He pushed her robe aside and slid his hand up the side of her leg, from her knee to her thigh to her hip.
“I promise, I am flesh and blood,” he said.
She reached for the bottom of his shirt and pushed it up.
“I think that’s exactly what a figment of my imagination would say.”
He untied her robe and moved his hand up the side of her body, until he cupped one of her breasts.
“I am well aware of your excellent imagination.” He moved his thumb and index finger to her nipple and circled it. “I am very grateful for it, as a matter of fact. But do you think that a figment of your imagination would do this?” He pulled her nipple firmly, and her eyes closed.
“Mmm,” she said. “Maybe. You see, the problem is that I would imagine someone who would do everything I like the most, and I happen to really like that.”
“Oh no.” He pushed her legs farther apart and slid his free hand between them. “That means that if I do things like this”—he slid a finger inside of her, and she gasped—“because I know you really like it, it’ll prove I’m not real. I guess the only thing I can do to prove myself to you is to do things you don’t like.” He stilled his finger. And then he grinned. “But where’s the fun in that?”
* * *
LUKE STILL COULDN’T BELIEVE sometimes that he could just do this. That he could sit here, with Margot, and kiss her everywhere he wanted, pull her clothes off, put his hands all over her body, and see all of her. And the best part was that she gloried in it. She reached for him as quickly and eagerly as he reached for her, she kissed him as hard as he kissed her, she sighed and moaned and gasped when he touched her everywhere he was touching her now. He couldn’t get enough of it.
“You know,” he said, as he pushed her robe all the way open. “I truly do love taking your clothes off, I love it a lot. But I also really love it when I get here and you’re wearing a robe and nothing else.”
She laughed. She looked so relaxed, so happy, right now. Even with how exhausted she was after the party, the lines of stress had fallen away from her face. He’d known she was worried and upset about everything going on with her brother, but he hadn’t really understood the extent of how hard it was on her, until he’d walked in tonight and seen how happy she seemed, how free she looked.
“You seem to make a habit of walking in here when I’m wearing nothing but a robe, it’s true,” she said. “But thank you for telling me that—it helps to justify my robe purchasing habit. Now I have a reason to wear them all.”
He pushed the rest of the robe off her shoulders and played with her nipples again. He loved how responsive her body was to him, how as soon as he took her nipples between his fingers or into his mouth, he could feel her whole body quiver.
“I will happily be your excuse to buy as many robes as you want,” he said. “I will appreciate every single one of them.” He ran his hands along her thighs, up her stomach, back to her breasts. “And I will appreciate you, inside—and outside—of them.”
He stood up and pulled her up with him.
“Come with me.”
She followed him into her bedroom. He’d loved that room from the first time he’d walked inside of it, on his quest for condoms when he’d seen her very intriguing bottom drawer. But he loved it for more reasons than that. The huge, comfortable bed; the crisp, hotel-like bedding; the dark walls; all this made it seem like a refuge. From the first time he’d entered it, he’d wanted to stay there with Margot, for a whole day, just in bed with her, around her, sleeping and having sex and talking and sleeping some more and having more sex, from sunup to sundown. Maybe now that the party was over, and that things with Elliot were better, it could happen.
He kissed her. She pulled his body against hers immediately. She was so soft and warm and strong. He loved the feeling of her body against his, her lips on his, her skin under his lips, his tongue.
“Lie down.”
She lay down on her bed and smiled up at him. He loved that she didn’t cover herself up, but just lay there, blissfully, perfectly naked, so he could look at her. He dropped his pants to the floor.
“I love the way you look at me,” she said, staring back at him. “It’s . . . It makes me feel so good.”
He pulled his shirt off.
“Margot Noble, do you have any idea what you do to me? What you’ve always done to me, since the very beginning?”
Were those tears he saw in her eyes? It was dark in here; he couldn’t really tell.