Fixed Up (11 page)

Harper contemplated the colour of her wine—a rich, ruby red—swirling it around the glass before taking a sip. She held it in her mouth for a beat before swallowing. The wine tasted better than her usual cheap plonk, the velvety liquid lubricating her throat, warming her insides and giving her a little buzz.

‘A top up?' said Luke.

‘I should probably say no,' said Harper.
But then the evening would end
. They'd finished their meal and the dishes had been cleared away. Most of the diners had gone from the restaurant and the staff were discreetly cleaning up across the room. ‘It is Monday …'

‘So it is. It's been a bit of a weird one today.' Luke looked towards the darkened windows, as if he could see through them. ‘Sounds like the weather's finally settled down out there. Life should resume as normal tomorrow.'

Suddenly the thought of her life resuming as normal seemed sucky. It also occurred to Harper that she didn't know what Luke's normal was; what he did when he wasn't lounging around in the back of her classroom. ‘What's your normal Tuesday then?'

‘Depends what's going on,' Luke said. ‘My construction company is closed until the end of the week. We always close for three weeks after Christmas, and normally I'd be away at the beach.'

‘At your ritzy holiday house, somewhere in the Coromandel, I suppose?'

‘It's not that ritzy. But it is in the Coromandel. You should come with me some time. Do you surf?'

‘Surf? No. Do you?'

‘Yeah. Any chance I get.' Luke's fingers toyed idly with the stem of his wineglass. Harper's gaze fixed on them. Long, strong fingers on squarish hands. Her gaze moved up his forearms, tanned skin roughened with dark hair. She tried to stop her gaze roving to his broad shoulders and to stop her imagination as she pictured him running up the beach in board shorts. Athletic body, sun-kissed skin. She'd thought his eyes were the colour of a moody southern lake, but tonight with the candlelight reflecting in them she could see the wild blue-grey of the sea, sunlight sparkling across it.

A deep-buried longing, a pang in her chest, surprised her with its intensity. Surprised her, but for once didn't terrify her. Luke reached across the table to casually lift her hand and she didn't jerk away as she once would have, but enjoyed the caress of his fingers as he angled her wrist to look at her watch. His hand lingered, sending tiny pulses of sensation into her, each pulse a furtive reminder that something electrifying was happening between them. Whether she wanted it or not.

She shifted in her seat, her feet colliding with Luke's under the table. This time neither of them moved and she imagined her legs tangling with his. She could feel the hard bone of his shin, the muscled calf, the solidness of him against her own leg.

‘It's ten o'clock,' said Luke. ‘We should head off or you'll be knackered tomorrow.'

He was right, but she still didn't want the evening to end. She wasn't ready for tomorrow to come.

‘And if you so much as whimper about paying the bill, you're walking home,' he said.

They drove back to Harper's house in an easy silence, enjoying the soft music playing from the car's speakers. Harper closed her eyes and let the moment wash over her. She might even have dozed off for a second, as next thing she knew Luke had pulled into her driveway, switched off the engine and was sitting back in his driver's seat looking at her. She stared back, not sure what to do next. Not sure what he was going to do next. She knew she wanted to kiss him but didn't know how to go about it. Should she get out of the car, invite him in, or just go for the dive-bomb lip lock right now?

She rubbed her slightly sweaty palms up and down her jeans. Swallowed. The light-headedness might have been from the wine, but her sneaking suspicion was it had more to do with the slow smile he gave her as he reached across to push her hair back behind her ear. The light lingering touch of his finger stirred a craving, a slow burn that had been building all day.

Harper flushed under his close scrutiny, heat spreading through her body. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her own ears and when she swallowed again it seemed too exaggerated. Too much heat, too much saliva, too many breaths. Her body gave her away and all the while he smiled
that
smile. The x-ray smile that said he could see right through her. Through her clothes, her thoughts and her bullshit.

On any other day of the year she'd have got out of the car and run as fast as she could, slamming her shabby front door behind her. Locking him out. But today everything had been different. She'd been different, and she'd liked how it felt. Who she'd been. What it had achieved.

And she wanted to feel his lips. His hands on her. Her fingers shook ever so slightly as she reached out to gently touch the light stubble on his jaw. Acquiescence in the form of a need to touch and explore. Luke pressed a kiss into her palm and linked his fingers through hers. Her insides vibrated and her lips numbed. ‘Do you want to come in?' she said. She held her too-loud breath.

‘Hell yeah,' said Luke, his smile widening. ‘Wasn't expecting you to ask though.' He was out of the car leading her up the garden path in seconds and she felt his hand on the small of her back, sliding across silky fabric, as she fumbled in her bag for her key.

Then they were inside and she wasn't sure if she'd thrown herself at him or not, because she was already in his arms kissing as if all life on earth depended on it. Rough, unstoppable kisses drenched in greedy insistence, the shock of his mouth on hers so much better than those dreams she'd had about him. Luke was solid beneath her as he lifted her, adjusted her to fit and she found her legs wrapped around his waist, her back pressed against the wall and sensation after sensation flooding through her.

She bit back a moan.
How did I get so desperate?
When had the urge to kiss and touch a man ever seemed so shatteringly important? And shatter she would, if she didn't have him here and now.

Or maybe not exactly here, deep in the sawdust of her incomplete home renovation. ‘Bedroom.' She gasped into his mouth in between the drive of tongues and pull of lips.

‘You sure?' Luke's reply was rough, questioning, even as his mouth trailed a heated pathway down her throat. A token question she answered by pointing down the hallway to her bedroom door.

He had her through the door and they were on the bed in a scorching millisecond. Harper's body screamed with anticipation. Desperate for him to tug off her clothes and thrust himself into her, to crush the wanting that pooled deep within and made her entire body quiver with impatience.

But he didn't. His hands gentled and slowed to a light stroking movement that caused her silky top to slip and slide across her stomach. This time she couldn't stop the moan from whimpering out of her as he ran his hands across her, now sliding under the fabric to touch skin, his little finger edging in a teasing movement under the waist band of her jeans. He tortured her till she squirmed with frustration and pulled him on top of her, the crush of his hard body a victory in what seemed to Harper like a battle. Luke's attempts to savour the moment out of sync with Harper's need to feel the slap of skin on skin. Too far gone to want teasing, she looked deep into Luke's eyes.
Don't make me beg.

Understanding reflected in his face. His eyes darkened to the colour of gunmetal and his teeth bared in a carnal smile. ‘Princess, you're full of surprises,' he said, before his mouth crushed down to claim her in a devouring kiss.

She knew she was as far from princess-like as anyone could possibly be, but some secret part of her appreciated the sentiment, appreciated he might see her differently from the way she viewed herself. The way he embraced her as if she was the most amazing creature on earth. The way he made her feel she could do no wrong. Her confidence grew with every touch, every kiss.

‘You're beautiful,' he said. ‘I can't get enough of you.' He pulled her jeans down, over her bare feet and off. She helped him along by removing her top, tossing it aside onto the floor. She lay beside him on the bed, for one second feeling the awkwardness of wearing her skimpy underwear while he was still fully clothed. A cool breeze played across her bare skin, a contrast to the blazing heat of his body. She tugged at his shirt.

‘Off,' she said. He obliged, and bare-chested, he skimmed quickly out of his jeans, the rough hairs of his legs brushing across her smoothness, his hardness pressing against her softness. Hot skin met hot skin, and her hips jerked at the touch. This time it was Luke who groaned and as he pressed his sinful mouth, hungry and insistent against her breast, Harper lost herself to the pleasure.

Luke cracked open an eye and flinched at the harsh light. Not his bedroom then. He lay still, sprawled on his stomach, arms under the pillow. Memory tumbled in, pulling from him a deep, satisfied sigh.
Harper. Finally
. Warmth spread through his body, a slow unfurling that brought a smile to his lips and a lightness to his chest.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harper's silky top, puddled on the floor. His smile widened and he closed his eyes again, holding onto the recollection of the night before, savouring the memory of each sweet sensation. His instincts had told him Harper was worth the wait, worth the effort, but he'd never guessed she'd be such a wildcat in bed. Or that they'd connect so well.

Bonus
.

And he couldn't wait for Round Two.

He rolled over to face Harper as she slept, curled on her side. Her eyes still closed, she breathed evenly and he reached out to lightly skim his fingers along her jawline. The softness of her skin made his fingers tingle. He edged a little closer, breathing her in, his eyes feasting on her—the little mole above her breast he'd kissed last night, her eyelashes fluttering dark against flushed cheeks.

His finger traced lower, stopping only when Harper grunted and rolled out of reach. A frown crinkled between his eyebrows. Harper clutched her pillow the way a drowning man would a lifesaver, and she rolled as far to the edge of the bed as possible. Away from him.

Gently he eased her back to the middle of the bed to hold her in his arms, but without waking she pulled away again.
Not a snuggler then
. Luke scratched the back of his scalp. It was only day one and they had all the time in the world to get it right. He stretched, enjoying the pull of relaxed muscles.

‘Stop looking at me.' Harper's voice sounded sexier than ever as she rasped at him from the other side of the bed. Slowly, holding the pillow to cover her breasts, she rolled to an upright position and arranged the duvet so she could sit up, modestly covered. Her hair stuck out around her in a delightful bed-headed mess and on her neck was evidence of what Luke and his mates would've once called pash-rash.

‘It's too late to tell me not to look. I've already seen it all,' Luke smiled as he reached out to pull her in closer. Harper flinched and Luke's hand stopped in its track as if by an invisible force field. Harper's piss-off vibes had returned with a vengeance.

Luke rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as the warmth drained out of him. He clenched his fists, then taking a deep breath forced his hands to relax. ‘Regretting last night already then?'

Harper's brown eyes looked overly bright as she stared at him across the huge expanse of duvet. He lifted an eyebrow, cocking his head.

Harper attempted a weak smile. ‘I don't regret the sex.'

‘You did appear to enjoy it at the time,' he said sitting up to face her. She flushed—from the swell of her breasts right up her neck. His gaze followed the moving colour as it made its way high onto her cheeks. ‘In fact, like the proverbial vampire, you invited me right in,' he said.

‘Which means you'll never leave now, huh?' Like her smile, the laugh she attempted was weak, but too close to the bone for Luke to see anything remotely funny. He'd experienced a few awkward morning-afters in his time, but this one was off the charts as Harper freaked out before his eyes, killing his afterglow.

She cleared her throat. ‘I'm not very good at this stuff.'

‘That's just a cop-out. I'm a black and white sort of guy. You either like me or you don't. Your choice.'

‘I do like you …' She shrugged her bare shoulders and her hair flopped forwards to partially obscure her expression.

‘But?'

‘But this isn't a good time for me. I've got too much other stuff going on at the moment to be involved with you.' She rubbed her temples as if he was giving her a headache. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't you think it's a bit late to decide not to get involved?' She winced again, ducking her head to avoid eye contact. He continued, his tone moderate, encouraging. ‘Don't you think we worked well together yesterday? I can help you out with all your “stuff”. That's what boyfriends do.'

She looked up at that. ‘You're
still
not my boyfriend.'

Luke flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles. His smile felt like a twisted grimace as he grabbed his phone and looked at the time. ‘I'll leave you to your denial. Got a busy day. I might see you if I drop Mum off at your class.'

‘Yes. It's great she and your aunt are doing the second week too …' Harper's voice trailed away. Luke didn't give a rat's arse about his mother and aunt right now. He looked at the door, then the floor, sussing out the location of his underwear and jeans in order to make the get-away faster.

He jumped out of bed and pulled his clothes on, aware Harper's attention was politely elsewhere. He stumbled into his pants, pulled his shirt over his head popping a button in his haste. Shoving his socks into his pockets and his feet into his shoes he half-hopped round the side of the bed to Harper. ‘Bye then,' he said. She released one hand from its duvet clutch and waved.