he stiffened in response. This girl—with her theory on pheromones, sexy-as dress, and full, red lips—had shown up. No more polite lies, no commitment issues, no baggage. Just the two of them, and a fresh dose of honesty.

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined fucking you again in this dress?”

Her flirty smile had him stiffening even more, which amused him. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom yet. Then again, she’d always had that effect.

“No, but I might also have imagined us having sex while you have your white jodhpurs around your thighs and your black boots on.”

He chuckled at the thought. “Yeah? I’m not sure that would work.”

CeCe tilted her head a little more, inviting easier access, her light fragrance flirting with his senses as her breath hitched. He’d tried to remember the scent of her over the years and failed. Now it seemed so familiar, he couldn’t understand why it had ever left him.

“Why not?”

Luka smoothed his hands down her dress until they reached her butt. He squeezed lightly. “Because I don’t like restrictions when I’m having sex.”

Her expression shifted from playful to serious, her breathing less controlled. “In that case, you should take me to your bed.”

“Not to the Kombi?”

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