Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

MACI

A fter breakfast, we hang out in the living room. I'm still working on my essay. Or, at least, I'm pretending to work. In reality, I'm listening to a movie soundtrack while I stare at a series of journal articles, none of the details filtering into my mind. Even through the headphones, I hear Kayla's sewing machine.

Suddenly, it stops. "Maci?"

I debate whether to ignore her, staring at the screen, or hold my finger up as if to say, one minute, and pretend to forget she wants my attention. It isn't easy to be normal around her and act like last night isn't eating me up. Pretend it never happened . That was Mom's advice, but can I?

"Yeah?" I say, taking off my headphones.

Kayla lowers her voice. "Did Dad seem normal to you at breakfast?"

"Normal? How would I know what normal is for him?"

Kayla narrows her eyes. I'm protesting way too passionately.

"I mean, I guess so?" I shrug—no big deal. It's not like I care if his eyes glinted passionately whenever he looked at me or if I'm pretty sure he was mentally undressing me half the time. It's not like my body tingles with every look he sends me. "He seemed a little shocked."

"Mmm." Kayla nods. "Honestly, I thought he'd be angrier. We don't normally lie to each other. When Mom got too much to handle, and we couldn't ignore her addiction anymore, he became my mom as well as my dad. Not that he's feminine or anything like that," she laughs, her eyes getting a faraway look as though she's peering directly into the past. "But he's always been there, you know?"

I swallow. "I know. You're close."

Kayla frowns tightly. Heck. My tone got dark, resentful. Now she thinks she's rubbing the whole dad thing in my face. "Maci?—"

"It's not like that," I tell her. "Seriously."

That's part of being best friends. I don't need to expand on what I've said. She understands, smiling with relief.

"Do you want to know about Ethan?" she asks.

I smile. For a split second, it's like I forget the steamy nakedness in the pool. "Do you want me to want to know about Ethan?" I counter.

She clasps her hands together, getting dreamy-eyed. "We've talked so much since we matched. He takes so much interest in my projects. He knows a lot about fashion, which surprised me, especially since he's so manly , and…" She lowers her voice even more. "Last night, he told me he loved me after we, you know…"

"Wait a sec." I push my laptop aside. "How long have you known each other?"

She looks away. "Two weeks."

"Last night, was that the first time you met?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Listen, Kay, you're a lovable person. I'm not saying it's impossible he's telling the truth, but…"

She sighs. "Maybe he's trying to get in with the Larsons?"

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "I don't want to say it, but I don't want to see you hurt again, either."

"I know." She wrings her hands together. " Obviously , I know that's possible, but what if he's genuine? What if I finally found the one genuinely nice man in the whole country?"

"Then I'll be happy for you," I tell her. "But?—"

"I know. Be careful." She pauses. "It's not black and white, anyway."

"How so?"

"Maybe part of him does want to meet Dad because he's, well, Dad, but maybe the rest of him loves me. Two things can be true at once."

Before I can reply, she starts the steady sound of the sewing machine again. I pick up my laptop, thinking about what she said. Two things can be true: I want to be steamy with Lukas again, and I'd never do anything to hurt my best friend.

"Coffee?" I call over the sound of the machine a few minutes later.

"We just had some. Didn't you sleep last night? Is your mattress okay?"

"Guess it was the new environment," I reply, hoping she can't see the panic thrumming in me.

The truth is, I didn't sleep. I couldn't . Every time I closed my eyes, we were back in the pool. He was under the water, his passion making the bubbles pop on the surface as my sex heated up and sent pleasure tingling throughout my body.

When I step into the kitchen, he's there, my man. My best friend's dad . Not my man . Something is seriously wrong with me. He's at the coffee machine. I didn't hear him over the sound of the sewing machine and my music.

"Want one?" he asks, looking in my general direction, somewhere above my head, as though he finds it as difficult to look at me as I do at him.

"Sure, thank you."

"No problem."

I sit at the bar, picking at the countertop, then forcibly stop my hand. My breath is coming way too fast. Glancing behind me, I see Kayla on the other side of the cavernous open-plan room, focused on her work, the machine chugging away.

"I need to say something about yesterday," I whisper.

Across the kitchen divider, his body tenses. He keeps a fake smile glued to his face, just in case Kayla glances over. "Yeah?"

"Yes," I say. "Later…"

He nods. "I'll find you at the right moment."

That sends far too many hot signals dancing through me. I remember the heat of the water. His tongue. His lips against mine. His end against my core, trying to claim me.

"It's nothing like that ," I make clear.

He turns to the coffee machine, showing me his broad, muscled back through his T-shirt. I can't tell if he's pissed or relieved. After making my coffee, he passes it to me. Our hands brush. Temptation grips me. I carry the cup back into the living room, glancing at Kayla.

She offers me a smile, no clue I'm making secret plans behind her back.

Later, when Kayla is in the gym, I hear a tapping noise against my window. My heart flutters as I rush to the glass, pressing my face against it. Lukas is standing in the garden, a pile of stones in his hand. Even though we both know this is beyond wrong, he's got a smirk on his face, mirroring the smile that touches my lips.

Walking through the house, I consciously try to tame the smile. I take slow breaths to calm down the fluttering in my heart. The last thing I want is to let my deep, burning desire overtake common sense.

He leans against the wall in the garden, hands in his pockets, looking like a photo from a magazine. This isn't just a thought that randomly pops into my head; he's been in magazines many times. He's wearing a baggy T-shirt, maybe trying to hide those throbbing muscles. After seeing him naked, it's difficult not to strip away his clothes mentally.

"You wanted to talk?" he says.

I purposefully keep some distance between us. Kayla went into the gym only ten minutes ago, meaning we've got some time together. I nod, biting my lip. Then, I let my lip go when I see how feral it makes his expression. Does he like that? It doesn't matter what he likes.

"I need to say," I murmur, purposefully looking at the ground, "we can't do anything like that again. In fact, Lukas, it's probably better if we pretend that never happened."

"Can you do that?" he asks, an almost playful tone in his voice like he's subtly mocking me.

"It doesn't matter if I can do it," I tell him. "We have to do it."

He swallows, his strong, thick neck shifting. I wonder if he trains it in the gym or if it is naturally interwoven with powerful muscle. "I know," he says after a pause, "but I can't stop thinking about you."

I glare at him. I hope he buys it. I hope he can't see the lust sizzling through me from his words. He's making me want to do something completely nuts, like grab and kiss him.

Then he's got his hands on me, smoothing around my body. He pulls me against him, and suddenly, our lips are on each other. It feels so natural. So right . I moan as I move against him, but then I put my hand on his chest, ignoring the heat blazing through his T-shirt, and roughly push him away.

"No, Luke," I snap.

He smirks. "Only my closest friends call me Luke."

"Stop it." I step back, half hoping he'll close the distance again.

"That was our last kiss," he says grimly. "You're right, but if we're going to make this work, I'll have to be cold like the first time we saw each other here. I won't even be able to look at you for longer than a second. When we leave, you'll never see me again. I'll make sure of it."

"You say that like a threat," I mutter.

"It's just how it has to be," he says gruffly. "I didn't sleep a single minute last night. All I could do was lie awake, thinking about you: not just how sexy you were in the pool, not just your moans, not just your perfect, curvy virgin body. I was thinking about the dates we could go on and the long hours we could spend getting to know each other."

My heart pumps as my thoughts flurry to a future we can never have. "Maybe in another life," I murmur.

He raises his hand as if to touch me but then lets it fall. With a sigh, he turns and almost turns back. Then he returns quickly to the house. He moves fast, as though not trusting himself to walk the short distance without losing his resolve and grabbing me again.

I stay outside for a while, looking at the pool, remembering how he looked when he climbed from it naked, the water glistening on his body. It seemed so lighthearted then—playful, somehow. Wrong, sure, but innocent compared to what we did last night.

The dates we could've gone on. An image of Lukas and me stabs into my thoughts. He's wearing a suit, and I'm wearing a glittering dress that proudly hugs my body. I don't feel any shame about my shape when my arm interlocks with his. He leans down and whispers, "This will be the best night of our lives. Let's not think about how wrong it is."

Shimmers dance over me as I stare at the water, wishing I could leap in and emerge in that impossible dream.

I'll have to do what Lukas said for the rest of the stay. Be cold and distant. Don't even look at him, and after— gulp —we'll never see each other again.