Chapter 5: The Yogurt Gambit

I played for two whole hours. The clock ticked past midnight, the room lit only by the soft glow of my phone and the city lights outside.

Suddenly, a loud growl echoed in the room—his stomach. It sounded like a bear had wandered into the suite.

I looked up to see Luke clutching his belly. He looked so pitiful, I almost felt guilty.

Only then did I remember—this fool hadn’t eaten all day. My frustration softened, replaced by something warmer, more familiar. I’d always been a sucker for lost causes.

My anger faded a bit. I caught a glimpse of his face in the soft light, shadows tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. That lean, toned waist under his shirt, muscles tensing as he shifted, reminded me just how alive he really was.

Looking at his handsome face and that lean, toned waist, my desire flared again. Maybe it was the hunger, maybe just the hour, but suddenly all my resolve felt paper-thin.

A lightbulb went off in my head. If seduction didn’t work, maybe food would. Even superheroes need fuel, right?

I could’ve grabbed the kale chips or the tiny bottles of overpriced cold brew, but yogurt seemed like the safest bet. I rushed to the snack cabinet, deliberately taking out a cup of Greek yogurt in front of him, and locked the cabinet with a click. The little gold padlock snapped shut, the sound oddly satisfying.

"Want some?" I shook the yogurt, slowly peeling back the lid in front of him. I made a show of it, the way they do in those Yoplait commercials.

Luke was really hungry—his eyes locked onto the yogurt in my hand. He swallowed. I caught the movement, a tiny tell. If only he’d look at me that way.

Damn it. He’s never swallowed for me, but for yogurt he does. If that’s not a metaphor for my life, I don’t know what is.

"So tasty~" I licked the tip of the spoon on purpose. "Want a taste?" I tried to look as sultry as possible, channeling my inner influencer.

He nodded, but his eyes were full of caution. Trust didn’t come easily, even now.

"Come here, let me feed you. I promise I won’t bite—unless you want me to." I winked, trying to coax him closer, using my best playful banter.

"Don’t trust you," he said, taking a step back. His voice was wary, but there was a hint of playfulness too.

I took a deep breath and forced a smile. "How about this—you stand on that side of the bed, I’ll be on this side, and I’ll feed you across the bed, okay?" Negotiation. The American way.

He tilted his head, thought for a moment, and finally shuffled to the other side of the bed. Small victories.

I leaned over, stretching out my arm and holding the spoon to his lips. "Ah—" My voice went soft, almost maternal. For a split second, I pictured us ten years from now, feeding our kid applesauce in a high chair.

Luke leaned in from the other side, bent down, and took the spoon in his mouth. His lips closed around it, tongue curling skillfully. The white yogurt slid onto his rosy tongue, and I found myself mesmerized.

So sexy. My pulse quickened, heat blooming under my skin. This wasn’t how I’d imagined my first married kiss, but it was electric in its own way.

In my ear, I could almost hear my best friend Rachel’s words: "A guy like Luke Anderson would be a wild kisser." She’d always had a knack for spotting trouble.

I stared at his mouth, swallowing hard myself. I really wanted a taste. The air between us felt charged, every breath a promise.

I kept feeding him, like a relentless yogurt-dispensing machine. Spoon after spoon. My hands shook, just a little.

Luke gradually let his guard down, lowering his lashes and obediently opening his mouth, all while still playing with Captain America. It was infuriating and endearing in equal measure.

He didn’t notice when the spoon I offered became my finger. I watched him, waiting for the moment he’d realize.

He instinctively sucked my fingertip, his tongue brushing over my skin. A jolt of heat shot up my arm, straight to my core. I bit my lip, fighting back a moan.

A tingling sensation shot up my spine, making me almost moan. I had to clamp my thighs together, pressing my knees into the mattress for support.

Perfect. My plan was working. I glanced at the clock, counting the seconds until I could make my next move.

Next step: get his pants off. My mind raced, weighing tactics. I could be patient. I could.

He still hadn’t noticed anything, just kept sucking down yogurt spoonful after spoonful. The innocence on his face made my heart ache. Or maybe it was just anticipation.

Each time I fed him, I’d inch a little closer on the bed, in a thoroughly undignified posture. My nightdress rode up my thighs, the sheets rumpling beneath me.

The distance between us closed to two feet. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the tension building with every breath.

Luke was right in front of me now. His focused licking looked so innocent, but was so seductive it made my mouth go dry. I wondered if he knew, even a little, what he was doing to me.

I stared at his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, my mind fixed on one thing: Time to undo his belt. My fingers itched to reach out, to close the final gap.

The yogurt was almost gone. My heart hammered. This was the moment of truth.

This was the moment of truth. My palms were sweaty, nerves jangling like windchimes in a storm.

I dipped my finger in the last bit of yogurt and offered it to him. As Luke leaned in to lick, I suddenly pulled my hand away.

He instinctively chased after it, lost his balance, and fell right on top of me. The weight of him pressed me into the mattress, his breath warm against my neck.

Here’s my chance. Everything else faded away, the only sound my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

I immediately wrapped my legs around his waist, locking him in place. The move was bold, a little wild, and completely necessary.

My fingers fumbled impatiently at his belt. What kind of crappy belt is this? Why won’t it open? My nails scratched at the leather, the metal buckle refusing to budge.

Afraid he’d escape again, I tightened my hold. I squeezed my thighs, determined not to let him slip away a second time.

"Don’t move."

Luke soothed me, his voice suddenly deep and rough—not at all like a fool. The sudden shift sent a shiver down my spine. The change was unmistakable; the real Luke was back, if only for a moment.

My breath caught. For a split second, it felt like the old Luke—the one who could make me blush just by looking at me—was back.

Before I could react, I heard a click—

He undid the metal belt buckle with one hand. There was hope! I could barely breathe, anticipation coiling inside me.

The next second, Luke slid the belt out, tossed it beside my head, and leaned down, pressing his body against mine. The heat of him was overwhelming, solid and real.

That familiar, overwhelming presence—as if the real Luke Anderson was back. My heart skipped, the world narrowing to just us, tangled up in each other.

Is it happening? My whole body buzzed, every nerve ending lit up. I squeezed my eyes shut, nerves tingling with anticipation.

And then—just as his lips brushed my ear—he whispered something that changed everything.