Page 44 of Reluctant Chemistry

“I love the scent of you.” Luka twisted her G-string around his fingers, and the tiny seam gave way.

“You’ve ripped my panties,” CeCe gasped as he settled between her legs and coaxed them open.

He looked up at her, a soft grin changing his expression to playful. “Now I’m going to make the rest of you come apart.”

* * *

They’d fallen asleep just shy of midnight, covered only by a crisp cotton sheet and their spent desire. There had been no conversation afterward. Luka’s expression spoke for him—tender and loving, mixed with a touch of sadness and regret as he held her close and planted feather-light kisses in her hair.

CeCe woke around three to Luka’s lips caressing her nap. Their second time lacked the intensity of the first. It was the kind of sex she’d come to expect of him—where he whispered his commands as his hands gently guided her into different positions, and he’d pull back, time and time again, wanting the moment to last.

Afterward, Luka rolled onto his side to face her. His gaze held on tight, and as the emotion rose in her throat, tears she hoped he couldn’t see welled in her eyes.

“When are you leaving?”

He sighed as a calloused palm cradled her face. “Easter Monday.”

CeCe closed her eyes against the tears and snuggled closer, knowing this would be their last time. He was right: they’d both been reckless. It was time to let go.

* * *

Nursing a groggy head from the wine and lack of sleep, and with his morning erection begging for attention again, Luka slipped out of bed and gathered his clothes from the floor. CeCe lay with her hair fanned out over the pillow and her breasts peaking underneath the cotton sheet. He studied her, knowing this would be the last time he’d kiss her. Touch her. And as he dressed in the shadows of her room, despondency engulfed him.

Shoes in hand, Luka leaned over, brushed a lock of hair from her face, and kissed her on the cheek. “Take care, beautiful,” he whispered before stepping through the French doors and leaving their stolen moment behind.

Outside, dawn cast a misty light over the tree rows, and as he drove along the coastal highway and onto Coronation Drive, he replayed that moment when he’d followed CeCe into her bedroom.

He smacked his hand down on the steering wheel. “Damn it, Luka. What the hell have you done?”

22

Boiling Point

Most of the other students were already seated when CeCe entered Luka’s chemistry class on Monday. She took her usual seat without even a casual glance in his direction. Luka called the class to order, and when he looked her way, she still didn’t meet his gaze. When the period was over, she left the room as soon as the bell rang, eye contact avoided at all costs.

He’d texted her after finishing work on Sunday, but apart from a brief thanks for the lift back to the orchard, it was as if Saturday night had never happened. Driving home from school on Monday afternoon, the windshield wipers struggling against the heavy rain, Luka found it difficult to concentrate. He texted her again that evening, but she never replied.

All week he thought of her, relived the moment he drove back up the driveway and followed her inside, but every time he picked up his phone to call her, a hesitation kicked in. CeCe wasn’t the wallflower type. If she wanted to contact him, she would.

But she didn’t.

Until Thursday.

CeCe walked into his classroom just as he was about to leave for the day. Stood by his desk. Dropped her bag at her feet. At first, he couldn’t read her mood, but as he searched her face, the look of regret was plainly evident.

“About Saturday,” she started. “Someone saw us together at the beach. I don’t know who, but the rumor mill is churning. I don’t want you to look at me or even text me. It only stirs things up.”

Luka watched her expression falter. Noticed her chin tremble. She inhaled deeply and blinked back tears.

“I know the other night shouldn’t have happened,” she continued, “so let’s pretend it didn’t and move on. No texts, no stolen glances.”

He brushed his fingers against hers. She halted her intended backward step but didn’t look at him. Luka moved closer and skimmed the back of his hand across her cheek.

CeCe closed her eyes at his touch and let out an unsteady breath. “Please don’t do this.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” He hesitated, trying to find the right words for a wrong situation. He was about to reassure her when Carole Jones pushed through the door. The principal considered the two of them, her expression a mixture of disbelief and disappointment. Seconds passed in silence.

“CeCe, please leave.” Carole’s instruction left no room for retort.

---