Page 138 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

I shake my head, even as Lucas’s hands begin to caress my body. His hands palm my breasts and roll my nipples, before he pushes the garment more fully open, sliding the sleeves down my arms and spreading the two halves until I’m naked and splayed in front of him. He’s careful not to touch any of the areas that are sensitive or have rashes, but his hands trail paths along all the unmarred parts of my body, until my entire body feels like a living flame.

“Lorelai,” he repeats, his hands never stopping in their gentle exploration. Lucas’s voice is hoarse and compelling, and even though I’m scared at what I might find, I finally open my eyes in time to see the small, satisfied smile that flits across Lucas’s face a moment before his lips close around one nipple, suckling and lapping. Lucas, kneeling between my legs as if worshipping me. Lucas, encouraging my legs to spread farther apart so that I’m even more exposed and vulnerable, every inch of me open to his touch and kiss.

My eyes squeeze shut again as Lucas begins to kiss his way up my chest and neck until he reaches my mouth. Now that he’s slightly raised above me, I can feel the clear ridge of his erection pressing into me, even through his clothes.

“Does it feel as though I’m not attracted to you?”

He thrusts his hips forward and I gasp into our kiss, because even if I couldn’t hear how ragged his breathing has become, I can absolutely feel how very swollen he’s gotten. That caressing me, even for a few minutes, is enough to elicit this response.

I wrap my legs around his back, feeling every labored rise and fall of his chest as I try to force his body closer to mine. I reach down for his zipper, but Lucas grinds out a harsh, “No.”

I pull back immediately, embarrassed, not understanding how I could have possibly misunderstood the situation, knowing there’s no way to misinterpret his cock, which must be borderline painful.

Seeing my expression, Lucas bites back a laugh. He takes my hand in his and places it on his erection, running my hand up and down it through his clothes roughly. “It should be more than obvious that I desire you, that I want to fuck you into this damn couch until it’s your only clear memory.”

My hand closes around him, because I’m not understanding what the problem is, but Lucas removes my hand before I complete a full stroke. “I’m not a sadist, Red. So trust me when I say that will come later.” He places my hand on the armrest and presses it there, a clear command. “But this is about me, proving to you, that rash or not, I want you.” He leans in to whisper against my ear, “Only you. Always you.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you, though?” He places my other hand on the cushion before raising first one leg and then my other to either side of his shoulders. “Because I feel like you’re not getting it. That you’re not understanding that touching you like this”—a single finger dips down to my core, lightly spreading the wetness that’s practically dripping from me—“is enough to make me hard.” He dips his head finally, lapping gently at my cunt until I’m arching. He sucks my clit and then strokes every fold, licking and kissing on repeat until I am arching and twisting. I grind against his face, too consumed by desire to think about whether my body is desirable to him. The answer is obvious in the way he groans into me. My body’s response is just as blatant, in the way my hands come to his head, as if to bring him closer, even though there is no way to be closer.

“Please.” My voice is an embarrassing whimper, but it does not seem to make Lucas go any faster. Instead, he shifts his position, his body lowering until his hands are on my ass, lifting my body to his.

“You didn’t think I would want you? Desire you?” He licks again, back to teasing and edging me in a way that I am helpless, in this position, to do anything about.

“Yes.” I nod, before realizing that’s probably not the right answer. His teeth scrape along my thigh. “No. I⁠—”

His lips close around my clit as his hands tilt my pussy more toward him, and maybe he didn’t mean for it to end yet, maybe he meant to prolong it, but I shatter, convulsing even as he continues to kiss and lick, lap and suckle.

As I’m coming down, I think I hear Lucas say, “Every part of me wants every part of you.”

I’m too dazed to know whether I’m the one who voiced that secret thought aloud… or if it’s always actually been our shared truth.

After, Lucas moves me to the bed and finally joins me, sliding into me easily, my body still pliant from the most explosive orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

The curtains are open and the sun is shining through. There’s no way to hide an inch of my body, but looking into Lucas’s eyes, I can barely remember why I ever tried.

I’ll never be perfect.

Neither will he.

But we’re perfect for each other.

And we’re perfect together.

EPILOGUE

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“When the country’s leading cardiothoracic surgeon said bed rest, I’m fairly certain he didn’t mean work with a MacBook glued to your lap.”

“I’m on the bed and I’m resting from my teaching duties. Bed . . . rest. I don’t see what the problem is.” Lorelai huffs a little as she says it, which means she’s probably pushing herself too much, but what else can I do? I’ve bought her the largest four-poster hand-carved oak bed I can find, made her sleep on the highest-rated mattress, and have had professional decorators toiling for weeks to perfect the details of not only our bedroom, but the entire eight-thousand-square-foot compound we’re calling our maybe-forever home.

The entire space is professionally designed to be restful.

And yet, my girl has just never been able to rest. She squints at me now with the expression I mentally label Argumentative Pout. “I don’t know that you really needed to hire the country’s leading cardiothoracic surgeon to perform what everyone considers a fairly routine procedure.”

“What else is money for?”