“Exactly.”
“Separate bedrooms are what will make this marriage work.”
“I agree. No fucking.”
“Fucking is not good in this marriage.”
He laughed.
“And falling in love with my husband...”
“That would be disastrous!”
“Absolutely.”
“This marriage can’t last on love and passionate nights of lovemaking.”
“So, no love. NO lovemaking. That is the recipe for this perfect marriage.”
“Absolutely.”
How on earth was she going to sit beside him in a car and not climb all over him? Now that she knew what it felt like to have his hands on her body, his tongue in her mouth. It was a million times more difficult to keep from touching him or kissing him.
“The car should be here by now. We can go.”
Luke offered her his arm at the door of the gym. She reached for it automatically. But when her fingers curled over his hard bicep, a sizzle went through her. She flashed on the image of herself straddling his lap, of his hands guiding her rocking hips as his length plunged inside her. A flush flooded her skin, and she jerked her hand away from his arm. It had been really stupid to touch him again. Paige yanked back from him and staggered a little. When he reached out to steady her, she shied away and fell.
She fell onto the sidewalk, rolling her ankle painfully and landing with a cry on the pavement. She bit down on her lip to keep from bursting into tears. She was so lonely, so sexually frustrated that she’d tripped over her own feet trying to escape from the most attractive man she’d ever met.
He was on his knees beside her in an instant, asking if she was okay, reaching for her to help her up. She shook her head, tears standing in her eyes. She touched her ankle gingerly, and pain shot up her leg. She’d have to get up slowly, and even then, she might need his help.
“My ankle,” she whispered.
People on the sidewalk were stopping to stare. Because there she was, sprawled out on the pavement beside a handsome man. She struggled to sit up. Before she could protest, Luke’s arm went around her back, the other beneath her knees. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the waiting Town Car. A chauffeur held open the door as if this were a commonplace occurrence, as if his employer frequently picked up injured women from the pavement and deposited them in his vehicle. Maybe he did. Maybe he was a modern-day knight in shining armor who dazzled women with his charm and kissing skills, then had to pick them up bodily when they were bowled over by his sex appeal. It wasn’t impossible, but she vowed not to mention it to him. His ego was bad enough as it was already.
She scooted over to make room for him in the seat, but he caught her legs, draped them across his lap. He deftly removed her shoe as the car pulled away from the curb. He examined the injured foot, his fingers closing over her toes as he rotated her ankle first one way and then the other.
“Not broken,” he observed, “probably just a sprain. You’ll need to ice it and elevate it tonight. If you need to take off work tomorrow...”
“I’m not taking off work for falling and hurting myself!” she blurted out, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. If anyone should, it’s myself. I offered you my arm, and you were so repulsed that you fell down trying to get away from me.” He chuckled.
“I was not repulsed. I just shouldn’t have touched you. It’s—I have some kind of reaction to you touching me.”
“Reaction? Like an allergy? That’s hardly flattering.” He teased.
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s the opposite. Like, we’re sitting here now, my ankle’s throbbing, and my legs are in your lap, and instead of thinking how stupid I feel, my nerves are firing on all cylinders with some kind of—mating imperative.”
“What?”
“Mating imperative. I saw it on a science show. I do watch documentaries sometimes,” she said. “The thing is, it’s a biological drive. And mostly I don’t notice it, or even notice that I’m lonely. But with you, it’s like you woke me up. Like whatever calm state I was in has just been blown apart by kissing you. So my body is like this—this rabid animal that wants to get a hold of you,” she gave a nervous laugh. “I feel like I can’t trust myself. Like I’m wild and out of control. It’s really embarrassing, and I’m sorry I’ve acted so stupid.”
“You haven’t acted stupid. But I can’t apologize for igniting those feelings in you. You shouldn’t be asleep or dormant or anything of the sort. With a body like yours, with a personality like yours, I can’t see how men aren’t lining up to offer their services. I guess they’re blind and useless.”
“Thank you, I think. But I still feel like a pathetic horndog. I’m panting after my boss. It’s the tackiest thing possible.”
“I won’t hear such talk about you. You agreed to two dates with me. If I happened to kiss you and you happened to like it, I don’t see how that should be cause for shame. That’s called chemistry. And damn do we have it.”