by Caro LaFever
They hadn’t.
Lali had told her Luc wasn’t one for surprises. But she was one for surprises and since they were each other’s Fate it was crucial he understood that in life, there were surprises. Good ones, if a person approached them with an appropriate attitude.
Sighing, she slumped farther.
Mais, maybe she should have told him about the reservation. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been such a jerk.
The clang of the iron gate outside made her straighten in anticipation. Within a second or two, Luc’s broad shoulders and big body filled the kitchen door’s square window.
He stopped, the door still open in front of him, his hair silhouetted in the moonlight, his face in the shadows. “Nina?”
“Who else?” She’d had so much to say to him, except now, all she could think about was combing her fingers through his messy curls.
The desire she continually felt for this man amazed her. She liked sex, she’d always liked sex. With Luc, though, sex had gone from fun and frolic to something richer and deeper. His touch when he came to her, gentle and tender, then demanding and needy, made her feel whole and womanly. The way he tucked her to his side when they finished, as if he’d never let her go. The soft kiss he always placed on her forehead when he got up early in the morning.
She’d never felt like this with any other man. But it made sense. He was her Fate.
A kiss. Just one kiss and then they’d talk, she promised herself.
“What are you doing, sitting here in the dark?” The door slammed, a punctuation to his gruff question.
“Waiting for you, of course.” Maybe not a kiss. Maybe a kick instead.
He grunted before opening the fridge to stare inside.
After living with this man for weeks, she knew his habits. Unlike his appearance, he tended toward obsessive cleanliness. The kitchen needed to be put in order after they ate. Things had to be put away in their right place. His bedroom was almost spartan in its simplicity.
He also never drank liquor here, other than the one time she’d given him Paw-Paw’s cure for a hangover.
His hand shot into the fridge and came out with a bottle of craft beer that hadn’t moved since she moved in. She’d thought once or twice about opening it and taking a sip, but she’d never been one for beer, and why take the chance of making him grumpy?
“What are you doing, drinking liquor?” Surprise shot through her, along with a whisper of unease. “Turn on the light.”
Yanking open a drawer, he pulled out a bottle opener. He flipped the beer lid off and took a slug. Which was an answer in itself.
Her non-existent temper flared. “What were you thinking this evening?”
“I’m taking a drink of beer because when a woman sits in wait on a man’s return home, it’s trouble for him. Plain and simple. I’d rather not see your scowl, which is why I’m not turning on the lights.” He took another slug. “And as far as the second question, I’m assuming you mean when I was set up to meet your family without any warning.”
“You have people coming into your restaurant all the time. You already met my sisters. Why did you need a warning?” However, she knew she was standing on shaky ground here. Perhaps she should have dropped a hint. Her irritation twisted around regret. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“No?” He sipped the brew once more. “I’d say bringing my family and yours together without talking it over with me is a pretty big deal.”
“I guess.” She sighed, willing to acknowledge his point. “I just didn’t think—”
“Yeah,” he drawled. “That’s typical for you, isn’t it, Nina?”
She could have labeled his words an accusation, yet there wasn’t any heat or anger in them. Instead, they were wry and knowing, like he understood her foibles. Unlike with her papa, she didn’t feel defensive. She felt accepted.
A well of tears filled her throat.
She sniffed.
“Mierda.” He tensed in the shadows, the bottle of beer stilling in his hands. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t.” Sliding off the stool, she rounded the counter to come to his side. “Luc.”
“What?” He shifted on his feet as if worried she might slug him even now.
Her anger leached away, replaced with an appreciation for his boundaries and the knowledge she’d crossed a line she shouldn’t have. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” he said again, his body growing taut.
“I was wrong not to tell you.” She slipped a hand into his empty one. “I guess I was worried you’d say no.”
He went silent, but his hand fisted around hers. The grip was firm and strong, like an anchor tying her to a sturdy dock. The realization coursed through her—Luc Miró wasn’t only her Fate, he was her mooring.
He chuckled, the sound dark and raspy. “I would have said no.”
“I know you so well.”
“Yeah,” he husked, “you do.”
Placing the beer bottle on the counter, he ran a hand from the small of her back to her neck. “And I know you, don’t I, Miss Nina?”
“No nicknames.”
Another chuckle, this one tinged with male desire. “I don’t want to fight or talk.”
“No?” She arched against him, taking in his musky scent and heated muscles. “What do you want to do instead, cher?”
“You know.” Whipping her in front of him, he leaned in and took her mouth.
His kiss was plaintive, as if he asked for her forgiveness and her soul and everything she wanted to offer. She licked her tongue along the crease of his lips and with a groan, he let her in. The kiss soon became frantic with need, as it often did when they came together.
“Upstairs,” he demanded. “Let’s go.”
She scampered up the stairs in front of him, hot with desire and love. By the time she entered his bedroom, she already had her T-shirt off and was tugging on her bra.
“Hold on there.” His hands swatted hers away. “This is my job.”
Turning, she let him undress her, standing in the moonlight and letting herself be taken.
“I adore your breasts.” He plumped them both in his broad hands, his white teeth flashing in the shadows when he grinned. “They’re exactly right for you.”
“What does that mean?” She glanced down at her chest, like it had some answers.
“Perky. Pointed. Designed to get my attention.”
His answer made her laugh.
“I adore your laugh, too.” Male fingers latched onto her jean shorts and tugged them down along with her panties. “I think I adore everything about you.”
“You think?” Her brows rose in a teasing gesture.
And then, he gifted her with his own rare laugh, sweeping her into the love she’d only recently understood and begun to cherish.
Within seconds, he’d shed his own clothes and climbed on top of her. She’d become used to the breadth and heft of his body. Her hands slid down his damp back to his glorious ass. “Hmm. You feel so good.”
He settled between her legs, his cock a hard rod on her abdomen. Resting his weight on his arms, he lurched up to stare at her face. “Nothing compared to you.”
She gave him a sultry grin. “Fast or slow?”
They’d done both during the last couple of weeks and she couldn’t decide what she liked better. Or rather, she enjoyed every position with Luc and every time they loved, she counted herself beyond lucky.
As her Maw-Maw would say, she’d been blessed with bon chance when she met this man.
He flashed her a grin above her. “How about something in between?”
“I’m up for that.” To catch him off guard, something she liked to do just to see him react, she snuck a finger down the crevasse of his butt.
With a gasp, he arched into her, his cock dripping pre-cum on her stomach. It told her everything she needed to know. “You like it.”
A pretend glare was his response. But not his only on
e. He leaned in and sucked on her nipple, making her gasp as well.
“Huh. Got ya,” he murmured before sliding to her other nipple.
Going back and forth, they teased each other with their lips and fingers, their bodies and their imaginations. Before too long, Nina only wanted one thing—Luc inside of her.
“Now.” She grabbed his fine ass and maneuvered him between her thighs.
A rumble of need, deep and dark, came from his chest. “Condom.”
When he’d finally capitulated to his Fate, she’d found him to be a prepared lover. Boxes of condoms appeared in his bedroom, along with oils, gels, even a vibrator. She didn’t really want a vibrator when he was around, she’d told him. Laughing and blushing with charming embarrassment, he’d admitted to reading an article in some women’s magazine.
Nina had ended up showing him he only needed to pay attention to her.
Not some other woman’s opinion.
His hand reached for the dresser and pulled out a silver package. Rearing onto his knees, he prepared himself. Yet, as she opened her arms and legs for him, he stilled. Staring down at his engorged cock and her welcoming body, he didn’t move for a long moment.
“Luc?” she frowned in confusion. “Is there something wrong?”
“No,” he said slowly. “I just figured out something. Something you might not like.”
“Anything about you is something I’ll like.” She stated the words with complete confidence.
A rough chuckle was her response. “Little girl. Always so sure.”
Instant irritation welled. “Do I look like a little girl to you, saleau?”
“Nicknames, nicknames,” he tutted as he slid down on her body. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not a little girl.” She semi-glared at him. “We’ve had this discussion before.”
“I know.” His hand came up to cup her chin. The kiss he gave her was tender. “It’s only that sometimes I need to remind myself how precious you are. Like a blossom I have to protect.”
“Precious?” She liked that, but the other? “I don’t need to be protected by you.”
He chuckled again. Simultaneously, he eased into her body. “Remember? I said no fighting or talking right now.”
Sighing, she let him sink into her and let his words fall away.
“You are, you know.” He placed another careful kiss on her lips. “So precious to me.”
Gasping into his mouth, she slid her legs around him, adjusting herself to his thrust. And adjusting her trembling heart into a new position Fate had designed for only her. She was precious to him. With his other comment swimming in her head, she’d missed the significance.
Precious. Her. To him.
That must mean he loved.
“Dios,” he muttered on her cheek before placing his head next to hers on the pillow. His musky scent swirled around her, a tangle of male need mixed with virile power.
Nina placed her hands on the small of his back and pushed herself into him, driving him deep inside.
As expected, he took the message and started thrusting hard.
She hummed her pleasure into his ear.
His pace increased, long, concentrated strokes of his body into hers. He’d learned her needs during these weeks, paying attention to every gasp and groan. As a good lover should, he had absorbed everything about her.
Lifting himself, he drove into again, hitting exactly the right spot.
“Luc,” she moaned.
A muffled chuckle came from him, filled with humor as well as confidence.
He pumped again.
Falling over the edge into complete pleasure, her fingers bit into the skin of his back. The orgasm rolled across her like a cloud of bliss. Every muscle tightened and the core of her gripped him too.
“Yeeeaah,” he drawled the word out, with distinct satisfaction.
Nina returned to consciousness after several seconds in pure euphoria to find him staring down at her, his cock still lying hard in her, his big body stationary.
He hadn’t come. She could tell by his tense muscles and the tightness of his mouth. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing.” A look of astonishment crossed his face. “Not a damn thing.”
A bubble of laughter threatened to escape, but she’d learned during this time with him—Luc Miró might be a confident, even cocky, chef and arrogant in every other area of his life, yet where sex was concerned, his ego was fragile. Although, she’d been working on that and he was coming along.
Speaking of coming…
“I think you should move, cher.” She bumped her hips on his, concern filling her as he continued to look dazed.
He grunted, his gaze falling to her bobbing breasts.
The length and rigidity of his cock told her he hadn’t lost interest in the sex. What was he thinking?
“Or maybe we should just go to sleep,” she suggested in a sultry slur. “You are getting older.”
His head jerked up at that comment, and the stunned look dropped from his face to be replaced with a curl of a grin and a glitter in his dark eyes. “Turning the tables on me, youngster?”
Sighing, she patted his cheek. “I’ll understand if you can’t finish.”
A crack of laughter was his response. He lunged into her, his stroke strong and sure. “You’ll pay for that.”
She did. Luc clearly took delight when she orgasmed over and over. Finally, he poured himself into her welcoming body with a harsh groan. His weight settled on her, like a heated fortress of male. Nina didn’t want to think of herself as needing protection. But the feeling of being surrounded and cared for did appeal.
“Hmm,” she hummed into his ear, while she ran her hands down his sweaty back. “Cher.”
A snore was her response.
Looking at the ceiling, she grinned. Such a man.
Her man.
Chapter 27
Nina woke when a large hand swept across her brow, pushing back her tousled hair. By the filtered light coming through the crack in the curtains, it was early morning.
“Luc,” she muttered. Rolling into his warmth, she snuffled on his shoulder.
“Hey, sleepy, I need to tell you something before I get up and go to work.”
Prying open her eyes, she swung her head around to meet his determined look. Apparently this telling wasn’t anything about café au laits or beignets. His expression was tense, now that she focused, pushing her sleepy comfort away.
She frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Doubt filled her, as her gaze flashed across him. His big body lay on its side, turned toward her, yet rigid as if he were waiting for rejection. Broad shoulders rose from the covers, distracting her for a second. What a man. Still, the line of them was tight and taut, drawing her attention away from her attraction and back on worry.
“I was going to tell you last night, but—”
“But you fell asleep, old man.” Maybe a tease would lighten his mood.
Amusement flickered in his eyes, though, his mouth stayed firm.
“Are you going to break up with me, or something?” Another tease, mostly. For a second, she tried to imagine not having Luc anymore. Unlike her other boyfriends, not having this man would devastate her.
The worry ran up her throat to clutch.
“No, no.” His hand smoothed across her furrowed brow and his mouth gentled. “Nothing like that. Quite the opposite.”
Opposite? Did he mean…marriage? She didn’t mind the thought of it, which somewhat surprised her. He was her Fate and she embraced this with utter confidence. Except she hadn’t gotten to marriage. Not at this point. But really, when a man was your fate, marriage should come next. Right?
A man shouldn’t propose in bed, however. Not even a saleau would do that, would he?
Her frown returned.
His hand slid behind her neck and tugged her into his embrace. Although she was a bit unsettled, she took th
e hint and snuggled into his warmth.
“Here’s the thing,” he started, then stopped.
“Yeah?” she finally nudged him.
“Remember last night, when I was putting on the condom?”
She did. He’d stilled above her, appearing stunned by some thought in his male head. “I remember.”
“I want a baby with you,” he blurted.
Her mind went blank, and her body stiffened along his.
“Mierda. I’m screwing this up. Sorry.” Shifting closer, his grasp tightened. “Let me explain.”
“All right.” She hid a tentative grimace by tucking her head into the crease of his neck and shoulder.
“My wife was pregnant when she died.”
The harsh words fell like chunks of granite pain onto the bed and their bodies. She couldn’t help jerking in his grasp, stunned surprise racing in front of a well of compassion. Her head popped up to stare into his grim face. “Luc.”
“I found out when they did the autopsy. She hadn’t told me.”
Nina had learned from her grandparents how to take a person’s pain in and turn it to good. Yet in this instance, with this man, she felt incapable of finding the right words to soothe. Maybe there were no words. So instead, she tucked herself close to his side and wrapped her arm about his torso. Placing a tender kiss in the center of his chest, she waited. There was more in him.
His breath gusted out. “I don’t know if the baby was mine. It probably was, but it might have been my best friend’s. The one she fooled around with.”
The awful agony in his voice coated the words with a weary misery, as if he’d held on to this information for so long it had become part of him. Had he not shared this with anyone else? She didn’t think he had. Brushing her hand across his heart, she tried not to cry. Instinct told her it would upset him.
“I’m thirty-five.”
“Not old, cher,” she said with perfect honesty. For all her teases, she didn’t see this man as anything other than a guy in his prime.
A grunt came from her side. There was a tiny lacing of humor in the sound. It told her he’d confessed the worst and was ready to heal.
She wanted him healed.
She wanted him whole.
Promising herself she’d be part of this journey, she placed another kiss on his skin.
