Beautiful Storm (San Francisco End Game #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Amelia

L uke arrives within ten minutes of me getting home, making me rush. I assumed I’d have at least half an hour to tidy up before he arrived. But nope, he’s here.

“Did you actually say goodbye to anyone, or just walk away?”

“Did you?” he counters with a raised brow.

“I spoke to Hayley but she decided to stay, and I waved to Keeley. I wanted to say goodbye to your sister and Thomas, but I couldn’t find them.”

Luke chuckles. “Don’t worry about them. Soon you’ll be seeing them so much you’ll be begging me to get you away.”

“Why?”

“Lainey loves kids. And she loves being an auntie to Dylan and Summer’s kids. If you’re not careful, she’ll move in here.”

“They don’t have kids of their own, right? I think that’s what Thomas said.”

“They don’t. But you never know with those two. They follow their own rules. So they tell me.”

“Kind of like us? We’re in a very nontraditional relationship.”

“We’re in a relationship now? Good to know.”

“Shut up.” My heart pounds when he winks at me. “The nursery is this way.” I change the subject. “The sooner we start, the sooner you can leave.”

Luke chuckles again before following me into the nursery—which is actually my bedroom—and I hold my breath, waiting for whatever remark he’s going to throw my way.

He takes a moment as he frowns before turning to face me. “Do you like it here?” he asks, perhaps holding his judgment until I answer.

“It’s close to everything and comes with a parking space. That’s not easy to find.”

“No, it’s not. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not how I pictured raising my child, but it’s mine and it’s home.”

“Does that mean you’d be opposed to me buying you a bigger house?” Luke invades my personal space as he bounces his eyebrows. “With a separate bedroom for Bean.”

“Yes, definitely.” I push him away. “As ‘ opposed’ as one could be. You’re already doing enough. Which reminds me. We didn’t do a prenup. Is there any way around that? Something you can do after-the-fact?”

“What?” Luke huffs out a laugh. “Are you scared I’m going to take your framed movie posters in the divorce?” He tilts his head toward the two frames I have hanging in my room. One for Labyrinth —my favorite movie—and one for The Shawshank Redemption —the movie that made me want to be a film director.

“Are you mocking me?” I frown. I love those pictures.

“What? No, I actually want them. I remember watching Labyrinth with you as a kid.”

“You remember that?” I’d somehow forgotten.

“Yep. It traumatized me when those fiery things pulled out their eyes.” He shivers, making me laugh. “But David Bowie was cool.”

“He was. Though I wasn’t worried about you taking any of my possessions. It was more about me—”

“What do you want, Joy? Whatever it is, it’s yours. We don’t need a prenup.”

“What? No. That’s not what I’m saying.” Luke laughs again and I have to shake my head. “You drive me crazy; you know that?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s why we work.” He walks over to the boxes of furniture I have laid out on the floor after once again catching me off guard. “Where should we start?” he asks, snapping me back into the present as I hide my frown, my pulse spiking.

It’s why we work. Something about that warms my heart and yet it’s confusing as hell.

W e stand back to study the crib and I burst out laughing. “What did you do?” I can’t put my finger on it but something is definitely wrong. I tilt my head to the side, just as Luke does the same, and when I glance his way, he’s frowning with the most puzzled expression in place.

“What did I do?” he questions, his frown deepening. “I followed the instructions but… Ah shit.”

“What?” I bite back a smile. “What happened?”

“I put the left side on the right side.”

“That shouldn’t matter, should it?”

“It matters if you want to see the cutesy pattern rather than the unpolished ridges.”

“Oooh. Whoops. I forgot about the ‘cutesy’ pattern.” I bite back a smile at his description. "Yes, I want to see that.”

“I’m going to have to take it apart.”

“It’s almost midnight. I’m pretty sure there’s a law about noise at this time of night.”

“Damn.” Luke scratches his head. “You’re right. I’ll come back and fix it tomorrow so you can have it all set up. But tonight I can help with the wall stickers. That’s pretty quiet.”

I smile as a tightness works its way into my chest. “I appreciate it, but you don’t have to help with that.”

“Will you need to reach up high?”

“Yes.”

“I’m helping.”

“I have a stepladder, or I can stand on the bed. I’m good. I don’t—”

“Where’s the box, Amelia?”

“Luke.”

“I saw it around here somewhere.”

“Tha—”

“Let me do this,” he pleads and I freeze, even though I was going to say thank you. “Please , Amelia. I feel useless. It’s the least I can do.” The sincerity in his eyes almost breaks me, and my heart once again slams in my chest.

“I was trying to say thank you. I’d love your help with the stickers up high. I’ll do the ones I can reach. But your skills better be perfect.”

“Thank you. And don’t worry. These hands were made for precision.”

He laughs but my mind goes where it shouldn’t, imagining the way his fingers worked my core. The way it felt to have him buried deep inside me and— God, not again . “I’ll grab the box.”

“Thanks,” Luke calls out, thankfully oblivious as I walk away.

We’re halfway through the wall design when I give up. Luke wasn’t kidding. Every one of his stickers is beautifully aligned, not an air bubble in sight. Meanwhile, I’ve done two and had to carefully peel one of them off when it got a crease. “I’m done. How the hell are you doing that so easily?”

“I told you, these hands—”

“Yep, I don’t need a reminder. But can we finish this tomorrow, with the crib?” I fake a yawn, but it instantly brings on a real one, making Luke laugh.

“Tomorrow is good. I’ve got the morning off but I have to be at practice by eleven. Can I come by early?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be up. What time is it now?” I reach for my phone but he beats me to it.

“It’s two.”

“ Two . We’ve been working at this for two hours.”

“Yep.”

“Jesus.” I fall back on the bed and cover my face with my pillow before blowing out a breath. That explains why I’m tired.

The pillow disappears and I find Luke leaning over me, staring as he bites back a smirk. “I’m going to go. Get some rest. I’ll let you sleep in and come in the afternoon instead. Deal?”

I stare up at him, my gaze locked on his mesmerizing eyes that even as a child I could get lost in. And my heart stops as a flutter takes over my chest.

When I don’t respond, Luke reaches out and jokingly pats my cheek, the warmth of his hand making my skin tingle and my heart race. “Are you okay there?” he asks, snapping me out of my daze as my head spins.

“You should stay.” I blow out a breath, unsure if I’m making the right decision, but unequivocally knowing that I don’t want him to go. “Let me return the favor.”

“Really?” His brows lift.

“Yes, really. But you’re sleeping on the couch,” I rush to clarify when he eyeballs my bed. Baby steps. I’m not sure I can trust my emotions. It all scares the hell out of me.

“Of course.” He smiles. “Thanks, Wifey. I’ll take it.”

I smile to myself as I curl my arm farther around his waist, shuffling closer until the heat from his bare skin radiates through my body, warming me from the inside. A soft contented mewl escapes my lips as he rolls over to be closer to me, the movement making my hand brush against his hard—

My eyes shoot open, and I spring away from Luke so fast that I almost fall off the bed. Luckily, or not so luckily, Luke’s sharp reflexes kick into action and he reaches out to grab me before pulling me into his arms.

“Easy there,” he says, his voice all gravelly and hot. “Why the freak-out?”

“Because of this. You.” I wave my hand back and forth between us as I move out of his hold. “In my bed. I was cuddling you.”

“I know. Did you happen to note it was one-sided? I was sleeping.”

“What?” Ugh . “Please explain how this could possibly be my fault?”

“I don’t know.” He bounces his shoulders. “You must have sought me out in your sleep.”

“Sought you out? As in I got out of bed, walked into the living room, dragged you in here, lifted you onto the bed and positioned you comfortably so that I could wrap my arms around you?”

“What?” He stares at me like I’m the crazy one, yet he’s the one that ended up in my bed. “That didn’t happen.” He shakes his head. “Your couch is really uncomfortable, so I got into bed next to you but stayed close to the edge. And at some point you must have rolled over to cuddle me.”

“Well, obviously I thought you were—”

“If you say your ex-husband, so help me God…”

Okay . That’s a touchy subject. “I wasn’t going to say that,” I snap, and it’s not a lie. I must have been dreaming. But who was I dreaming about? God, why the hell did I snuggle against him?

Luke shakes off his annoyance before huffing out a laugh and jumping out of bed, making my traitorous gaze lock on his naked chest as I miss his presence. Why does he have to be so beautiful? Why does his body have to be so—

“You’re drooling,” he announces, cutting into my thoughts.

“Go home.” I turn away, making him laugh again, and God, if it isn’t just as sexy as his body.

Everything about him is sexy, and right now I’d like to climb him like a tree and— Goddammit. What am I doing? I’m broken. That must be it. It’s the only explanation that’s not completely insane.

How did I go from not really caring about my sex life to wanting someone to touch me so badly that I’m seriously considering Luke as a viable option? He’s not. Last time we had sex I wound up pregnant and… Well, I guess the worst-case scenario has already happened so… No . Jesus .

Luke laughs at my spiral until I meet his gaze and his expression turns serious. His eyes blaze with a fire I haven’t seen on him since the night we conceived Jelly Bean, and it hits me in the chest. This isn’t just an attraction. But it’s dangerous either way.

My mind reels as Luke huffs out another laugh and turns away.

“Do you need anything before I go?” he asks, glancing around the room. With his focus elsewhere, I find my eyes dropping to his half-naked body, drinking him in again while my mind fogs, all rational sense making way for thoughts of the man standing in front of me.

“Amelia?”

“Nope.” I force a smile as I avert my gaze. “I’m good.”

“Okay. I just need my…there it is.” He moves closer to grab his phone from the bedside table, and his proximity makes me freeze. He’s so close I could reach out and touch him. He could touch me… Nope. I can’t.

Luke groans, drawing my attention, and when I glance up he’s staring at me with his teeth clenched in frustration. “I told you not to look at me like that,” he grates, but I can’t remember him saying that at all.

“Like what? When did you say that?”

“Last time we fucked. You were staring at me like you are now. Like you want me.”

Jesus . My legs clench as desire pools at my center, his words taking me back there, and I internally curse myself but thank my lucky stars he can’t see under the sheet. Only when he groans again, I’m certain he can read my thoughts.

“Fuck, Amelia. Tell me what you want?”

You . I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life, but I’m goddamn terrified of getting hurt again and it’s not just me I have to worry about now. “Nothing,” I rush out instead of sharing my thoughts. “I don’t want anything.”

“So if I was to check your panties right now, I wouldn’t find them wet? I wouldn’t find you dripping for me?”

Holy shit. I am now.

My breath quickens but I fight to keep my cool. “It doesn’t matter what you find, Luke. We can’t.”

“We can’t, what?”

“Luke, please.”

“That’s not helping, Amelia. I love hearing you beg, and it’s obvious how much you want me in your expression. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll walk away.” He subtly adjusts his cock in his pants, and like the desperate woman I am, I can’t stop myself from watching.

“You’re wrong,” I lie when what I really want is for him to rip my clothes off and devour me, but I can’t say that. Things are finally good between us, and I refuse to do something that ruins that.

“I’m wrong?” Luke’s brows rise as his gaze drops to my legs beneath the sheet, and sure enough, I’m squirming. “You don’t want me to ease your suffering?”

“No,” I whisper. “I promised myself I’d never let you touch me again.” My words come out weak and he knows it. I wait for the smirk. The teasing. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he steps forward, his dark eyes penetrating my soul, making me want things I have no business wanting.

I want him.

“Can I try something?” he rasps as my heart pounds in my chest.

“No, I said—”

“I promise,” he cuts me off. “I won’t touch you.” He holds my stare, but his nostrils flare ever so slightly. He wants this, wants me, and God, I feel the same.

“No pressure.” He holds up his hands while my pulse spikes and I struggle to take in air. “But I want to make you feel good.”

Jesus . My breath hitches while a spark rushes to my core, making me more desperate. I don’t want to do this, but I also do. So badly. And I can’t say no with him staring at me like that.

“Okay,” I give in, my voice breathy. “Tell me what you want to try. But no touching.”

“I promise, no touching,” he confirms. “But I can’t tell you what I want to try. I have to show you. And you’re going to be my hands.”