by Nia Arthurs
Alright.
That’s…
I mean…
She leans back. “We have the house to ourselves.” Her eyes dip to my lips. “All. Night.”
I toss my bag aside and advance. “In that case…”
She giggles and pushes me back. “I thought we could do something.”
“Yeah?”
Ina gestures to the kitchen.
I slide my hands around her waist. “You want to do it in there?”
“Yes.”
I picture her, folded over the counter, gasping my name.
Hell yeah.
“Cookies.”
I blink. Then blink again. “What?”
“I’ve always wanted to bake cookies with you.”
Cookies?
She nods. Blinks. Nods again.
Her fingers grip my shirt and tighten as she waits for my answer.
I know Ina didn’t sneak into my house tonight in that outfit just to make cookies.
“Is that all?”
“Later,” she sucks in a deep breath and shakily whispers, “I want to… um… later. But right now…”
I kiss her softly. “Okay.”
Her smile is tinged with relief.
She was nervous.
She’s trying so hard.
My heart overflows.
I slide my hands under her knees and scoop her up.
Ina shrieks as she grabs ahold of my neck. “Lucas, I’m heavy.”
“Woman, you want cookies? Just sit there and look pretty. I’ll give you all the cookies you want.”
Her happy squeals are loud enough to wake the neighbors.
Laughing, I cart her into the kitchen.
“Oh.”
I turn down John Legend’s crooning from the speakers hidden in my kitchen. “Is it that good?”
Ina nods contentedly. She’s sitting on the counter, her skirt riding high and a bowl settled between her legs.
It’s torture seeing her in that skirt, wondering what she’s wearing underneath.
I want to touch her so badly it’s killing me.
But I’m not that kind of guy.
She’s the most important woman in the world to me. The only person outside of Jonas that I’d die for.
I can’t mess that up.
No matter how badly I want to hear that groan again.
No matter how stunning she looks in that short skirt and slinky blouse, her creamy brown thighs flat against the counter, her tongue rasping sensually against the metal spoon.
I’ve never been into curvy girls, but Ina’s made me a believer for life. The wide hips, the lush chest, the dip of her waist. I want that soft body against my—
“Lucas?”
“Hm.” I focus on her.
“You want a taste?”
The batter.
Of course.
She’s not asking me to take her against the table.
I clear my throat. Stride closer to her. Closer than I should be given my state of mind.
She extends the spoon.
I lean over, my eyes on her as I take a chomp. I lick the batter off my top lip. Vanilla. Sugar. Chocolate chips. Not bad, but it’s not exactly the taste I want in my mouth right now.
Her eyes fall to my lips. They glimmer with a mixture of need and hesitation.
As usual, I wait for her to move in.
She doesn’t.
My chest traps my sigh of disappointment.
I know she wants me.
And Lord knows how much I want her.
But every time I push first, Ina closes up.
I’ve learned to keep still, to go at her pace. And it’s worked out really well for us so far.
But nights like tonight—
I’m trying not to lose my patience. The moment I do, I’ll jeopardize everything. Every time she pushes me away, she beats herself up for not being ‘normal’.
Whatever the hell normal is these days.
Losing the trust I’ve built, losing this—
It’s not worth it. Not even for the chance to feel her tremble under me, again and again, gasping until she’s so worn out she can’t even move.
I grab the spoon from her. Desperate to focus on something besides the images stealing into my head.
It doesn’t help.
The batter only emphasizes how much better Ina would taste in my mouth, how badly I want her squirming and moaning as I stroke her body like a guitar.
Her big brown eyes remain on me.
They beg me to touch her.
I shake my head, trying to play it cool. “Oh. You wanted this?”
“Lucas!” She reaches for the spoon.
I hold it over my head.
She jumps a few times. Her body slides down the length of mine with each descent.
I curl my fingers around her arm to keep her still. “Not my fault you’re fun-sized.”
“Oh, yeah?” She huffs. Grabs the bowl. Flings batter at me.
It hits my cheek.
The woman has a good throwing arm.
“Ha!” She smirks what are you going to do now?
I fling a string of batter right back in her direction.
She shrieks with laughter as it hits her shoulder.
Yes. That sound. That laughter.
The happiness in her eyes.
I want it all.
Ina sticks her fingers into the bowl again.
I stop her with a grunt. “Truce?”
She shakes her head. Moves toward me. Draws a line of batter on my face from my forehead down to my lips.
Her smile is both mischievous and sensual. “I win.”
I don’t admit defeat so easily. Not with how competitive I am.
For Ina—
Damn, how I want her. Her thighs pressed against mine, her nails raking through my hair as she screams my name.
I need to calm the hell down or a cold shower won’t be enough to handle this.
Ina presses her chest against me. “Let me clean you up.”
I expect her to back off. Get a towel.
Her lips curl into a smile.
She reaches up and sucks the batter off my chin with her mouth.
Holy freaking…
My hand hovers over her shoulders. “Ina…”
The ties holding my self-restraint together are starting to snap.
Her chest heaves with a deep breath.
She moves up the line of batter, stopping against my lips.
She’s sucking on my mouth.
I kiss her back.
My heart pounds like a freaking congo drum.
I shift back, to give her room. To draw the line between what I want and what she wants.
Her gaze falls on me.
Her brown eyes are hazy with desire.
“Don’t stop,” she says quietly.
Hell.
Yes.
My body takes over as if it’s been waiting for this moment since the beginning of time. I push her back and pin her against the counter with my hip, watching her face carefully.
Her fingers brush over my nose. She wipes off a bit of batter with her thumb.
Our eyes meet.
There’s no fear in her expression. She wants me. Wants this.
I wrap my fingers around her wrist and guide her hand to my lips to suck the batter off her thumb.
Ina gasps in quiet shock.
Her eyes darken with need as she drags her fingers over my mouth. The exploration is gentle, but not innocent.
This isn’t her analytical side coming out to play.
It’s her desire.
Her body.
Her soul.
Her everything.
I scrape batter off her shoulder and motion to her. She meets the challenge in my eyes with a look that says I’m going to drive you wild tonight and takes my finger into her mouth.
Blood rushes south. It’s too late.
My body’s crossed a line.
There’s no turning back.
>
Ina groans.
I replace my finger with my lips and kiss her deeply.
She tastes so freaking good.
That’s Ina. That’s my baby. My darling. My light.
I need every part of her. Every inch. Need her screaming with pleasure in my bed.
This is happening.
I rub her cheek. “Ina.”
She sighs, closes her eyes and whispers, “I’m ready.”
“Darling…”
She curls her fingers into the band of my pants. “Please.”
The last of my restraint crumples to ash as her warm fingers brush my skin. I pull her into a deep kiss, tearing off her blouse and dragging my fingers and my mouth over her chest until she’s panting.
My breath thickens. Damn. She’s sweeter than the batter.
Ina arches her body against mine. Tugs at my hair. Kisses me back like we’re going down with the ship.
I pull back. “I’m going out of my freaking mind.”
She nods toward my bedroom.
I still hesitate.
I’ve been waiting a hell of a long time for this.
There’s no way I can find the control to ease her into it. She’s been imagining this, sure, but not as much as I have.
I stroke her chest. “Darling, we can wait.”
“How long have you wanted me?”
I don’t dare answer that question.
“I’m yours.” She leans into my ear and whispers, “Do whatever you want tonight, Lucas.”
My lips go to her mouth. Two magnets colliding.
My fingers tangle in the hem of her skirt.
Move up.
Up.
Brush against something silky.
That’s more than enough talking.
I lift her up once more and cart her away to the bedroom.
Thirty
Ina
The first panic attack happens without warning.
One moment, I’m riding waves of pleasure.
Writhing from the gift of Lucas’s expert fingers.
Drowning in his touch.
Gasping as he flips me over so I’m flat on my back.
The next, I’m cold as ice.
In the darkness, his face shifts.
It’s not Lucas that’s over me.
It’s him.
Panic grabs my heart like a rag doll.
Fear crawls through my veins, twining with the white-hot strikes of pleasure to become something twisted and ugly.
And feared.
I breathe hard.
Snap my eyes shut.
It’s Lucas. This is the man I love.
When I open my eyes, Lucas is there again.
I’m in the moment again.
He presses his palms against my thighs and spreads my legs apart, positioning himself over me.
He murmurs sweet things in my ear.
My limbs go light.
I trust him. This is Lucas.
My fingertips dig into his back as he drops some of his weight on me.
His groans fill my ear.
My body stretches to accept him.
Slowly, he brings his mouth to mine.
But it’s not Lucas’s mouth.
It’s him.
I panic, my eyes bursting open.
It’s still him.
Fear snaps my neck.
Dread creeps through every nerve in my body.
My hand goes to his dark hair. I try to tug him off.
He won’t go.
He won’t let me leave.
It hurts.
Tears brim in my eyes.
He’s too heavy.
My legs fight him off. I kick free. Kick again.
The back of my foot connects with a solid chest.
I hear a grunt. Then an expletive.
Something thuds to the ground.
He’s off.
I sit up and turn away, wrapping my arms around my knees. I rock back and forth, trying not to cry. Trying not to be loud. If I’m loud, he’ll kill me.
I don’t want to die.
Please God. Please. If you exist… if you hear me, I don’t want to die.
“Ina.” He touches my shoulder.
I scream and bury my head between my knees.
My nerves are raw, on edge.
If he tries to touch me again…
I hear footsteps.
Angry thuds.
I make myself as small as I can on the edge of the bed.
My eyelids flutter together.
“Please leave me alone. Please. Please. Please.” I blink and the room comes into focus.
But it’s not the room I remember.
My head tilts up.
White ceiling.
There aren’t any plastic stars.
Confusion shrouds me.
What?
A hand curls over my shoulder.
I wrench away, violently trembling. “Don’t touch me.”
“Ina…” That’s Lucas’s voice.
His heartbroken, very worried voice.
I’m in Lucas’s room.
I’m naked because we were just making love.
Shame balloons in my body.
Tears prick the back of my eyelids.
No.
Did I just…?
When we were in the middle of—
No.
I thought I was better.
I thought…
I was wrong.
He’s still got power over me.
Even after all these years…
Even after all the self-defenses classes and the therapy sessions…
I’m still broken.
I’m still stained.
A bitter sob wrenches free from my chest.
“Darling,” Lucas says behind me. I can tell that he wants to hug me. I can feel him hovering, unsure of what to do. I hear his hands rising and then falling back against his sides.
He’s probably upset.
It was our special night and I ruined it.
He didn’t sign up for this.
He didn’t ask for a basket case girlfriend he can’t have sex with.
My chest rises and falls.
“Ina, talk to me.”
I shake my head. Climb gingerly off the bed.
“Ina.”
I bend to grab my skirt from the floor.
Lucas’s footsteps approach.
I stiffen, keeping my gaze on the ground as I pull my skirt over my thighs and shimmy it up to my hips.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says. “I’m sorry if I did.”
I stop in my tracks.
A tear slips down my face.
I know that.
I know that Lucas is a good man.
The fact that I have him apologizing to me, thinking that he hurt me, that he’s been anything but kind, wonderful and patient is absurd. It’s heartbreaking. It’s unacceptable.
I try to talk, but there’s a lump in my throat the size of my fist. Instead, I search for my top.
There’s no sign of it.
I spot Lucas’s button-down on the other side of the bed and rush to pick it up.
“Alright,” Lucas says, “alright. You don’t have to talk. At least let me take you home.”
I pull his shirt to my chest and shake my head.
“Ina.”
“No.” I slip my arms into the shirt. Button it up. Let it fall against my thighs.
The shirt smells like Lucas. Something crisp and manly.
I really don’t want to give this back.
I have a feeling it’ll be the only thing I can remember him by for a while.
“I’m not letting you walk out of here alone,” he says, his voice firm. “Just let me get dressed.”
I nod. Start to move outside.
He slams the door shut.
I jump. Turn around. Meet his eyes.
They’re dark. Stormy.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I don’t trust you,”
he says simply. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re safely home.”
My eyes wither to the ground. He knows me too well. I was already planning to make a break for it while he was dressing.
Lucas doesn’t say much after that.
He doesn’t speak when he drives me home either.
I hunker down in my seat, my arms folded over my chest and my body shivering even though it’s not cold in the car.
My mind keeps returning to that moment, seeing him over Lucas’s face in the bedroom.
That’s… so, so unfair.
Lucas is nothing like him.
I can’t believe I did that.
I can’t believe—
He parks in front of my house. Shuts the engine. The car hisses and then goes silent.
The lump in my throat is still there, but I force myself to speak around it. “Are you… how’s your chest?”
“Fine.” He stares straight ahead.
I glance at my hands in my lap. They’re trembling.
This is wrong.
Lucas is wonderful, smart, funny, and kind. He could have a hundred girls if he wanted. Wouldn’t even have to try hard.
I want that for him.
So badly.
I want him to be happy.
Even if that means he can’t be with me.
Just the thought of losing Lucas makes my heart bleed.
I sit there, breathing and summoning up the courage to do what needs to be done.
Finally, I turn to him. “I know you’re angry.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
His eyes find mine, dark as two burning coals. “Don’t say it.”
My eyes flutter.
“I know what you’re going to say.” He turns and stares forward. “Don’t.”
“Lucas, you deserve—”
He cracks his door open and shoves one leg out.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m walking home.”
I stare at the inky black sky, my eyes widening. “You live all the way across town.”
He starts to shift out of the car.
“Okay. Okay.” I push my door and scramble out. “I’m going.”
Lucas gets back into the car.
I lean over and stare at him through the lowered window.
He doesn’t look at me.
He doesn’t say anything.
The car purrs to life.
Lucas shifts the gears. A moment later, he’s speeding away.
I tiptoe into the house, dragging my heart behind me. I feel like I don’t even deserve to cry. How can I when I’m the one who deserves to be punished?
The house is silent.
I change into my pajamas and tiptoe down the hall to check on Mrs. G. She barely stirs when I check her vitals and smooth the blanket under her chin.
