He grins. "I know."

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to make slow, sweet love to you." His fingertips are just barely touching me, brushing up and down my back, sending shivers through me, and his lips mirror them on my neck. It's sensation gone mad.

"That sounds lovely."

He lifts me in his arms and I wrap my fingers in his hair as my lips find his in a soft kiss. He gently lowers me onto the bed and covers me with his body, his legs between mine. He glides his right hand up my left arm and links our fingers, but instead of holding them above my head he simply rests them on the bed next to my head.

This isn't about restraining me, or playing with me. This is about him showing me how much he loves me, and it fills me with so much strength and reassurance and tenderness.

He runs the fingers of his left hand through the hair by my face as he continues to kiss me, softly, gently, patiently. I rest the bottoms of my feet on his calves, rubbing up and down, caressing him, as I thrum the fingertips of my free hand up and down his strong back.

I can feel his hardness against me, but he makes no move to sink inside me. Not yet.

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs against my lips.

"You make me feel beautiful," I whisper to him and he groans.

He plants tiny kisses at the side of my mouth. I weave my fingers into his hair and gently caress him.

"I love your hair. It feels so good in my fingers."

"I figured that," he whispers and I feel him smile against my neck. "You always have your hands in it."

"Don't ever cut it short, please." I love hearing his whispery voice.

"Okay." He kisses my earlobe and tickles it with his teeth. "You have amazing skin; so smooth and soft. And you always smell so good."

His words are seductive, his hand is still moving in my hair and my body is humming.

My hips start to move beneath him and I feel his grin at my throat. "You know what you do to me."

"You do the same to me, baby." He flexes his hips, pushing his cock against my wet center. The tip slides against my clitoris and I gasp.

"I want you."

"I know. I want you too." I love the whispers, the soft sighs and gasps. This is the quietest our lovemaking has ever been, and it's no less intoxicating.

Oh so slowly he begins to fill me, one delightful inch at a time, until he's buried as far as he can go. He fills me up, physically, emotionally and I feel tears roll from the sides of my eyes.

This sweet, protective, kind, sexy man loves me. And I love him, oh so much.

"Don't cry, baby." His whispered voice is rough with emotion and he starts to slowly move, in and out of me. My legs hitch up higher around his hips, taking him in even deeper, and as he hits that most sensitive spot I feel sparks begin to fly through me.

"Oh, I'm gonna come, my love."

"Yes," he whispers in my ear, and I am lost, my orgasm consuming me, but I barely make a sound, caught up in our quiet lovemaking.

Luke stills, pushes into me one last time and empties himself into me, whispering my name.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

I've decided that being back in the real world does not suck.

We've been home from our romantic Tahitian getaway for a week, and we have fallen into a comfortable routine of work, flirty texts throughout the workday, hitting the gym or yoga together and alternating between his place and mine at night.

Tonight, we're staying at my place, and we're having dinner with Jules.

"That is not how you cook pasta!" Jules looks beautiful, as usual, as she glares at my boyfriend and I smirk.

"How the hell do you do it?" Luke is thoroughly frustrated with her and I'm sitting back with a glass of wine enjoying the show.

"You have to put the salt in the water before it comes to a boil. Everyone knows that."

"You know what, you do it. I'm going to make out with my girlfriend." He leaves Jules to finish dinner and comes around the breakfast bar to kiss me.

"Is she being mean to you?" I ask and caress his face.

"No, she just doesn't know how to cook and won't listen."

"I can hear, you know." Jules glares at us and we laugh.

I love spending evenings with these two. They both mean the world to me and I love it that they get along so well.

"So, Luke, when does your new movie come out?" Jules is stirring the pasta.

"This Friday," he responds and takes a sip of wine.

"What?" I exclaim. I had no idea! Why doesn't he tell me these things?

"Um, I have a movie coming out on Friday."

I stare at him, dumbfounded. Jules looks back and forth between us and then mutters, "Oops."

"Why didn't you say something?" My feelings are so hurt.

"It didn't occur to me." He frowns and shrugs.

"You have a major motion picture about to be released for millions of people to see, and it didn't occur to you to mention it to your girlfriend?" I turn and face him on my stool.

What the hell?

"I just did some of the production; I'm not starring in it or anything."

"I don't care, Luke. This is a big deal. Are you going to the premier?"

"No, absolutely not." He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair.

"Why? You should go. You're a part of it."

"No." He swallows hard. "I don't do that anymore."

"Either way, you should have told me. You never talk to me about your work, and you know all about mine." This is something that's been bothering me, and I'm glad Jules brought it up.

"What does a producer do, anyway?" Jules asks as she drains the pasta and starts layering lasagna in a glass dish.

"It depends on the producer. There are a lot of different roles. Some are on set during the entire production and run things there. Some work behind the scenes, securing money from a studio or wooing actors and directors. There are a lot of things to do, and there are usually a few producers doing different jobs."

"Okay, so what do you do, specifically?" I ask, sincerely interested.

"I've been doing the behind the scenes, pre-production stuff so I can work from here. Sometimes I have to make a trip to L.A. or New York for a brief meeting, but that's rare these days. Pretty much everything can be done on the phone or email. So, I talk to actors and directors, and sometimes sit in on conference calls to get money secured for a project." He's talking with his hands, so animated and enthusiastic, and it occurs to me, he really loves what he does. I smile at him and kiss his cheek.

"I'm proud of you."

"Why?"

"Because you're doing something you love and you're good at it."

"How do you know?"

"I wouldn't be with someone who sucks." I respond sassily and he laughs.

"So, how much money did you have to secure for the movie coming out on Friday? And who's in it anyway?" Jules slips the lasagna in the oven and leans across the counter listening attentively.

"It's called Rough Shot with Channing Tatum. It's an action, lots of stunts and stuff blowing up, so it was high budget. About a hundred million."

Jules and I look at each other and then back at Luke.

"I'm sorry, did you say a hundred million dollars?" My voice is very shrill. It's disturbing. Almost as disturbing as my boyfriend being responsible for raising a hundred million dollars.

"Yeah." He smiles shyly. "The action adventure movies are always high budget because there's a lot of cinematography involved, CGI, and a lot of other stuff that I don't really understand but know it's expensive."

I swallow. Wow.

"So, this is a big box office movie then."

"Yeah, it's expected to bring in about a hundred and fifty million this weekend." He shrugs again, but I see the pride in his eyes.

"So, here's where I get personal, and you can tell me to mind my own fucking business, but I'm curious because money is what I do for a living." Jules' eyes are gleaming with curiosity and I know exactly what she's going to ask.

"Okay, go ahead." Luke smirks. He knows too.

"Well, I know how much actors usually get paid for big budget films, but what about producers?"

"When all is said and done, after royalties and stuff, from this movie I'll probably bank about fifteen."

I narrow my eyes at him and bite my lip, not sure that I understand the words that just came out of his mouth. I look at Jules, and her mouth is opening and closing, also with no sound coming out.

Luke isn't looking at either of us. He's staring down at his wine.

Finally, Jules speaks first. "Please tell me you have a damn good entertainment lawyer and a team of entertainment accountants with excellent reputations. Because if you don't, I know some." She's completely serious.

Luke nods his head. "Yeah, that's all been covered for years."

"Good," she responds.

I just don't know what to say. I knew he was wealthy, but I had no idea. Finally, Luke looks over at me. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I whisper.

"You look a little pale." He looks worried.

"I'm okay." I shake myself out of my stare and look to Jules for guidance.

"Nat," she says, "You're no stranger to money."

"No, I'm not."

"Your parents left you like twenty million."

Luke blanches.

"I know."

"So, what's wrong?" she asks quietly.

I frown. "Well, I guess it's just a lot to take in." I look at Luke and finally, needing to touch him, grip his hand in mine. "I'm sorry, honey. The money isn't that big of a deal to me, you know that. I guess it's just surprising to hear that my man deals with actors and hundred million dollar movies and is friends with Steven Spielberg. It's easy to forget because we're so far removed from that life."

"Nat, I've removed myself on purpose."

"I know."

"Don't freak out on me," he whispers.

"I am not freaking out on you." I smile, finding my equilibrium.

"Um, can I ask one more question?" Jules raises her hand like we're in class and we laugh.

"Okay."

"Can I have Channing Tatum's number?"