One week later, I pull into my driveway, shut off my car, already excited to see Lukas. We’re having a quiet dinner in tonight, but I’ve learned quiet nights in with Lukas leads to a plethora of fantasies being checked off my list.

The man drives me to distraction. In today’s staff meeting, I’d drifted off, replaying the dirty, fantastic things we did together, so when it came time to give my report, I’d been so lost in fantasy one of my coworkers had to prompt me. At lunch with Janet the other day, I’d finally had a chance to confess everything that has happened with him, and my giddiness kind of embarrasses me.

But Janet didn’t mind, after all, she’s seen Lukas. She gets it.

I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and close my eyes.

It was getting harder and harder for me to focus on only the sex. It turns out he’s an awesome guy. I like spending time with him. He’s fun and knowledgeable and interesting. He has depth. Why can’t he be a buff, good-looking sex god whose only hobby is his next party?

That Lukas Marlow, the one I’d propositioned the night of my drunken birthday, I can handle. But he’s a hell of a lot more than a pretty face.

I sigh, and it sounds all dreamy and romantic. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.

We talk, a lot, about anything and everything. He’s told me all about his big, close-knit family. How as the baby, he’d been teased mercilessly by his brother and three sisters. How disappointed his mom had been when he followed in his father’s footsteps. How guilty he felt that, when his dad retired and his mom finally breathed a sigh of relief, he’d gone off and joined the department.

I can’t blame her. When Lukas had been just my neighbor, I hadn’t thought much about his job other than to fulfill my men-in-uniform fantasies. After listening to the reality of his profession, the first time he headed off to work, I hadn’t been able to relax until his car pulled into the driveway the following day.

Of course, he had to go ruin all my perceptions by being a great listener. Despite my best intentions, I kept talking about things I’d rather keep private. Somehow I’ve told him about my family and my troubled but beautiful big sister. I confessed how I’d spent my formative years never wanting to cause waves, wanting to make life as easy as possible for my preoccupied parents.

And damn it, he makes me feel special. Like I matter. Like I’m even a little exciting. He pushes and prods past my boundaries, yet is so encouraging, so supportive and understanding, I feel safe.

I blow out a breath. I can’t deny it. I’m falling for him. I’ll worry about it later.

I raise my head, gather my belongings, and climbed out of the car.

The second I slam the door, Lukas’s head pops out from behind the bushes—reminding me of the day our fling began. He gives me his best bad-boy smile, that damned, irresistible dimple flashing.

My heart gives a hard thump. No question about it. I’m falling hard.

Maybe if we didn’t spend every second of free time together it would be easier, but he’s like a magnet, drawing me in by some impossible-to-resist force.

“Hey, Abby girl, I was just getting in a little yard work before you got—” He stops abruptly, gaze narrowing.

I frown at his expression “What’s wrong?”

He points a shovel at me. “What are you wearing?”

Confused, I peer down at my outfit, not seeing anything amiss. “A dress, what does it look like?”

His jaw takes on a stubborn line I’ve begun to grow accustomed to. “I don’t like it.”

My shoulders jerk strait, and I scowl.

Jerk.

To think I’d been having gooey thoughts about him. Gooey thoughts or not, I’m not taking this shit.

“Well, too bad for you.” I walk up my driveway, irritation in every step. I’d fallen in love with this dress and he sure as hell isn’t going to ruin it for me. As part of my life overhaul, as a birthday gift to myself, I’d taken two thousand dollars out of my hard-earned savings to fund a new wardrobe.

I’d had one criterion for my purchases—I had to feel fabulous in them.

And I felt awesome in the formfitting black shirtwaist dress, so he can go screw himself tonight. The figure-hugging retro dress with its million tiny buttons, pencil skirt and a three-inch-wide belt looks fantastic on me. A fact verified by numerous accountants during the course of my day.

If Lukas doesn’t like it, too bad.

I stomp up the path to my doorway.

In a bounding leap, he hops over the shrubs and stands in my way, blocking me from the front door. One dark brow rises. “I see someone’s feisty today.”

My chin tilts, shoulders back, I sidestep him, snapping, “Word to the wise, your tactics could use some work.”

He grabs me around the waist, hauling me back. Of course he’s hard. Did the man walk around with a perpetual hard-on? Well too bad for him because he’s now on my list.

“Hmmm…is that so?” He nips my earlobe and an involuntary shiver races through me. “It puts you on your back often enough.”

I will not be distracted.

“Ha!” I pry his hands off my stomach. Over my shoulder, I toss him a smirk. “Arrogance will get you nowhere. Good luck with that erection, see ya later.”

Then I march up the front steps and slip my key into the lock.

Lukas laughs, his evil, mischievous laugh, but I will not be persuaded by hormones.

The lock clicks open and I stride through the door, tossing my work stuff onto the foyer table. Behind me, the door slams with a loud bang as Lukas barges in.

I spin around. “Your invitation has been revoked!”

He grips my arm and spins me around with lightning-fast speed, pressing me against the wall, mouth hard on me. He kisses me like a starving man, as if he can’t get enough.

As though he’s missed me.

I’m mad, but I can’t help returning the fervor of his mouth.

When we are both panting for breath, he pulls back.

“Maybe I should rephrase.” He unhooks my belt and it clatters to the floor. “You look hot as hell.”

“Oh.” The irritation begins to fade, replaced by pleasure. No one has ever called me “hot as hell” before.

He pinches my nipples through the fabric. “I don’t want the men at work getting ideas because you’re driving them crazy.”

I gasp at his words, not quite believing them, but arching into his palms anyway.

“The only man you’re allowed to drive crazy is me.” He runs his hands up and down my body, pausing at the open vee of the dress. The sound of fabric tearing fills the air as he rips the dress with both hands.

All those tiny buttons fly through the air, scattering in a million different directions.

Oh my god, nobody has ever torn my clothes off before! I’m caught between giddiness and indignation. I decide on the latter. “Hey! That was new!”

His mouth skims over the curve of my neck. “Mmmm…sorry.”

“No you’re not.” I’m so easy. Because my blood heats as he licks at my nipple through my lacy black bra before biting the tip.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he murmurs.

I drop one hand to the erection tenting his jeans and squeeze. “The same one.”

“Will you wear it to work?” His mouth is still playing across my breasts.

“Yes.”

“Then no.” A flick of the wrist and my bra is undone. Deft fingers stroke and abrade my sensitive nipples.

Unzipping his jeans, I arch when he rolls the hard buds. It feels too damn good. He feels too good.

“Are you jealous?” I tease, reaching inside his boxer briefs to circle the head of his cock. I scrape my fingers along his skin, not really meaning the words.

He lets out a hiss before saying on a harsh breath, “Hell yes I’m jealous.”

My hand stills. I blink at him, taking in his features, the darkness of his eyes, the set of his jaw. I tilt my head. “You’re serious.”

“Yes, Abby, I’m serious.” He kisses me hard, and before I know what hits me, he has my hands restrained above my head. He breaks away, biting my bottom lip. “I want you to myself.”

I swallow. We can argue about it later. When I have coherent thoughts in my head. When I’m not a tiny bit thrilled he feels territorial about me. I’ve never had this, and I want to bask in it for a bit, before I set him straight. I whisper, “You have me. Now fuck me—hard and fast.”

“I’m supposed to give the orders here.” He kicks my legs apart, sliding his thigh between them and rubbing my swollen clit. “But I’ve been craving your hot, wet cunt since you left this morning and I can’t wait anymore. I’ll make you pay later.”

I smile, trying not to think of the emotion swelling in my chest. “Right back at you.”

One brow cocks and that dimple winks. “I can’t wait for that, little girl.”

He covers my mouth in a hot, possessive kiss, and I don’t think about anything but the way he claims my body for a long, long time.

* * *

Much later, we’re at my small kitchen table eating gooey grilled cheese. I moan in appreciation. “This might be the best sandwich I’ve ever had.”

Lukas, who made the culinary masterpiece, laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’ve just worked up an appetite.”

I swallow my bite, savoring the buttery flavor on my tongue. I think I love this just as much as I love having sex with him. Just sitting in the kitchen half naked, eating and laughing while we talk about our day.

I smile, fluttering my lashes, feeling carefree and happy. “You cook, you do lawn work, you’re smart, gorgeous and give killer orgasms. I’ll think I’ll keep you after all. Although, I insist we discuss the havoc you wreak on my wardrobe.”

He affectionately pinches my bare thigh. “That dress was a menace, I did you a favor.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll dig out my receipt so you can fund a new one.”

He grins, lone dimple flashing. “Oh, all right…but I’m not going to like it.”

I grin right back. “It’s a great dress.”

He leans across the table, and swipes his thumb over my bottom lip. “It is. I might have to show up at your work one day to scare all those bean counters.”

An image of Lukas beating his chest while walking through rows of cubicles springs to mind, making me giggle. I wave a hand. “You’re crazy. You make it sound like the dress was fit for a Vegas showgirl. Don’t forget, I’ve watched the women you date traipse up and down your walkway for a year. Now there’s flash for you.”

I take another bite of my sandwich.

His brown-eyed gaze zeros in on me. “Maybe, but what you have is far more captivating.”

At his words, the grilled cheese lodges in my throat. Why does he keep saying stuff like that? It confuses me. Makes me hope. Dream. Plan. And I can’t have that. I need to keep my heart safe. He thinks I don’t notice the way he’s trying to build my confidence, but I do. I need it to stop so I can compartmentalize properly. I swallow the rise of irritation in my throat. “You don’t have to butter me up, Lukas.”

The lines on his forehead crease, and he leans back in his chair. “I’m not. Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t make it untrue.”

He doesn’t understand. I’m okay being realistic about our fate and myself. It’s how I’ve survived. I try again.

“I know we’re having fun here.” One thing I’ve learned about Lukas is his mom reared him with a strict moral code when it comes to nice girls. I appreciate it, but his comments are digging into my heart and I have to protect myself. I clear my throat. “But I’m realistic. I know I’m not your type and it’s not your job to bolster my self-esteem.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, and he throws his napkin onto the table before glaring at me, like he’s angry instead of relieved. He glances up at the ceiling, shaking his head, before returning his attention back on her. “Okay, fine, you’re not my type.”

The words sting even though they are the truth. Well good, better for us to clear the air so I can get my head in the right place. I nod. “Yes, and that’s my point.”

“You’re right. I’ve never been with anyone like you.” The lines on his face take on an aggressive edge.

I’d asked for this, now I have to pay the consequences. I run my finger over my plate. “You’re doing me a favor. I get it. So you don’t need to keep saying all these nice things to me.”

He studies me for a long, tense moment and I want to avert my gaze but don’t. His head tilts. “I see, so you want me to tell you the truth, is that it?”

“Yes.” That’s exactly what I want, despite the tight scratchy feeling in my throat.

He sits forward and puts his elbows on the table, like he’s getting down to serious business. “Okay. Here’s the truth. Like a typical guy, until you showed up on my doorstep in those tight jeans and tank top that showed off a body I sure as hell never noticed, I wasn’t attracted to you. Is that what you want to hear?”

“At least it’s honest.” It sucks and it hurts, but it’s nothing I hadn’t known. Tears sting the corners of my eyes and I blink them away. I’ve always prided myself on facing the hard truths in life and this is no different.

At least my heart can stop getting involved in this affair.

While his gaze is intent, his expression is unreadable. “Since you’re so interested in honest, let me spell it out for you.”

Oh, I think I’ve heard more than enough, but like a masochist, I nod. “Please do.”

“I pick the women I do because they like to have fun and aren’t looking for commitment any more than I am. I don’t pick them for their personality, and I’m never going to bring them home to my mom.”

“I understand.”

“No you don’t.” Expression hard, he runs his hands through his hair before blowing out a hard breath. “I want to bring you home.”

Wait…what did he say? I blink. “What?”

He shakes his head. “The truth is I can’t get you out of my mind. I want you constantly. Hell, I can’t wait to see you. And I don’t mean the sex, which is unbelievable, I mean you. All of you. I keep thinking about how my family will love you and how I want you to meet them. I never think that. Not since I was in high school. I don’t even know what to make of it. In fact, you scare the shit out of me, but I keep coming back for more. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

My jaw falls open. “Are you serious?”

Anger flashes in his dark eyes. “I am dead fucking serious, Abby.”

He is serious. “Oh!”

“That’s it? Oh?”

“Um…” I have no idea what to say. I’m speechless. I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. “Thank you.”

He gives me a hard, long stare then barks with laughter. “What? No questions about my intentions? Don’t you want to probe into my every thought and analyze my feelings?”

I cannot wrap my head around what he’s just said or how it’s even possible. I offer a tentative smile. “If you want me to, I’m sure I can muster up a few questions.”

The chair scrapes along the planks of the hardwood as he pushes away from the table and stretches out his legs. His strong, capable hands slide into the pocket of his jeans. “What about you, Abby? Are you using me to cross the things off your list?”

How could he even think that? I shake my head vehemently. “No! Of course not. Why would you even say such a thing?”

A brow rises and he scrubs a hand over his jaw. “I thought we were being honest. When you showed up at my door, were you thinking about me as a person? Or as someone to fulfill your fantasies?”

His point is a direct bull’s eye. That’s exactly what I’d done. I’d come to use him. Because he was hot and uncomplicated. That doesn’t exactly make me a good person.

I look down at my half-eaten grilled cheese and shrug.

“So, am I just a good time?”

My head shoots up. “No, of course not. That’s insane.”

“Why?”

My head is spinning and I’m at a loss for words. I gesture at his bare chest. “Because, I’m me…and you’re you.”

The muscles in his biceps bunch, and, if possible, his jaw takes on a more stubborn line. “I don’t know what that means.”

“We hardly match.” I’m back to stating the obvious. At least that I have a handle on.

His arms cross. “Why do you think that?”

“Please, the women you date are practically supermodels.” I shake my head. “I’m…well…I’m an accountant. The last guy I dated thought going to a Star Trek convention constituted a good time.”

“What do our past dates have to do with us?”

Why is he pushing on this? I’m so confused and he’s not giving me any processing time. I blow out a breath that sends a lock of hair flying. “Why are you doing this? You know what I mean. When people see us together, they’re not going to believe I’m taking pity on you.”

His frown turns positively fierce. “Why do you underestimate yourself like that?”

Frustration is a rapid beat against my ribs. See, this is why I never talk about this, because people don’t understand. “I’m not underestimating myself. I’m a realist.”

“That’s bullshit.” His harsh tone makes my shoulders straighten. He points at me. “You’re convinced you’re ordinary because that’s what your family wanted you to be. But trust me, Abby, ordinary is not who you are.”

I admit that being compared to Eden warped my self-perception, I can accept responsibility for that, but it doesn’t change who I am. Why can’t he just accept that I’m okay with it? I bite my lower lip before appealing to his common sense. “I’m quiet and bookish.”

He has the gall to laugh. “Please. You may be smart as hell, but you’re not bookish. Oh sure, you wore all those drab clothes—which, by the way, don’t look so bad to me in light of your current wardrobe choices—but you couldn’t ever hide your smart-ass nature. The only thing that’s changed is your exterior now matches who you are on the inside. And for the record, you’re not quiet. Hell, half the time I’m worried someone’s going to send the cops after me because they think I’m beating you, you scream so loud.”

A hot flush spreads over my chest. Okay, maybe sometimes I do get a little loud. But still, I have a point. Stubborn, I tilt my chin. “There may be a kernel of truth in what you’re saying, but don’t pretend we’re in the same league.”

“You’re crazy.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “This is what I get for getting involved with a pragmatic accountant.”

The statement seems to be to himself so I don’t comment, choosing instead to pick at the corner of my sandwich.

With a long, put-upon sigh, he scoots his chair back under the table and places his elbows on the wood surface. “Okay, you need some sort of proof since my word isn’t good enough.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up his hand to silence me.

“We’ll deal with your lack of trust. For now, let’s stick to the point at hand. When I took you to the party last week, no one questioned why I was with you.”

“I’m sure they were being polite.” My tone is prim and my stomach flips over. I’m ready for this conversation to end.

He scoffs. “You don’t know firefighters. We practically live together, and they’re never polite. If they wondered what I was doing with you, they would have asked me why I needed to take my charity fuck out in public.”

That stops me cold and I raise a brow.

A cocky smile splays over his face. “Do you want to know what they did say?”

The mature, sensible part of me wants to say no, but another part of me can’t help but wonder. In an attempt to be casual, I shrug.

“You don’t fool me.” He slides his fingers around my wrist, his thumb stroking the pulse point. “Let’s see, Trevor would have stolen you right out from under me if given half a chance. Then there was Bobby, who couldn’t stop talking about your killer body. Oh, and Danny asked me if I’d be interested in a threesome.”

“Oh!” A smile quivers on my lips, and I straighten all proper like in my chair.

“Now I’ve got your attention.” He chuckles, his grasp turning into a vise grip. “For the record, Trevor wouldn’t have gotten two steps with you, I told Bobby to shut the fuck up, and I will never share you, so get that idea right out of your wild little mind.”

The grin grows until my cheeks hurt. Is it possible we might match after all? I press my lips together before offering demurely, “I wouldn’t do that.”

I mean, sure I might think about it for a half second, but I wouldn’t do it.

Like a bolt of lightning, he shoots out from the chair, causing it to skid across the floor. He hauls me up, and my heart pounds at the expression on his face. With a sweep of his arm, he pushes the plates to the floor. Dishes crash and clatter around us as he puts me on the table.

That intense, territorial gleam is back in his dark brown eyes. “Damn straight you won’t.”

I can live with that.