His intentions were clear the minute his hand slid down to my thigh and tugged up the hem of my dress. “Luke,” I whispered, my eyes closing as his fingers rasped along my bare skin.
“Spent all night looking at you in this dress. Smelling your hair every time you turned your head. Battled your ex. If I don’t touch you, I might die.”
“That’s blackmail,” I murmured as his fingers traced my panty line.
“Sure is.” His tongue flicked at my ear lobe. “You going to just let me die? Perish? Don’t you care about me?”
I laughed, but the sound quickly rolled into a moan as he pushed aside the gusset of my panties and ran a finger through my wetness. I grabbed his wrist, with one hand, the other coming up to grip his hair as a bolt of heat surged through me. “Oh.”
“Barely touched you and you’re wet?” He breathed into my ear, his voice deeper than before. I could feel the hard length of him pressing into my back through his jeans.
“Your voice,” I gasped as his fingers continued to work me. “When it gets all…” I sucked in a breath. “Raspy.”
He slipped a finger inside of me just as the heel of his palm rubbed my clit, and I groaned, unable to stop myself from grinding into his hand. I couldn’t imagine how I looked, legs spread between his, his hand under my dress doing filthy things. “We probably shouldn’t do this here.”
“Probably not.” His kissed down my neck as a second finger joined the first inside of me. “You’re already close, aren’t you? I can feel it.”
Of course I was. His touch was magic. “Oh, God,” I whispered as I dug my nails into his wrist. Those fingers were twisting and turning and I was writhing against him, head thrown back, mouth open.
“I don’t even want to blink,” he said. “I don’t want to miss a split second of how you look right now. So slutty. You feel slutty, don’t you?”
“So slutty,” I gasped. “I love it.”
His other hand slid down my chest, under the neckline of my dress and bra to cup my breast. His thumb brushed my hard nipple and I jerked, my nerves electrified. He pulled down so my breast was exposed. I saw it, the hard, pink nipple, his calloused hand cupping it. Just the sight of how wanton I was in his arms, as his fingers worked their way in and out of me, was enough to send me over the edge. I felt the orgasm start in my stomach, and I cried out as it exploded up my spine, out to my limbs, and burst behind my eyes.
I rutted against his hand mindlessly, and he held me tightly, his mouth at my ear. “Fucking beautiful baby. Come on my hand just like that.”
I did, I came all over his hand and when I was finished, I slumped against him, my legs jelly, my body numb, and my brain cleared of everything but how good it felt to be touched by Luke Trainor.
His heart beat at a rapid pulse against my back, and his lips were at my neck, doing delicious things to my skin along with his tongue.
I’d never done anything like this. Tim was the only man I’d been with. Ever. He was a rule follower, and so was I, so making out under the stars in a closed park wasn’t something we would have ever done. I was almost thirty and hadn’t had sex with a man under the stars. That didn’t seem right.
I turned around and straddled Luke. Now that I got a good look at his face, I saw how affected he was—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, lips swollen from where he’d bitten them. He didn’t say anything, only watched as I lowered the back zipper of my dress, then slipped the straps off my arms. After shoving my dress down to my waist, I unhooked my bra and tossed it to the side. Luke’s eyes rounded, and his large hands slid up my back, pulling me toward him.
His lips opened, and I pitched forward, cupping the back of his head, as his mouth descended on my breasts.
My skin was a patchwork of live nerve endings. Everywhere he touched, I felt down to my core. As tongue scraped along my nipple, I gasped, gripping his hair tighter, as he sucked and laved at my sensitive skin. I was eager again, the heat rekindling in my belly and my core. My hips jerked against him, and I felt the hot, hard length of him through his jeans, rubbing along my damp panties.
“You gonna let me have you here in the bed of my truck?” He grasped my neck and forced me to make eye contact with him. He bucked his hips into me and I gasped. “I bet you want this bad, don’t you? You want to be fucked out here when you know you’re not supposed to.” His fingers once again found my clit, pressing against it through my panties. His lips moved against mine, his breath hot on my face. “Tell me you want it.”
I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing against those talented fingers again. I’d just came, and I was already primed to go another time. “Yes,” I breathed.
“Yes, what?”
I didn’t even give my hands the signal, but they were at his jeans, undoing the button and sliding down the zipper. I reached my hand inside and relished in his sharp inhale as I wrapped my hand around his cock. I stroked him once, in love with the way his eyelashes fluttered and his mouth dropped open on a silent moan. This was power, holding this man in my hands, reducing him to a puddle. “Yes,” I whispered at his ear as I continued to stroke him. “I want you to fuck me here.”
I pulled back to watch his nostrils flare, and his eyes ignite. He shoved his jeans down over his hips. His one hand was doing something at his back pocket, and I realized he was pulling out his wallet. He glanced down and a look of pure horror passed over his face. “Fuck! I forgot a condom.” He let his head fall back on the back window with an agonized groan. “Nooooo.”
I tugged the gusset of my panties aside, ignoring the snap as the elastic broke. I lifted up on my knees, positioned his cock at my entrance, and kept my gaze on his face as I sank down onto him.
His entire body seized as his head jerked up. A long, low moan left his hips. “Baby…”
“It’s okay,” I said, lowering back down until my ass met his thighs. “It’s good timing.”
He didn’t question my ability to time my cycle, especially because I was already rising back up. My head fell back as I squeezed around the delicious glide of his cock. I sensed the moment he went from surprise to into it. His wrapped one arm around my back, and slipped the other into my hair. My head was tugged down and then his tongue was in my mouth, licking into me, as his hips began to thrust up into me. I held on to his shoulders, committed to matching his rhythm, to giving as good as I was getting. His mouth was everywhere. My neck, my breasts, teeth scraping at my nipples.
The truck was rocking, my knees bumping across the hard floor and I didn’t care one bit. I gasped and cried out in Luke’s hair as I clutched him to my chest. My orgasm was close, and I sensed his was too as his thrusts became more frantic, his grip on my hair tightened. Just as my scalp protested, fireworks went off behind my eyes. I screamed, Luke called out my name, and we both came, as only the stars and the moon as our witnesses.
Afterward, Luke laid me down on a blanket, and covered me with another one. He retrieved some napkins from somewhere in his truck and cleaned me up. I couldn’t do much but let him attend to me. My knees hurt, my scalp was sore, but I couldn’t remember a time where I’d been happier. He laid down beside me on his back, hands clasped behind his head.
His bicep was hard beneath my head, and my hip was digging into the hard bottom of the truck bed beneath the blanket, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. I sighed and rolled into him, my hand on his chest. “Did you bring me out here with the intention of ravaging me?”
His bright grin spread across his face instantly. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I giggled. An actual giggle. “Devious.”
“Yes, but I also thought you’d like it.”
“Well you were right.”
“So I’m devious and a genius.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself now.”
He laughed softly. He unclasped his hands, and lowered the one to rub my back. I’d redressed because while it was a hot night, I didn’t want to get caught out here naked, God forbid.
We lay in sated silence. I thought maybe Luke had gone to sleep but every time I glanced at his eyes, they were open. His face was relaxed, more than I’d ever seen him.
“Thanks for what you did back there,” I said eventually, breaking the silence. “With Tim.”
His hand paused, then resumed rubbing me. “What did I do that you’re thanking me for?”
“Well first of all, I asked you not to threaten him and not to be violent.”
“I listened.”
“I know.” I patted his stomach. “And I guess, thanks for rendering him speechless.”
His rumble of laughter vibrated against my rib cage. “He really was, wasn’t he?”
“I think he expected you to get angry.”
“‘Course he did. And I was angry. I just don’t get angry the way he wanted me to be.”
I squinted up at him, but he was hard to read in only the light from the moon and stars. “You were?”
“Yeah, he was insulting you, and it pissed me off he was trying to get a rise out of me.”
“I’m worried he’ll retaliate.”
“Let him try.” His voice was short.
“Do you not want to talk about this?”
“No, I actually don’t want to lay here looking at this beautiful sky with you and talk about your piece of shit ex-husband.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry. I get it’s on your mind, but it’s done. He’s done. Now it's us, and we’re here and he’s not. So fuck him.”
I muffled my laugh in his sleeve. “Okay.”
He turned on his side, hand curling around my waist. His nose nudged my cheek and I turned my head so our lips brushed. “Okay,” he whispered back.
He didn’t press for more, only studied my face as I lifted my hand to stroke his stubbled jaw. “You seem like the kind of man who’d want a more exciting woman. Who wears a push-up bra and has tattoos and rides a motorcycle. Or someone glamorous who can get away with sharp eyeliner and red lipstick.”
In a second, I was on my back, my head cradled in one of his big hands. He loomed over me, backlit by the starry night sky, and this time there was no grin on his face. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him this serious. “I think I want to have this conversation one last time.”
I swallowed, my hands lingered tentatively at his waist. “Okay.”
“I’ve had exciting. I’ve had not exciting. I’ve had it all, and I think you know that. Since you’ve only had that waste of an ex of yours, you’re self-conscious. Right?”
I only nodded.
“Right, so I don’t have a type. I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to and I like who I like. I want you and I like you. It’s that simple.”
I dug my nails into his shoulders, needing to anchor myself in the moment so I could be sure this was real. “I-Okay.”
“Did you not hear me when I said I like who I am when I’m with you?”
“I heard you but I guess I don’t understand it.”
“I like how you look at me, how you talk to me. I like your…presence. Sounds fucking stupid and a year ago I wouldn’t have said anything like that, but it’s the truth. You’re like a purifier and the longer I’m around you, the more I feel like all the fucked up shit in me fades away. You’re one of a kind, Samantha. You’re like the light at the end of the tunnel I don’t deserve but I’m racing toward anyway.”
I ran my hands over his stubbled jaw, his full lips, as his eyes studied mine intensely. He meant it, all of it, and I wasn’t sure I deserved him either. Why me? What power did I have? “That’s a lot of pressure on me,” I said, shaking slightly beneath him. “What if I fuck up? I sure tried to make Tim a better person and look how that turned out.”
The backs of his hand brushed my cheek and his fingers slipped into my hair. “You just gotta be you.”
“And if I’m not enough?”
He sighed heavily and shook his head with a sad smile. “It’s my job to convince you that you are. You think I’m not worried about bringing you down? About polluting you?”
“You make me happy though.”
“So we make each other happy and it’s hard to explain why. Do we need to know why if we know the end result?”
“Guess not.”
He kissed me softly, his tongue sweeping out to gently lap at my lip. “Then let’s not worry about it, and instead enjoy being here together. Even if we’re not naked anymore.”
I laughed and then we lay there for another hour, watching the stars, listening to the chatter of squirrels, and not bothering to ask any more whys.
Ten
In the next few weeks, I learned one thing about Luke. He actually could cook a bit, but his repertoire was limited. His expertise consisted of burgers, grilled cheese, and omelets. That was about it. However, he wanted to learn. He didn’t show up at my house just to eat whatever I cooked. He helped me meal plan, he’d shop for me, and then he participated in the cooking of the meal.
Tonight was tuna noodle casserole—a recipe I’d perfected over time and was damn good with a homemade milk-based sauce with peas, onions, and mushrooms. I was hesitant to allow him control of the roux, but he insisted he wanted to make it. So he stood at the stove, whisk in hand, peering into the pan as the sauce thickened.
I was at the counter, slicing the mushrooms, when I felt eyes on me. I glanced up to see him watching me. “Do you need something?” I asked.
“Just like looking at you,” he grinned.
“Well how about you like looking at the sauce, because you need to get whisking.”
He made a face at me and turned back to the pan. Admittedly, I was distracted and had to concentrate that I didn’t cut myself. Like usual, he showered at my place after work to get rid of the smell of engine oil and car exhaust. So he wore only his jeans, longish hair damp and curling around his ears. I’d tried to make him wear an apron, but he’d turned up his nose.
So yeah, a shirtless, tattooed, muscled man was in my kitchen, making a roux for our dinner, and I was pretty sure this was heaven.
“How was work?” I asked.
“Same shit, different day.”
“Is that okay? Do you need… different shit? And keep whisking.”
He circled the whisk in the pan faster. “I had different shit every day for a long time. Overrated. Hey, this is bubbling now. Look good?”
I wiped my hands on a towel and walked over to peer into the pan. I wasn’t sure what smelled better, the sauce or Luke. “Yep, that’s finished. Go ahead and dump in the mushrooms. I’ll grab the peas out of the freezer.”
He did as I asked, and then I poured in about a cup of peas. He stirred the mixture. “I don’t think I ever used a bag of frozen peas for their intended purpose.”
I placed the rest of the bag back in the freezer. “What does that mean?”
“Their purpose. Which is to eat.”
“So what did you use them for?”
He pointed at his head. “Ice pack.”
I closed the freezer door and turned on a heel. “Excuse me?”
“You know, black eyes and shit. Frozen peas work great. They form to your face.”
“Are you trying to tell me you were an underground fighter?”
He laughed and motioned for me to hand him the cooked pasta—the last ingredient. “I was not an underground fighter but I had to defend myself with my fists a lot. See why I’m okay with the same shit, different day?” He held up a fist, and the sight of how easily he formed it, the perfect way his fingers curled in, sent a sliver of unease down my spine. “I’m okay with it because it doesn’t involve these or frozen peas. Now I get to eat them sitting across from your pretty face.” He barreled right along without skipping a beat. “So now I just put the pasta in?”
I recovered quickly. His past was his past. This was now. “Uh yeah, then we’ll pour everything into the pan, cover with cheese and bread crumbs and bake.”
“Oven preheated?”
I smi
led. “I’m not an amateur.”
He leaned into to kiss me, a smile on his face the entire time. “You’re sure not, Peaches.”
Later that night, I was half asleep when the muffled sound of a cell phone ringing roused me. Luke’s cell sat on the coffee table, the screen lit up with an incoming call.
“You need me to move so you can get that?” I mumbled against his thigh.
“Nah.” His voice was low, and I guessed he’d been almost asleep too. The baseball game was still playing on the TV. Bottom of the ninth.
The phone stopped ringing. Then a few seconds later started again.
Luke groaned, and I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. “Guess you better get it,” I said.
He stretched his arms over his head, mouth open in a yawn, before leaning forward and snatching his phone off the table. He frowned at the screen and then answered. “Yeah.”
I could hear a deep male voice on the other line say a few words. Luke went still. Deathly still. Eerily still. His expression went blank as he stared vacantly at the television. The voice on the other line continued to speak. I didn’t dare move, a little alarmed at Luke’s reaction to whoever had called him and whatever words that mystery person was saying.
When Luke spoke, he said five words in a voice I hadn’t heard him use. “I’ll take care of it.” He ended the call and tossed his phone on the coffee table with a clatter that startled me.
I waited. He didn’t speak. I waited some more, dread curling in my stomach like poison. Finally, I queried in a soft voice, “Luke?”
He jerked and closed his eyes, like that one word broke the layer of ice covering his depths. Pain streaked across his face like a slap, and he dropped his head between his shoulders, hands clasped behind his neck. He was a picture of a man defeated, and my heart beat a warning in my ears.
He still didn’t speak, and I took a chance, creeping closer to place a hand between his shoulder blades. I didn’t ask if everything was all right, because the answer was obvious. We sat like that until the game was over, until the sports analysts finished their predictions for the rest of the season, until the eleven o’clock news began to roll.
Heels (Boots Book 2) Page 8
