Page 43 of Reluctant Chemistry

Luka placed his empty wine glass on the kitchen island and turned, one step closer to the door. “Anyway, thanks for the delicious meal. Sure beats takeout any day.”

“No problem.”

Outside, they stayed several feet apart, CeCe scuffing her toe across the stones of the driveway as she mentally commanded herself to get a grip. Luka opened the driver’s door of his SUV and stood holding the inside handle. “I’ll see you next week.”

CeCe nodded. Smiled the polite smile of departure. She saw no need to speak, and even if she did, she’d struggle to form the words. And as she watched him drive away, it struck her that life in the vastness of this world—with its series of heartaches and lessons interspersed with moments of joy—sometimes made little sense.

Without Luka, the house creaked with emptiness, and despite the mild March evening, CeCe shivered as she crossed the family room to close the French doors. Just as she was about to click the top deadbolt into place, she heard a car traveling up the driveway. She ran into the living room and, with one knee on the sofa, peered out the window. Luka stared out the windshield, appearing lost in silent contemplation, and as she stepped into the hallway, CeCe failed to calm her racing heart.

By the time she opened the front door, Luka already stood at the bottom of the veranda steps. In his hand, a white paper bag, the type with a woven handle like they sold in packs of five at Kmart for a couple of dollars.

“Did you forget something?”

“Yes.” He offered her the bag. “Your book. I’ve been meaning to give it to you at school, but it keeps slipping my mind.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks. What did you think?”

He glanced over his shoulder at his SUV, its door ajar, then back again. A slow smile lit up his face. “Are all the books you read that steamy?”

She shrugged. “I prefer intimacy to violence. I’ve never understood how violence is so acceptable in literature, but sex often isn’t.”

His smile slipped slightly. “Fair point.”

CeCe refused to release his gaze. Luka stepped backward toward his SUV, and as he shut the door, her physical reaction to his decision was immediate. “What are you doing?”

He took three of the five veranda steps, his hand resting on the rail as if he needed a steadying anchor. “Being reckless.”

She made her way to the French doors off her bedroom and stepped inside. Luka followed, the tread of his shoes on the veranda boards no more than a whisper. And as muted light spilled in from the hallway, he slipped his hands around her from behind, his lips soft against the side of her neck.

“Turn around and look at me,” he whispered.

She did as he asked, her heart racing and mouth dry. “I didn’t think you were the reckless type.”

His sigh deep and conflicted, Luka rested his forehead against hers. “Tell me to go then.” He reached for her hands, his thumbs smoothing over the knuckles, and kissed her.

CeCe shook her head. “So the decision’s mine?” Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt. One by one by one. “If you don’t want to be here—”

“Oh, I want to be here, so, so much, but…”

“But?”

“You know the ‘but’ as well as I do.” He lifted his chin and closed his eyes as CeCe slipped her hand into the waistband of his jeans.

“But surely you won’t deny me after that kiss? Deny us this one last secret?” She unzipped his fly and coaxed his jeans to the floor, then gently pushed him backward. “Lie on the bed.”

“So you’re in charge?” Luka pulled her down with him. They kissed, tender lips on tender lips, graceful but so very erotic as he slipped one hand under her T-shirt and cupped her breast. “I don’t think so.”

With her legs trembling and breasts impossibly tight, CeCe closed her mind to Luka’s ‘but.’ He’d thrown out the chance, and she’d happily caught it. Later on, if he wanted to pretend she’d seduced him, so be it. “I’m not the one who came back uninvited.”

“Only to return your book.”

They kissed again. “Liar. You made a conscious decision to be here. If you can’t live with that, we should stop right now.”

Luka groaned as her hand slipped into his boxers. He was rock hard under her touch, and as she moved to stroke him, he smiled. “I can live with it.”

Her T-shirt off and discarded on the bedroom floor, CeCe straddled him and watched as he removed her sports bra. She wondered if he could smell the sweat on her skin from her run. She wished she’d showered, but now, that would have to wait.

Their kisses built in tempo—hot and demanding and so full of passion that CeCe struggled to ground herself. Until that moment, sex between them had been gentle, albeit intense. But this groping and sucking and frenzy of hands and tongues stole the breath from her lungs.

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