Page 7 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
Chapter 3
“How could I turn down an invitation from the exact woman I’ve been waiting to meet since I started driving?”
I laughed. For real.
“Nice line. Good sincerity. Don’t tell me you’re a starving actor driving with Uber to make a living?”
The car stopped in front of Margo’s building and I waited for his answer. Then I realized I didn’t remember his name and I looked down at my phone, thumbing the Uber app to life and trying not to be too obvious.
“No. That’s not my story.”
I nodded while I scrolled.
“My name is Lucas.”
If I hadn’t realized how out of sorts I was before, the blush that instantly heated my entire face cemented the truth. The old Melissa was gone and the new me had an expressive, blushing face and was reckless enough to invite a perfect stranger to a party just because he set her panties on fire.Damn.
“Oh, I—” I had no idea what to say. The new Melissa had no poise and was prone to stammering.Great.
He smiled. I felt heat of a different kind light me up. He had a classic chiseled face to go with his intense blue eyes. And that mouth reminded me of a cupid statue I’d seen at a museum.
Then I came to some semblance of my senses and slapped myself inside my head for acting like I was sizing him up for a potential gene pool contributor to my future children.
“It’s okay. I know how rattled you are. Today is different for you, but it’s a good thing that you’re letting your inhibitions go. All that pent-up passion is no good.”
“Pent-up passion? Who, me?”
He chuckled low and I felt the vibration rumble deep inside me, right down to the V between my legs. Finding I still had the ability for penting up some passion, I kept myself from squirming. I also stopped myself from leaning over and sucking on that mouth of his, which I found surprisingly difficult.
Maybe he was right about that passion. I hoped I could keep it all pent-up before I got myself into big trouble. Maybe I should take back my invitation.
But when he reached out and put a hand on my cheek, caressing it with his strong rough fingers, I forgot all about disinviting him to the party.
“I’ll need to go home and change. What time do you want me to be back?”
Don’t ever leave. “How about in an hour?”
“I’ll see you then.”
The air felt warm and thick with something that made my limbs slow and my blood fast. His hand still caressed my face and I turned to smell that scent of him, like woods and danger, and something mysterious that must be all him.
“You’ll tell me your story then,” I said.
He nodded and took his hand away and looked at the steering wheel as I opened the door. I had the sense he was holding back and that it was unfair. But I let it go and stepped outside into a gust of cold wind. He got out too. I’d forgotten about my bags and would have left them in his car.
My mind seemed to have disappeared along with my inhibitions.
He went around and took the bags out of the back seat and the trunk and he carted them all to the front door where the doorman took over. Then he stood in front of me, towering big and strong with his hands in his pockets. He wore a leather bomber jacket that didn’t look very warm. I stifled the urge to wrap myself around him.
Maybe my ability to control my passion had returned to full force. Maybe I would regret inviting him. But as I stood there looking at him, wanting him to kiss me as if this was the end of our first date, which was insanity, Ididn’tregret inviting him and in fact, I couldn’t wait until he returned. I wanted to know his story more than anything. More than figuring out my future.
Then it hit me.He was a distraction.
So what? I was entitled to a distraction. This one night. Before I returned to reality. Before I returned to my parents’ home. My back went rigid at the thought. He must have sensed it because his expression became concerned and he stepped closer.
“You okay?”
I wondered again why he would care. He sounded like he really did.
