Start Over: A Novel (Start Again Series #2)

by J. Saman

  “Right,” I draw out the word, because I knew that already.

  “I left you that morning, maybe five or ten minutes after you had fallen asleep. You were so exquisitely beautiful and it was really not a far stretch to picture something more with you, even though we just met. But Ronnie had just dumped me over the FBI thing, and I knew I was headed in a bad direction, so I left. I left that morning, but that didn’t stop me from hanging around Bean & Leaf whenever I could, hoping to see you. Hoping to talk you and apologize.”

  I try looking away, suddenly uncomfortable with his penetrating stare. His thumb and second finger possess my chin, forcing my eyes back to his and holding me there as he studies my expression against the lights of the dash board as we sit at the traffic light.

  “I was stuck on you after that one night. Unable to let go, but I knew I had no choice. That seems to be my theme when it comes to you. My inability to see past myself, the things I had done and things I was doing, kept me from you a second time.”

  I swallow down, overwhelmed by his intensity that I can’t seem to look away from.

  “I have people,” he continues. “Kate is an incredible woman and I love her like a sister. Claire, the monster, too. Ryan most of all, and even that little shit, Kyle. I have people in my life. People I love and who love me back, but other than Ryan, no one really knows me. Except you,” he stresses. “You know me. And though you think you’re missing a lot, you’re actually not. I want this with you. I want a future and a forever, and I’m really not shy about asking for it. I am so sorry for what I put us through, but I need you and I think you need me too.”

  “I might need you too.”

  A slow smile lights up his face before he leans over to kiss me chastely. “Might?”

  “Don’t push it.”

  He laughs, driving forward with the change of the light, taking us back to his place.

  Luke tosses his keys on the table next to the door before snaking his arms around my waist and walking me in. “I have ice cream in the freezer,” he says into my neck, trailing kisses up and down.

  “Not interested.”

  “Then what are you interested in?” he asks with so much suggestion in his voice that my toes curl as I suppress my moan.

  Turning around in his arms, I peer up into his soft brown depths, my hands snaking around his neck.

  “Hi,” he whispers, brushing my hair back behind my ears so he can study my face better.

  “Hi,” I whisper in return, and now we’re grinning at each other like love-struck teenagers before their first kiss. It’s that same feeling. The incredible coil of anticipation mixed with the bubbles of excitement that pervade my chest.

  The delicious buzz of desire builds between us, snapping and popping, fizzing and sizzling and I can’t get enough. The build-up is almost as good as the real thing. Almost.

  His head dips down slightly before pausing, hovering a few measly inches from mine. He’s asking me. This time he has no intention of taking something I’m not willing to offer, but little does he know, I want everything.

  His kisses, his hands, his body, his mind, his soul, his everything.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  His eyes slam shut and a shaky breath stutters past his lips.

  “Wow. Who knew three simple words, arranged in that order, coming from your mouth, could sound like the most prodigious symphony ever composed?” When his eyes open again, they’re on fire and everything inside me ignites before it liquefies into a molten pool of lava. “I don’t just want you for tonight,” he says, like it’s a warning.

  “I know.”

  “What are you saying? I need to hear the words, baby.”

  “I’m saying I’m yours, Luke. I’m saying I always have been.”

  His hands clasp my cheeks before his mouth crashes to mine, devouring me. We’re pulling at each other in frenzied desperation. This is no sweet, gentle reunion. This is need and passion. And did I mention need? Holy god, do I need this man.

  My shirt hits the floor, followed by his and then he’s lifting me up, walking me across the flat. His lips never leave mine, not even to maneuver us around, which is why we bump into furniture here and there, laughing against each other as we go.

  Luke tosses me down on the bed with a bounce, causing a giggle to bubble up, but it gets lodged in my throat as I see the expression on his face. It’s unbelievably raw and exposed, and if I thought I was eager before, I’m a million times more so now. I’ve never had someone look at me like that. Ever.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, regret crumbling his features. “God Ivy, I’m so goddamn sorry for everything I’ve put us through. I still maintain that you’re too good for me, and that you deserve a shit ton better, but I love you. I love you so fucking much. I hate that I hurt you.”

  Luke drops to his knees on the floor in front of my legs, which are dangling off the edge of the bed. His fingers slide under the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer to him before his head drops to the tops of my them. Sitting up, I run my fingers through his soft short hair.

  “You’re my world,” he says quietly, lost in thought. “And the way I love you.” I see a small smile pulling on his lips. “It’s really not even describable. So that stuff with Jason that Sophia called me about? I can’t even go there. I can’t even think about it, because it makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and never let you leave here again. It makes me feel like a crazy, possessive caveman. And that got me thinking about my situation. So I’m just going to say this and then if you’re still with me, I’m going to make love to you until you never question anything again.”

  “Okay.”

  Luke raises his head out of my lap, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. Ever. I would give my life to protect yours. And I’m not saying this to be dramatic. I’m saying this because you need to know that I will ensure your safety if you decide to be with me. I know it comes with a certain amount of risk, though it is less now than it was. I’m not easy and neither is my life, but god, Ivy, I’d do anything to be able to make you mine forever.”

  His thumbs brush against my cheeks again, swiping at the tears I hadn’t noticed falling.

  “Okay.”

  He pushes out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? I bare my heart and soul to you and all you can say is okay?”

  “Yeah. I think that really covers everything, don’t you?”

  He laughs, shaking his head before tackling me to my back and covering my body with his delicious weight. “Darlin’, nothing with us will ever be just okay.”

  “All right? Does that work?”

  He starts tickling my ribs and though I’m not all that ticklish, he seems to find my one spot. I’m squirming and giggling, trying to push his hands away.

  “Bloody hell, Luke! Stop! Please!”

  He does finally stop, leaving me panting and breathless, smiling so big my cheeks hurt.

  Luke hovers above me, his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of my head. “You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, his eyes gliding across my face feature by feature. “And you’re mine, so no more of this okay or all right bullshit.”

  “Okay,” I smirk, but instead of more tickles, he gives me a broad smile before dipping his head down and pressing his lips to mine.

  After that we’re a mass of lips and hands and moving bodies. “I missed you,” I whisper as he slides inside me. We’ve done this particular dance many times before, but this time is nothing like anything before it.

  This time nothing is held back.

  Nothing is hidden.

  We move against each other as one with our eyes open, knowing full well that this is the beginning, not the end. And it’s so unbelievably, earth-shatteringly, torturously good.

  We find our peak together, and when we finally crash back down to earth, we’re smiling in relief. Luke collapses down, pulling me against him, my head resting on his chest over his racing heart.
r />   “Will you move in with me?” he asks after a long quiet moment, his fingers gliding up and down my bare back.

  “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you.”

  “Nope. You heard me.”

  “Impossible. It’s far too absurd of a question to have been uttered.”

  “The thought of you being in your place alone and me in mine is a little much for me. I realize we’re trying to start over and that this is sort of new for us, but I want you to live with me.”

  “Live with you?”

  “Yes.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? I want you with me. I enjoy having you in my bed every night in my arms. Last night, holding you like that, holding you like this, it’s the way it should be.”

  “We’ve been back together for what? Five minutes? Absolutely not!” I practically shriek.

  “I was just asking.”

  “Well, you can stop asking.”

  “Demanding woman.” His mouth meets mine, but this time, he’s almost aggressive. Maybe he’s angry, maybe he’s just having fun, I don’t care either way. “Oh, Ivy,” he groans against my lips before dipping down to my throat. “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard.”

  My eyes roll back in my head with just his words. Jesus, I’m in trouble with this one. And when he keeps his promise, when I’m crying out his name and begging for him never to stop, he whispers words of love in my ear that bring me to a place I’ve never been before.

  “That was amazing,” I say touching his sweaty face.

  “No, Ivy, that was so much more than amazing. That was transcendent. That was perfection. That was something entirely new.”

  Chapter 36

  Ivy

  I wake up well before the sun comes up with a heavily sleeping Luke wrapped around me. I hate to leave him, but I have to if I’m going to get home, grab clean scrubs and a shower before my shift. I try to pry myself away from his vice grip without disturbing him, but he stirs, pulling me back into his warm embrace.

  “If you lived here, you’d be home and therefore all of your stuff would be here and you wouldn’t have to sneak out in the wee hours of the morning,” Luke rasps out, kissing my neck in a very distracting way.

  “Don’t start with that again. I think we should try being an actual couple for a while before we discuss cohabitation.”

  “Cohabitation? You make it sound like a disease. You know Kate and Ryan moved in together pretty quickly, and now look at them.”

  Sighing, I push him off before sitting up and pulling on my jeans from last night. “Please just drop it. I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want things getting ahead of us.”

  Luke props himself up, resting his head in his hand as he watches me dress. “Fine, I’ll let it go for now. Are you working tomorrow?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because I was thinking I’d drug you, drag you down to city hall and marry you.”

  I turn around after securing my bra and face him with a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m kidding.” He laughs, holding his hands up in surrender, no doubt reading my murderous expression accurately. “Well, sort of. Only really about the drugging and dragging and city hall part. We’ll discuss the marrying part another time.”

  “You just don’t quit, do you?”

  “There’s no fun in that.”

  I lean over, kissing his lips chastely. “And you’re all about the fun.”

  “I am, which brings me back to tomorrow. Wanna hang out with me?” He bounces his eyebrows playfully.

  I laugh, shaking my head, as I search for my shirt, which I suddenly remember leaving by the front door. “Tomorrow is great.” I kiss him again. “I have to go.”

  “Fine,” he groans. “Go, but you’ll miss me and wish you never left my bed.”

  “Probably true.”

  “I love you,” he calls out and I can’t stop my gleeful smile.

  “I love you too,” I holler back as I locate my shirt and throw it on before flying out the door only to realize I don’t have my car here. Luke drove last night and I left mine at the hospital. “Bugger!”

  “Yet another reason for you to live with me,” he says with a smug smirk, walking down the stairs behind me, his keys in hand. “I’ll drive you.”

  Luke lets out a really big yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He’s ridiculously adorable right now with sex—and sleep—tousled hair accompanying that damn playful smile.

  I believe him when he tells me that he loves me, because I not only see it, I feel it. He is unabashed about it, and though I love him equally, I can’t help but feel the shutter of fear that this will all come crashing down on me at any moment. That we’ll be on a date, or talking, and suddenly, he’ll be called away or disclose something horrific or explain to me why we can’t be together for my own good.

  Because all of those things has happened before.

  And the scars they left are indelible. I just need more time to heal. For him to prove to me that he’s here, and that this thing between us is real and won’t disappear at a moment’s notice.

  Luke patiently waits while I shower and change at my place before bringing me to the hospital and leaving me there with promises of dinner and a sleepover at my flat tonight. My morning starts out great, but by ten-thirty I have a headache and my throat feels scratchy. By the time I get off the phone with Craig and Darcy at the end of my lunch hour, my whole body aches and I have the chills.

  I take some medicine—working in a hospital has its advantages—but by late afternoon, I’m miserable. Luckily I’m not in the ED today, I’m simply in clinic and I only have two more patients to see.

  I shoot Luke a text telling him that I’m sick with some sort of plague and that he should save himself before he catches it, and we start a city-wide epidemic. I get no text in return, but frankly I don’t have the brain power to care.

  “Sit down, Ivy. You look like death and I want to check your temperature,” Caroline, one of my nurse’s says.

  “I’m fine. I’ll just go home and sleep.”

  Caroline shoves a temporal scanning thermometer against my forehead and two seconds later declares that I have a fever and need to go home.

  Right. No kidding. I could have told her that much.

  The thought of driving home in traffic is not appealing, but I have little choice and as luck would have it, it takes me twice as long because of an accident. My head is pounding, my body wants to shrivel up and die, my throat is on fire and my stomach may even be getting in on the action.

  I need my bed and I need it now, which is why I’m beyond relieved when I step into my apartment, only to find Luke in my kitchen standing over a pot of something that smells dangerously close to chicken soup.

  How did he get into my flat?

  “Hi, baby,” he says casually like him standing in my kitchen with my bloody lavender apron on, stirring soup is the most normal thing in the world.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice sounds like I’ve been eating sand and washing it down with shards of glass.

  “I got your text,” he says as if this should explain everything.

  “Luke, I need sleep. I’m not up for a visit.” Dropping my work bag to the floor, I trudge to my room, not waiting for a response, but when I get in there I see what he’s done and I suddenly feel so horrible for snapping at him.

  There’s an extra blanket on my bed, one that is not mine, but looks so warm and comfy I could cry. There’s a fresh box of tissues on my night stand, a glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, a bottle of Motrin, and a thermometer.

  “Did you do all this?” I ask, hearing his footsteps approaching.

  “Of course I did. What? Did you think the sick fairy came in and paid you a visit while you were at work?”

  “Luke . . .” I can’t even finish my sentence because I’m suddenly crying the way I do whenever I’m sick, which only makes my head and my throat ache more.

  “O
h baby, no.” Luke scoops me up into his arms, before carrying me like a little girl over to my bed. He pulls the covers back before placing me down as gently as possible. He removes my shoes one by one, followed by my trousers and blouse. My body is wracked with shivers almost instantly, so he strips down to his boxers before climbing in behind me and covering us both with the heavy weight of the comforter.

  I’ve never felt this before, not even with my mum when I was a little girl. If this is what being taken care of by Luke Walker feels like, sign me up. Maybe living together isn’t such a bad idea after all.

  “Are you delirious, or did you actually mean that?” he asks and I move my head marginally in his direction because I have no idea what he’s talking about. “You just said living together wasn’t such a bad idea.”

  Oops.

  “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  “You did. When you’re no longer sick, I’ll convince you, but for now close your eyes and get some rest, baby. It’s like lying next to a freaking oven. I’m starting to sweat just from holding you.”

  “You don’t have to,” I manage but I’m praying he doesn’t move because he feels heavenly next to me and I might start crying again if he leaves.

  “I’m not going anywhere, but can I talk you into taking some of these wonderful drugs that I procured? The pharmacist explained that you can take both, but should alternate them instead of taking them all at once.”

  “You spoke to the pharmacist for me?” Now I’m crying again.

  He chuckles lightly, kissing the back of my head. “I didn’t know what you needed, so yeah, I did. I have other crap too, but here,” he rolls away from me for a moment, but before I can protest, he’s back, “take this.” I’m handed two pills that I don’t even care to examine and a glass of water, both of which sting something fierce on their way down my throat.

  “I’m probably contagious, you know. It may be strep.”

  Why didn’t I swab myself at work?

  “Can I get you something for that?”