The waitress returned with their food and the subject was dropped while they dug in. They enjoyed their meal and made small talk about work, food, and Benevolence. She felt relaxed, remarkably, considering that most of her time with Luke was spent wavering between extremes of nervousness and lust.
It was a constant battle that she hoped would dull soon. It was embarrassing that every time she saw him shirtless, she had to stop herself from licking her lips.
The band in the other room switched to a slower tune. Harper gasped as the first few chords of the Jeff Healey Band’s “Angel Eyes” echoed through the room. “I love this song, Luke! This is my all-time favorite romantic fantasy song. Dance with me?”
“Romantic fantasy?”
“There are all kinds of fantasies, Luke. Romantic, orgasmic ...”
“No one else is dancing.”
“Who cares? We don’t know anyone here. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Is that how you make decisions? ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’” he mimicked, tossing imaginary long hair.
Harper ignored his question and tugged him out of the booth towards the floor in front of the band. He was right. No one else was dancing, but someone always had to be first.
Luke’s grip stopped her where she was and he pulled her back into his arms. Her breasts flattened against his warm, solid chest, their mouths an inch apart. Luke’s hands splayed across her back holding her to him.
“You’re not dancing,” he whispered.
She could almost taste his words.
Harper bit her lip to keep from biting his and wound her arms around his neck. She didn’t have to pull him closer. He came willingly.
He led and she followed. Her attention was on every sensation that touching him ignited. One hand slid higher to rest gently over her bruised ribs. His palm and thumb intimately hugging the curve of her breast.
She knew he could feel her heart pounding, knew he could hear her short breaths.
They swayed together, oblivious to anything but the music and each other. Luke pulled her closer. She could feel the length of him hardening against her.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he growled.
“Like what?” Her voice was breathless.
“Like you want me to take your clothes off and taste every inch of your body.”
She felt the dull ache at her core increase to a steady, hollow throb. He was a freaking mind reader.
“I wasn’t thinking that,” she lied. “I was thinking about ... dessert.”
“Liar.” His hand skimmed the swell of her breast on its way up to gently brush her hair back from her face. He grinned when she gave a breathy gasp. His erection twitched against her and she knew she wasn’t the only one thinking about ... dessert.
She didn’t notice when the song ended, but Luke did.
Hands on her shoulders, he pushed her back a step, breaking the spell. Harper’s cheeks flushed. She had completely lost track of their surroundings. She hadn’t even noticed that other couples had joined them on the floor.
Luke kept her hand and led her back to the table.
“Well, that was some fantasy,” she sighed, sliding back into the booth, her cheeks flushed.
“We should probably head back. I have an early day tomorrow.”
His tone was flat, but his voice was rough. There was something going on beneath the surface, but Harper couldn’t tell what it was.
The check was waiting for them, and when Harper reached for it, Luke snatched it out of her grip. “Not gonna happen, sweetheart.”
“I asked you to dinner. This is my treat,” Harper said, reaching across the table.
“No.” It was a refusal more solid than the stone walls surrounding them.
“Luke —” she tried again.
“Harper. No. Now finish your beer.”
She frowned at him. One little physical reaction and he turned into a statue.
***
Luke kept Harper’s hand in his and half dragged her to the parking lot where the sound of crickets was carried on cool air. He pulled her towards the Beetle’s passenger door. “I’ll drive.” He stopped her before she opened the door by putting his hand on it. “Look, I have to set something straight here.”
Harper leaned back against the car and Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “This can’t happen.”
“What exactly can’t happen?” She looked amused.
He glared at her. She was going to make him say it. “We can’t complicate things with sex.”
“What’s so complicated about sex?”
“Harper,” he growled.
“Sorry. Please continue.” She smiled, and he wanted to throttle her.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think that we’re going to start some romantic affair —”