Star Crossed (5 page)

The noise echoed in her ears even after she’d finished going. Luke didn’t let go of her, though his hold on her was gentle.

Less gentle were the half moon marks her fingernails left on his obliging hand.

“Sorry,” she said, rubbing them in embarrassment.

He smiled at her. “You know I’m not complaining.”

“No, you’re not.” Lifting one arm, she strafed her nails more carefully through the scruff on his angular cheek and jaw. The splint on his nose reminded her why they weren’t having wild bunny sex right now. “Are you okay?”

He kissed the thumb she was dragging across his killer mouth. “I’m not experiencing any more discomfort than you’d expect, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“That was an excellent hand job.”

“You’re welcome,” he responded humorously.

“I doubt I’m as good as you.”

His grin flashed bright. “Under the circumstances, you shouldn’t worry. I’ll appreciate whatever assistance you offer.”

He made a Vanna White gesture toward his boner, which was bulging impressively. A.J. wasn’t normally coquettish, but her tongue snuck over her upper lip.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s see what you’ve got for me to work on.”

He’d been lying on his side next to her, his lower arm bent beneath his head. Now he stretched that arm toward her, letting her rest her cheek on it. Liking that for more reasons than she could identify, she trailed her hand down his unnaturally smooth torso.

“Manscaping,” he explained—as if she hadn’t known. “The agency likes their guys to do it.”

She explored his ridged abdominal muscles, suspecting they’d cast great shadows in photographs. Manscaped or not, he’d left a line of hair beneath his navel that arrowed toward his crotch. The branded waist of his underwear crossed the head of his erection. A.J. eased the band out farther and slid her hand in there.

“Mm,” he hummed as her fingers closed gently around him.

Jesus, he was hot. She made a ring to stroke his silky smoothness, not really starting yet, just getting the feel of his length and breadth. Doing her had gotten him worked up. His pulse was throbbing hard already.

“Do you like lube?” she asked.

“Sometimes. But right now I like your bare hand better.”

Everything he said seemed designed to flatter her.

“I won’t touch your balls,” she promised, mindful of his injury.

“Okay,” he said, his voice thicker.

“You should shift your upper leg. Maybe rest it over mine.”

He did as she suggested, rubbing her calf in a friendly way with his foot. He sure was a people person, probably sweet like this with every bed partner. At the moment, she didn’t mind. Actually, she was kind of in awe of him.

She was prickly enough to count as a misanthrope.

“That’s nice,” he said, wriggling at the gentle up and down of her hand.

“Not too slow?”

“Nuh-uh. In case you haven’t noticed, I could do this all night.”

“My arm would fall off.”

He laughed almost silently. “I guess it would. Maybe you could tighten your hold a bit.”

She tightened and was delighted to see his vision go unfocused.

“Boy,” he said on a gasp. “That’s a strong grip you’ve got. No. Don’t ease up. You so are not hurting me.”

He let her watch him go up the slope, let her hear his breath go choppy and see each incremental flush of excitement wash through his face and chest.

“You are so beautiful,” he said as more muscles in his gorgeous body began to tense.

“That’s your cock talking.”

“My cock has excellent taste— Jesus.” He broke off as she put a subtle twist into her next upward pull. All her fingers clasped him now, her palm molding and rubbing at the same time.

“Good?” she asked, wanting the feedback.

“Unh,” he grunted, his hips bucking greedily toward her.

His breath hissed as his enthusiasm inadvertently knocked his testicles.

“Shh,” she soothed, backing off.

He caught her wrist and held her hand to him. “Don’t stop. I am right on the fucking edge.”

Adrenaline flooded her . . . and sexual awareness. Her heart beat inside her pussy, her clit sharp with excitement.

She loved the knowledge that she had power over him.

“I won’t stop,” she promised huskily. “Maybe I can bring you over softer.”

His handsome features were so flushed he looked drunk. She nudged him onto his back and shifted her position. She folded down his briefs until his stiff throbbing penis was uncovered. He struggled onto his elbows, watching her with his jaw open. His long legs sprawled without her pushing them. A.J. swung on her knees between them. His cock was shuddering, its slit seeping excitement.

“Jesus,” he said as she lowered her head to him.

His shaft slid into her mouth like butter.

He moaned and his head fell back, his hips undulating like a stripper’s as she worked her lips and tongue along him. His veins had the most incredible texture. She steadied his swollen base with her thumb and fingers, giving her mouth a comfortable stopping point.

“Christ,” he said, his bent left leg hitching up to slap her shoulder.

A.J. intensified her suction.

He groaned, one hand forming a fist that thumped the bedcovers.

She guessed he didn’t want to grab her head and maybe scare her—not when she was doing precisely what he wished. Moved by that in more ways than one, she put her sweetest all into finishing him.

He took about five seconds to hit the limit of his control.

“One more,” he said, his voice as thin as a trail of smoke. “Then I have to pull out.”

She gave him one more slo-ow snug-lipped, hard-tonguing suck.

Even as his crown pulled free, he gasped. His jism sprayed her, catching her in the chin and neck. When he finished, she wiped it off with her forearm.

His elbows still propped him up, though his torso had gone concave while he tried to catch his breath.

“C’mere,” he said.

A.J. tensed. “I’m not a snuggler.”

“
Bawk
,” he clucked, daring her.

That made her laugh, so she squirmed up beside him. Since he didn’t try to squeeze her to him, she laid her head on his hard shoulder.

“That’s not so bad,” he said. “And think how easy it’ll be to check for concussions when you’re right there.”

“Idiot,” she muttered.

“I’m a rube,” he said, mock offended. “That’s not the same at all.”

She was tired and warm, so she let herself relax temporarily. She’d get up in in a minute. He’d never know. She could feel him drifting off to sleep already.

*

A.J. woke to an empty bed but not an empty apartment. Luke’s scent—part man, part cologne—lingered in her sheets. She heard his voice in the living room.

Uncertain how she felt about sleeping with him all night, she pulled on sufficient clothes not to shock her neighbors and shuffled out to check.

He was by her front windows, back in trousers but still without a shirt. One hand was clamped behind his neck, his body language tense as he spoke to someone on his cell phone. A.J. saw the ingredients for an omelet set out on her kitchen counter: eggs, cheese, milk, plus a ceramic bowl for mixing them together.

Coffee was her priority. She stoked her electric percolator with enough grounds for two.

Her attention half on that and half on Luke’s yummy wedge-shaped back, she noticed the moment the call ended. He stared out the window, rubbing his forehead with the back of the same hand that held the phone. Since she didn’t know how long he’d stand there, she started breaking the eggs he’d set out.

At the sound of her whipping them, he turned and came to her. “I was going to do that.”

Perfectly willing to hand off the task, A.J. slid the bowl and the whisk to him. She guessed he thought that was funny. He laughed as he took over.

“Everything okay?” she asked, pulling out mugs for both of them.

“Well, the agency isn’t happy. I’m going to miss my go-sees today, but at least they’re not dropping me.”

She doctored her coffee with milk and sugar and slid his to him black. He was so skinny no way did he take it with anything.

“Milk?” he asked, apparently determined to prove her wrong.

A.J. passed him the carton. He poured, stirred, then drank and let out a sigh. Fortified, he picked up the whisk again.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Any morning after regrets?”

“I don’t know. I need more caffeine before I decide.”

He shook his head. “You don’t make this easy on a guy.”

What was there to make easy? Yes, he’d spent the night, but they were just ships that had crossed course by accident. What’s more, their cargo was oranges and apples—not each other’s type at all. Her clueless stare made Luke knuckle his forehead. He peered at her for longer than she expected.

“There’s something about you,” he said. “Something different. I’d be interested in seeing you again.”

“You’d be interested.” She guessed her disbelief was clear.

“Yes,” he said exasperatedly.

“Am I supposed to thank you for wanting to put me in your rotation for booty calls?”

Luke let the whisk clack into the bowl. “I don’t have a rotation.”

“So if I check your phone, it won’t be full of girls’ numbers.”

He flushed—which should have been less attractive than it was, considering his splinted nose. “Just because a girl gives me her number doesn’t mean I’ll sleep with her.”

“Then you’re
not
putting me in your rotation. Guess I’m not good enough.”

She’d succeeded in flustering him. “That isn’t what I said.”

A.J. cracked a little smile. He was kind of fun to tease.

Realizing she had, he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. I’d like to see you again. Maybe even . . . put my rotation on hold while I do.”

A.J.’s humor bled away, replaced by weariness. He couldn’t mean this. She was honest enough to know she wasn’t emotionally easy—which was what guys like him wanted. That’s why they had rotations: to keep any one girl from getting a hold on them. More to the point, she didn’t have the energy to pretend she was duped. “You see that?” She pointed to the grease-spattered clock above her stove.

“It’s 8:22,” he said.

“It’s 8:22 on a Wednesday morning. Normally, I’d be at work by now. Instead, my life is a wreck, my reputation is in shambles, and I’ve got enough in my bank account to cover about a month’s expenses.”

“You’ll find a job. No way would a sharp woman like you not end up on her feet.”

She fought the pleasant feeling his words gave her. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” Luke braced his elbows on her counter, his posture giving every indication he’d listen to any troubles she cared to share. A.J. actually had to fight not to rest her head on his broad shoulder.

“The point is I don’t have the time or inclination to babysit some lost lamb lothario.”

“Oh that’s nice.” Obviously offended, he pushed upright again. Within the purpling bruises, his eyes were hurt.

“Nothing against you,” she said, ignoring a twinge of guilt. “You’re not breaking any laws by getting lucky with lots of girls. I’m just telling you where I stand.”

He stared at her. “All right. I’ll get my things and go.”

He gathered them without drama, which kind of surprised her. His dress shirt was in the bathroom, no longer bloody but slightly damp. He dragged it on unbuttoned and found his jacket and socks. He sat on the couch to pull on his fancy shoes.

While he dressed, A.J. busied herself continuing to whisk the eggs. Given how silent he’d been, she figured he wouldn’t speak again.

She was almost right. He stopped at the door next to her small kitchen, facing the line of deadbolts and not her. His shapely hand scrubbed the back of his beautifully shorn hair. Against her will, A.J.’s throat tightened.

Was she crazy not to have fun with him for however long she could?

“Do you need help with the locks?” she asked. People probably didn’t use so many in farm country. He might not be used to them.

“Fuck,” he cursed and dug out his wallet.

A.J.’s eyebrows shot up. If he meant to pay her for last night, she’d treat him to a few choice words. He corrected her assumption by slapping a plain white rectangle on her counter. It had his name, his cell number, and under that the single word
MODEL
.

“This is my card,” he said. “I don’t care how screwed up your life is. I think we could have something. If you change your mind about seeing if we do, call me.”

A.J. didn’t have much experience being stunned. He turned away while she was gaping. Unfortunately for both their nerves, he couldn’t get her locks open on his first try. A.J. came around the counter to sort them out for him. She opened the door and held it.

“A.J.,” he said, giving her one last chance.

She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t her type—not as a fashion model or a farm boy. Even if the timing had been right, she might have let him walk away.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I get the message. Have a nice life, sweetheart.”

If he meant to be snarky, his parting shot didn’t quite come out that way.

She shut the door behind him and leaned on it. She told herself she’d made the right decision. Her priority had to be getting her shit together.

Appetite nonexistent, she dumped the eggs she’d beaten into the sink. One person couldn’t eat that many anyway. As she ran them down the drain with water, a sound she didn’t like the feel of tore from her throat. She swallowed the noises that tried to follow, swiping at her eyes irritatedly.

The wish that her mother were close enough to run to was powerful. For a moment, her heart squeezed too tight to beat. She threw off that reaction too. Life had kicked her, but she’d get up again.

Sometimes a woman had to do what she had to do.

*

Luke hesitated on the landing outside A.J.’s door. He didn’t know why he couldn’t leave. Though he was lucky when it came to women, he’d been turned down before. No matter how a rejection stung his ego, he shrugged it off and moved on.

A.J.’s rejection hadn’t sounded like he could charm her out of it.