We sat in front of Luke’s fireplace on the floor. There were more boxes of Chinese food than I’d ever seen. He had ordered everything on the menu. He wasn’t shy about eating. I knew athletes had voracious appetites and he showed me just how true that was. It was the opposite for me. I had to watch every calorie. Every carb.

I stuck my chopsticks into the box of sticky rice at the same time he reached for some.

“Hey.” I batted him away, giggling. He jabbed back at me.

The food was good. My stomach had finally stopped growling. I thought Luke felt bad about starving me for so long, but he made up for it with amazing sex. It was a better staple around her than having cereal or bread on hand.

When the delivery driver dropped off the order, I made sure to stay out of sight. I felt like an outlaw, hiding behind the blinds. Ignoring Jake’s calls. Disappearing while I sorted everything out with Luke.

His oversized Warriors T-shirt draped off my shoulder. I had washed and dried the only underwear I had and sat with him with nothing else on.

He pressed the remote to change the music station. He liked the acoustic stuff.

“If you could only pick one, who would you say your favorite country singer is?” I asked.

He popped the rest of a spring roll between his lips.

“Hmm. That’s fucking hard to answer. You can’t put limits out there like that.”

“Only one.” I eyed him. I liked games like this.

“Well, we both know you’re out.” He winked. “Unless you open the category up to which country singer I want in my bed.”

“I’m not on the list of choices. Come on, tell me.” I scooped more rice onto my plate. “You obviously love this music. You have to have a favorite. Who is it?”

Luke set his plate on the hearth and extended his muscular legs until he was standing. I watched him stroll to the other side of the room, stoop, and open the door to a wooden cabinet.

He held up a twelve by twelve cardboard sleeve.

“Is that vinyl?” I rose from the floor and walked toward him.

“I bought this when I was sixteen in one of those rusted out barns that ran as an antique store.”

I took the album with the tattered corners and flipped it over. “Robert Earl Keen is your favorite?”

“Hell, yeah.” The cover was tattered and worn. I wondered how many times Luke had listened to it.

My music was about as far from this as it could be. My concerts were filled with electronic graphics on huge hi-definition screens, pyrotechnics, and more dancers than I could remember their names. I put on a full-fledged show. The kind that sold out in mega stadiums.

There were lights that twinkled and dazzled and my band was so loud the ear plugs I wore barely helped. Comparing my music to this was like saying Johnny Cash and Beyoncé sang the same thing.

“Want to hear it?” Luke seemed excited. He let the album fall to the center of his palm. Tucked on the bottom shelf of his stereo system was a turntable. It was wired into his sound system.

“Yes. I’d love to.”

I waited while the first few seconds crackled and popped. And then there was a gravelly richness of music in the air around us. Luke walked back to our Chinese picnic and I followed.

“Yeah, I could listen to this album every day.”

“It’s great. He’s great.” I’d never met the Texas singer, but I strained my ears to hear him. What drew Luke to his music.

It was stripped down and raw. There weren’t a hundred different instruments competing to be heard. The producer didn’t jam it with effects. It was pure music.

I blinked. “I guess I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“If you like this why did you stay for my show?”

“Because you’re damn gorgeous, Alexa. And I know you winked at me.” He smiled.

“I’m being serious. Tell me—if I wanted Luke Canton as a fan—what would you tell me to do? How do I reach you with my music?”

Because that’s what I wanted. I wanted to pull a man like Luke into my heart. And the music in my lyrics was the writing on my soul.

He rubbed the side of my calf. “I am a fan. A very big one.” Luke stretched his back. “I think I paid high-dollar for a private concert. You could sing for me now.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Do you know how much that check was I wrote?” he asked.

“It was for charity. For the kids,” I pressed. “You don’t really want me to sing for you after hearing that album. Not if you like this kind of music.”

He tilted his head. “I like lots of things. And I’ve decided I can never get enough of Alexa Wilde. Your voice is gorgeous—like the rest of you. Sing, baby.” His voice was determined.

It made me blush. Shameless flirting worked. And the funny thing was he didn’t need to do it. He already had me. We had crossed every personal boundary two people could cross. We had given each other our souls. We had made a co-conspirator pact. And I was trying to pretend that there wasn’t a chance we had possibly made a baby.

My stomach rolled when I thought about it. I couldn’t think about it. No baby. No baby. I had taken the next pill in my packet after we showered, but I realized then how terrible my math really was. It was closer to seven days since I had last taken a pill.

“My guitar is still in your truck,” I offered. “I could do the concert now.”

I had to stop thinking about the possibility of a baby. Music was where I could get lost. It was always my refuge.

I realized I might have the perfect audience for my new material. Luke didn’t want to hear the pop-country crap my fans loved. I could sing the lyrics that spilled through the pages in my journals. He had seen me completely raw and vulnerable. This felt right. Completely right.

“Going to get it now.” He waggled his eyebrows and hopped up with the dexterity of a well-trained athlete.

I cleaned up the white paper boxes and stored the leftovers in the refrigerator. I refilled my wine glass and walked back to the living room.

Luke appeared holding my guitar case. He handed it to me. He quickly turned off Keen and sat on the ottoman closest to the hearth. He was only feet away. I took my time unlatching the case and tuning the instrument.

It was strange. This morning we had sung together at the hospital. I hadn’t felt self-conscious. I was used to audiences. This felt completely different as if I were sharing something even more intimate.

“What are you going to play?” he asked.

“Something new. I want you to tell me your honest opinion.”

“I’m not very good at constructive criticism,” he explained. “I’m a terrible bullshitter.”

“Good.” I smiled. “Tell me if you hate it. I need to know.”

“I’m not gonna—”

“Shh. Listen,” I ordered.

I bowed my head over the guitar and started the song. The notes flowed. The words poured from my throat. The music filled the room.

It was Luke, my guitar, and me. I had never sung like this before. I had never sung to someone—to a man. To a man I was inexplicable bonded to like none other. Every word. Every note. Roped us closer together. The lasso was so tightly wound my heart beat hard against the restraints, but I couldn’t stop. I had to tell him how I felt. How my life wasn’t mine alone anymore. I sang. I spilled my depths and layers. I didn’t stop until Luke knew my life was forever different because I’d laid in his arms.

I looked up when the last word fell from my lips.

Luke’s eyes held mine.

I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know if he could either.

“Damn, Alexa.”

“Damn good or damn bad?” My voice quivered. If he said bad I would pack up the guitar. I might hide in the closet, or head back to the airport. That song said everything.

“Damn, you have replaced that album of mine.”

I let myself smile. “Really? You liked it?”

“I don’t know shit about the music business, but you have to record it.”

“I can’t.” I shook my head.

“Why not?” His brows pinched together. I’d seen that irritated look on his face before.

“I have a contract. My label didn’t sign up for an indie sound. They want the country sweetheart bit. The next twenty-four songs are already chosen and paid for. But you think it’s that good?”

“I think your voice and that song are fucking perfect.”

I had platinum albums. Chart topping hits. A Grammy. But nothing felt as good as this compliment from Luke.

“I’m going to figure out how to record it,” I decided aloud. “Thank you.”

“Can I hear it again?”

I realized the night was winding down. In the morning I’d have to sneak a ride to the airport. I’d have to leave Luke. And I didn’t know when we would see each other again. How was this ever going to work? His schedule? My schedule? The seconds ticked by. I wanted to dig into every moment we had left until I took off in the air. Hold on to time as if it were something I could lock in a box and control.

I didn’t want any of it to end. What if the miles were enough to loosen what tied us together?

He stole my breath. He captured my spirit. He owned my body.

“Yes.” I nodded. And I played it for him three more times.

I lowered the guitar next to my knee.

“Alexa,” Luke breathed.

We both leaned closer. The air between was charged with something magical. Something sensual. My lips tingled waiting to be taken by his hungry mouth. My nipples hardened under the soft fabric of his Warriors’ T-shirt.

He looked at me with a ravenous gaze. Shit. This was going to be amazing. His hand drifted to my knee and brushed over my stomach, before taking my breast in his rough grasp.

“Ohh,” I moaned. He flicked over my nipple and grinned like the devil he was.

“That song turned me on.”

“It did?” I choked another groan.

He had pushed the shirt over my breasts so they faced him, naked and perked for his hot mouth.

“Fuck, it did. Your voice. Your lips.” He ran his tongue over the sensitive buds.

I didn’t know how two people could keep having sex like this, but we could. I started to believe Luke and I were meant for each other. It sounded insane, but we couldn’t get enough. Our bodies craved to be bonded and fused together. And if they weren’t they ached and cried for the other.

We were only satisfied when he sank inside me, filling me, fucking me, making me his one and only.

I felt the wet rush against my thigh. He could fuck me now without any foreplay and I’d soak his cock the way he liked it. Luke made me feel as if everything my body did for him was natural. What I had once thought was too forward or shameful, wasn’t dirty. It was right for us. It was beautiful and expressive.

His eyes lit. He knew it. “Fuck, you’re meant for me.”

I nodded, taking his mouth with a vicious kiss. My tongue threaded over his, sucking and biting. He yanked the T-shirt from my head, palming my nipples eagerly.

“There are so many things I want to do to you,” he growled.

“God, yes. Every one of them,” I agreed.

He latched onto one of my nipples. I ran my fingers through his hair, smiling at the way he was greedy with my body. He took full possession of it every time he touched me. The buzz swirled in my head. Luke made me feel drunk with horniness. It was delicious and wicked. His hand slid to my center, cupping my heat. He teased over the thin fabric of my underwear.

“Oh, baby. Strip down for me. I’m fucking you on the couch.”

I stood, shimmying the panties from my legs. I kicked them off my ankles, losing them under the coffee table. I was breathless, waiting for him.

“I’ll be right back.” He pointed to the bedroom. “I might double up on those suckers this time.”

“Right,” I whispered.

We hadn’t talked about the condom breaking again, but it was best we didn’t tempt another powerful orgasm. The way Luke showed his want for me was liable to split another one.

I stretched out on the cool leather, barely able to contain myself. Every nerve I had was alive with pure lust. I lifted my hair off my neck in a sexy pose when I froze. Panic ran through my body. The lust turned to fear.

The backdoor to the utility room beeped and it slammed shut.

I heard loud footsteps walk through the kitchen.

A loud voice boomed through the hall. “Where the fuck are you, Luke?”