by Macy Beckett
Bracing herself in front of the mirror, June wondered what had possessed her to think she could teach Luke to love. What an idiot she’d been! There was no textbook, no lesson plan to instruct one human to give his heart to another. There was no way this could work. A hollow ache opened so deeply inside her, June imagined she could throw a pebble into her chest and hear it echo for days. Other people fell in and out of love as easily as they changed lanes on the interstate. Why couldn’t she be like that? Why couldn’t she purge Luke from her system? One plump tear rolled down her cheek, and she scrubbed it away with her fist.
The slow, careful creak of Luke’s boots against the hardwood stairs approached, and seconds later, he pushed the bathroom door open. June stared straight into the mirror and watched him settle behind her. For the longest time, he stood in silence, studying her reflection. And then, lighter than a quail’s breath, he rested one hand along the curve of her waist. It was the first time he’d touched her in nearly a week, and June’s body warmed at the contact against her will.
“I never cared for her,” Luke said softly. “It was a green card marriage, and I never cared for her one single minute.” His eyes blazed beneath a fringe of dark lashes as he held her gaze in the mirror. The hole inside June’s chest began to fill. Luke had never loved his wife. He hadn’t given himself to another woman, not in any way that mattered. The words were so glorious, June was almost afraid to believe them.
She noticed Luke hesitate and then bring his fingers against her cheek to stroke her skin with all the tenderness of a devoted lover. “I never touched her face like this,” he whispered, and then he closed the distance so his firm body pressed against her from behind. “I never stroked her hair.” Brushing her curls to the side, he slid one more smoldering gaze into the mirror, while lowering his mouth to the top of her shoulder. June closed her eyes and leaned back into his warmth, tipping her head to the side and gasping with pleasure when he bit down. There was no hollow inside her chest now. Heat poured through her; Luke pulsed through her veins until she overflowed with his scent, his touch.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded, and she obeyed just in time to watch Luke graze one hot palm over her breast. She felt a tug between her thighs and took his hand to guide it beneath her shirt. When his fingertips found her nipple and rolled it to a tight point, she whimpered and let an obscenity slip off her tongue. She couldn’t care less. Even vulgarity was beautiful from within his arms. How was it possible to feel so full when just seconds ago, she’d felt completely vacant?
Luke studied her reflection through heavily lidded eyes. “I’ve missed your filthy mouth.”
So she gave him what he’d missed, turning her face, arching her neck, and grasping a handful of his hair to pull his mouth to hers. The gentle, tentative exploration of their last kiss was gone, replaced by ravenous greed. Something in Luke shifted, and he consumed her like a man who’d eaten, but never truly tasted until that moment. With mindless intensity, he fed from her lips—captured them, nipped them, suckled them—until June broke away, gasping for breath. Then, without hesitation, his mouth was at her ear.
“God, Junebug,” he whispered, pulling her back against his firm arousal. When she ground her bottom against him, he released a groan from deep in his throat and hissed her name again. June reached between them and stroked the bulging shaft through his jeans, delighting in the sounds Luke made, the frenzy she worked him into.
Holding her gaze again, Luke trailed one hand down her belly, until it disappeared beneath the loose waistband of her shorts. He halted, asking a silent question that June answered with an arch of her hips, and then his fingers slipped below the thin fabric of her panties.
Parting her sensitive folds, he slid one finger deep inside to gather lubrication before spreading it over her aching pleasure center in whisper-light, teasing circles. He knew just how to touch her, how to bring a moan to her lips, and make her beg with each desperate roll of her hips.
Together, they watched his forearm muscles tighten and bunch, while his fingers moved below the material, stroking her slippery flesh, dipping inside, stretching her in an agonizingly slow rhythm that had her panting for air and swelling with need.
“You feel so good,” he whispered against her temple. “So fucking hot. So wet. Did I make you this wet?” His teeth grazed her earlobe, but he never took his eyes off her reflection. “Hmm?”
“Yes, you. Only you.”
“Only me? Then I want you to come for me.” He pumped his fingers faster. Harder. So deeply it brought her to her tiptoes. “Right here, so I can watch.”
Tipping her head forward, June moaned his name and grasped the countertop with both hands. Her knees turned soft, and the aching pleasure drained her strength with each new stroke.
“Stand up.” Luke wrapped one powerful arm around her in support. “Look at what I’m doing to you. Look at how beautiful you are.”
Allowing her eyelids to flutter open, June leaned back into his chest and took in all the sensations: Luke’s hot breaths quickening against her ear, his scent filling her nostrils, his erotic gaze burning into hers through the mirror, the feel of his iron shaft grinding against her bottom in time with his gifted, pistoning fingers. Each sensation built on the others, multiplying in intensity, until she cried out his name and felt the first wave of ecstasy pulse through her core. His fingers never slowed, never relented, sending her headlong into a sensual chain of spasms that brought a soft cry to her lips.
Before she had a chance to come back down, Luke spun her around to face him and lifted her onto the countertop. Though her limbs were frail and trembling, she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling instantly aroused again when his erection pressed against her slick center.
“I want you, Luke,” she said in a breathy voice that didn’t sound like her own. “Make love to me.” She wanted to feel Luke’s weight, feel his skin inside and out, to be completely enveloped by him.
He shook his head and gave a ragged gasp. “We can’t.” But even as he refused, he brought his lips back to hers for a nearly savage kiss, claiming her mouth while he tugged her thighs forward and rocked between them, sending another throbbing wave of pleasure washing over her.
“Oh, god,” she moaned. “Please.”
“I’m out of condoms.”
“We don’t need one. I’m on—”
“Yes, we do.” He moved his hips in slow circles, and June sent half a dozen expletives into the air. “You like that?” he whispered against her lips.
“Yes.”
“Tell me how much.”
June wanted to tell him, but all she could manage was a string of incoherent four-letter words, so she grabbed his backside and pulled him harder against her, while she arched in wild response.
“God damn,” Luke whispered, clenching his eyes shut. He increased the tempo, gyrating in frantic circles while she clutched his jeans and matched his every thrust. They moved together greedily, breathing in urgent gasps, clinging to one another and stealing clumsy kisses during their untamed drive for release.
With one last, deep undulation, June convulsed in an explosive orgasm, crying out against Luke’s shoulder, as merciless ripples of jagged pleasure rocked through her. Running her hands over Luke’s broad back, she felt his muscles clench and stiffen, and a deep, low groan signaled his own climax. “Oh god, June,” he whispered in a ragged breath. And then after a long, shuddering sigh, “Ho-o-ly shit.”
For a long minute, they held each other, stroking skin, softly kissing any place their lips met, loving without words. June buried her face in his chest, savoring his warmth, his scent, the feeling of complete contentment and safety within his powerful arms. Knowing it couldn’t last forever, she took a handful of his shirt and pulled him closer. It wasn’t close enough—it would never be close enough. Then he laughed softly against her temple.
“What?” she said tentatively, afraid to break the spell.
Luke pulled back and smoothed the hair away
from her face. There was humor in his eyes, a pure happiness she hadn’t seen in years. “Junebug, I haven’t come in my pants since I was fifteen and Lori Marsh wouldn’t stop freak dancing on me.”
Giggling, June hooked her thumbs through his belt loops. “I heard she’s a stripper now.”
“Oh, yeah? Not surprising. I swear to God it was no accident—she knew what she was doing. After that, the rest of the night was uncomfortable as hell. Sticky and cold.” He shuddered at the memory.
“Sorry.” She nodded toward his pants. “But we don’t need condoms. I’m on the Pill.”
“Unh-uh.” Luke shook his head and placed a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. “There’s no such thing as too much protection.”
June had a feeling he was talking about more than just birth control and STDs.
“Why don’t you meet me downstairs?” he said, detangling himself from her limbs. “I need to change.”
Ten minutes later, he descended the stairs, while looking at the railing, his boots, the spindles, anywhere but at her. Lips that had just made love to her mouth now formed a cold, hard line. The magic was gone, his shields up once again.
Once, when June was ten, Luke had accidentally launched a kick ball right into her midsection at close range. It had seemed to take five minutes before she could breathe again. June felt that way now. She hadn’t seen this coming, and as much as she tried to conceal the effects of the blow, her cheeks sagged, and her jaw slackened. She felt the sick tingles along the backs of her thighs that always warned her when trouble was coming.
“Listen,” he said, running a hand through his hair while studying her sneakers. “What we just did upstairs…that can’t happen again.” Finally, he locked eyes with her, which made his message even more devastating. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still no good for you.”
“We can make it good.” June hadn’t meant to say it. She’d intended to salvage her self-respect and remind Luke that he’d sought her out and initiated everything. The last thing June wanted to do was plead for something Luke wasn’t ready to give, but the words fell off her tongue of their own volition.
Shaking his head a little too firmly, as if trying to convince them both, he said, “I shouldn’t have led you on like that. It won’t happen again.”
“Sure it won’t.” Scraping some of her pride off the floor, June rolled her eyes and folded her arms beneath her breasts.
“I mean it.” But Luke’s head still shook back and forth. The war raging inside his mind wasn’t a private battle—his inner conflict was obvious. Why did he have to fight her so hard?
“You know what?” June’s fists clenched as hurt suddenly gave way to anger. She’d committed herself to teaching Luke to love, but that didn’t mean she had to play nice. Maybe he needed tough love. “You’re right. It won’t happen again. You’re an emotional coward, Luke—so afraid I’ll let you down that you won’t try getting close. But you don’t hesitate to let me down. You’ll throw me right under the bus, if it spares you some pain. You’re completely spineless.”
He blinked a few times, clearly not expecting the tirade. “What the—”
“Spineless as the jellyfish in my tanks. And you won’t lay a hand on me until you grow some stones and go all in.”
“Fine.” Hands on his hips, Luke clenched his jaw and gave a curt nod. “Then you probably won’t be coming around here anymore. I’m okay with that.”
“Oh, no. I told you I wasn’t leaving. I’m in your life for good, even when I go back to Austin. But you won’t share my bed until you grow a backbone.”
And then June found her own backbone and marched right past him up the stairs to finish caulking the bathroom sink. It would be a cold day in Hades before she shed another tear for Luke Gallagher.
Chapter 16
“She called you a jellyfish?” Trey swung his disgusting, friggin’ half-rotted cast forward and then leaned on his cane to hobble into Jenkins’s kitchen. Luke wondered how much longer until that nasty thing came off. It was starting to smell, tainting the lemony scent of a freshly mopped floor with the reek of trapped sweat. “Was it the end of the day?” Trey asked. “’Cause she’s pretty cranky by then, especially if it’s hot.”
“Emotional coward. And no, it was lunchtime.” Pointing to a misaligned drawer, Luke added, “Have Pauly check the track on that one.” The day had come for the final walk-through on the Jenkins home, and Luke couldn’t stop thinking about June long enough to focus on his checklist. She had his mind so twisted he’d driven ten miles in the wrong direction that morning before he remembered where he was supposed to be. “Everything pass inspection?”
“Yep.” Patting himself down, Trey searched for the paperwork and came up empty-handed. “Karl probably has it.”
“Creepy Karl?” Luke tossed his clipboard onto the kitchen table, where it landed with a loud thud. “He’s probably smoked it by now.” Damn it, driving in circles, falling behind on the Hallover property, and now misplacing paperwork. His personal life was making him sloppy, something he couldn’t afford to let happen, not if he stood a chance of finally getting his family’s land back.
“You’re not gonna believe this,” Trey said, lowering himself into a wooden chair, “but Karl’s a halfway decent assistant. Keeps all the papers and receipts in this little plastic file box better organized than I ever did.”
“Huh, no shit?” Maybe they’d found a use for him after all.
As if they’d called for him, Karl waddled in with the inspector’s report folded neatly in his hand. “Hey, boss man. Where’s mamacita?” With one hairy hand, he stroked his round, even hairier belly and thrust his pelvis into the empty air. “She done blown my mind, and I ain’t wantin’ it back!”
“You jackass.” Luke snatched the report and pointed it at the back door. “Jenkins’ll be here in a minute. Put a shirt on, and get back outside to make sure there’s no trash on the lawn. I want this property cleaner than a hound’s tooth.” Decent assistant or not, that man was a canker sore.
“Okaly-dokaly, boss man.” Smiling like he’d just finished a cold beer, Karl strode out the door.
Trey chuckled from his chair and shoved a ballpoint pen down the top of his cast. “This thing’s itchy as hell,” he said, scrubbing at his skin.
“Jesus, remind me not to borrow that pen.”
Ignoring him, Trey kept scratching and asked, “So, what’d you do to piss off Jooonbug?”
“You automatically assume I did something wrong.” But before Luke objected any further, he waved a dismissive hand and owned up to his mistake. “Yeah, okay. I screwed up. We had a fight, and when I went to apologize, I kissed her, and things went a little too far.”
“How too far?”
“None of your business.” Deciding to fix the faulty drawer himself, Luke pulled it out and lifted it from the track. “Anyway, I told her it couldn’t happen again, and she accused me of being emotionally spineless. Said I’d let her down, thrown her under the bus.”
“Ouch.” Abandoning the pen, Trey reached for a toilet auger. “You think she’s right?”
“I swear to God, if you put that thing down your cast…” Luke cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean? Of course she’s not right. You think I’m a pansy or somethin’?”
Holding his palm forward like a peace officer, Trey shook his head and—thank God—threw the auger back in his toolbox. “I didn’t say that. But think about it. How long have I known you?” Trey thought for a moment. “Nine years? And in all that time, you’ve never had a steady girl, unless you count the ever-faithful Frau Gallagher.”
“I don’t!”
“Okay, fine. And you don’t date. I mean, have you ever slept with the same woman twice?”
Annoyed, Luke shrugged a shoulder and wished he’d never told Trey about the argument in the first place. He could see where this was going. Feeling along the metal drawer track, he tried to identify the problem, but couldn’t concentrate longer than two seconds befo
re his mind wandered back to June, particularly to the way she’d looked when he’d made her come. His heart raced just thinking about her flushed cheeks and how she’d moaned his name.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Pausing a moment to rifle through his toolbox, Trey sighed and then added, “Don’t you think that’s weird? Maybe June has a point.” His face lit up when he found a heavy, metal tape measure, and as Trey extended the tip two feet into the foul plaster depths, Luke thought about what he’d said.
Avoiding relationships had saved him a lot of time, which he’d used to build a business and accumulate enough capital to buy the Gallagher land. And by refusing to date local women, he’d saved himself all the awkward headaches that came with a messy breakup. That didn’t make him a coward, just practical.
“Either way,” Trey said, appearing satisfied and retracting the tape, “you need to figure out what you want. Fish or cut bait, buddy. Do you love her?”
The word no was on the tip of Luke’s tongue, but it slid backward and lodged inside his throat.
“I’ve seen the way you look at each other,” Trey said with a smug grin. “And didn’t you drive to Shooters at closing time a few nights ago to make sure—”
“We grew up together.” Luke tightened a screw to adjust the left track. “I care about her.”
“I was in love once.” Trey leaned back and heaved a sigh. “Mindy Roberts. Couldn’t stop thinking about her for five minutes. Damn near drove me insane. But that’s not how I knew it was love—just thinking about a woman could mean anything.”
“How’d you know?”
“She was the only girl I’d ever pictured having a family with. I could almost see our kids running around in the backyard. And the sex wasn’t just sex; it was more. Like I lost part of myself every time. It’s hard to explain. And scary as the devil on steroids.”
Sliding the drawer back in place and testing it out, Luke wondered why he’d never heard about Mindy Roberts before. Probably for the same reason he’d never mentioned June to Trey. Some things were private. Or too painful to mention aloud. “So what happened?” he asked.
