Going All Out

by Jeanie London

  She’d take belonging any day.

  Bree wasn’t Tally, who didn’t have trouble letting others overshadow her. Bree needed to remember. But it was so hard to think in Lucas’s arms, so hard to do anything but abandon herself to the moment. She kissed Lucas with an excitement that swelled from within, a feeling so pure and right that she suddenly couldn’t stop from laughing against his mouth, sharing his warm breaths, tasting the throaty laughter that tumbled from his lips in reply.

  “Let’s make love,” she breathed the words on a breath. “Tell me you brought protection.”

  Lucas tightened his arm around her waist, trapped her tightly against him as he reached behind him to a pile of clothing on the floor beside the spa.

  He’d obviously stripped, then jumped in, and when he produced his wallet from a pocket she said, “Thought of everything, did you?”

  He flashed her a roguish grin, and she laughed again, liking the way she felt, all breathless and edgy and excited.

  Rising up on her knees, she gave him room to take care of business, and he managed the task easily. Suddenly his gaze caught hers as he took aim, and she felt snared by the gentleness in his face as he pressed inside her.

  Slowly, steadily, he stretched and filled her until a low moan escaped, the sensation forcing the breath from her lungs and making her body dissolve around him.

  She half expected lightning to strike as he slid all the way home. There was just something so climactic about the way they came together, how perfectly their bodies fit.

  And Bree knew she wasn’t the only one feeling this way. Lucas’s expression softened in away she’d never seen before. He grew so still she didn’t think he was even breathing.

  Time seemed to stall as they poised there, bodies joined intimately, savoring the feel of coming together, of wanting and waiting and finally knowing that they hadn’t imagined the amazing way their bodies felt together.

  He raked his gaze over her face, his expression telling her things that needed no words, convincing her she wasn’t the only one feeling awed and humbled by their naked bodies joined in pleasure.

  His face hid nothing, and she liked that he shared himself so easily, felt encouraged to share back, not to hide that what she felt right now was so unexpected.

  She was the first to move.

  Spearing her fingers into his hair, she urged him to lean his head back until she could stare down into his face, memorize the wanting expression that softened every hard angle and plane.

  “Lucas,” she breathed his name and couldn’t have resisted kissing him if her life had depended on it.

  Their mouths came together as he arched upward, pressing inside her, starting up a hot beat that took over.

  Suddenly Bree knew nothing but the feel of him inside her, the touch of his hands on her body, the taste of his mouth as he kissed her with a bold possession.

  He rocked beneath her, pressed inside her. He slid his hands onto her hips, guided her pace, thrust into her with short driving strokes that caught her everywhere.

  It had never been this way before. Pleasure swelled inside, a rise of sensation so intense that she broke her mouth from his, so overcome that she couldn’t kiss him, couldn’t touch him, couldn’t do anything but bury her face in his neck while ecstasy mounted and crested in her.

  Her breath stalled. She knew only the feel of his rocking hips, the strong arms that held her, the pounding rhythm unraveling her in places untouched before him. She grew dizzy and urgent while meeting his powerful thrusts, heard herself sobbing his name as the first spasms broke.

  Lucas went with her, his mouth buried inside her hair, a low growl breaking from his lips as he clung to her as if he would never let go.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop rocking her hips to ride the crest, even when her strength began ebbing. Still, she couldn’t stop arching against him, unsure if she was going to pass out, stop breathing or die in his arms as the sound of his laughter rang out loud and strong over the bayou.

  8

  LUCAS DIDN’T KNOW WHAT the hell had just happened. He’d never had sex that felt anything like what he’d just done with Bree, an explosion of the senses that sapped every ounce of his strength. He could only hang on to this woman and savor the way she collapsed against him, how their hearts raced together in frantic time and how her sex clutched him in erratic bursts.

  The only thing Lucas knew right now was that he wasn’t letting her go. She’d been right. It had been simple. He wasn’t sure why, had no clue what was happening between them, but he knew without question he would hang around to find out.

  Lucas had never believed all the romantic stuff about soul mates that his sister bought into, but after these fireworks…well, maybe there was something to Josie’s way of thinking after all.

  He hadn’t realized anything had been missing in his life. He’d just known that he’d been burying himself deeper and deeper in work because life had started feeling stale. Bree had recognized that almost as soon as they’d met.

  He felt alive right now, eager to know everything about her, to understand why he felt so content in her arms.

  Stroking away the waves that wisped around her neck, he asked, “What are you thinking about right now?”

  “How much I like having sex with you,” she said with a dreaminess to her voice that made him smile.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, a sentimental gesture that should have felt too intimate but somehow felt like the thing to do.

  She sighed, which he thought was also the thing to do.

  They fell into silence again, a sated silence and a companionable one. He liked how easy it was to be around her.

  The sun had set while he’d made love to her, casting the courtyard into duskiness with only the sounds of the bubbling spa jets and the bayou—wind rustling through the oaks, the wildlife making its way home for the night.

  And an unfamiliar grumbling that took Lucas a moment to recognize.

  “You’re hungry,” he said, not a question.

  Pushing herself up, she heaved another sigh, as if moving required effort. “I forgot to eat today. By the time I woke up, I had to rush to get to the den.”

  She kneaded her stomach, and all her movement caused what was left of his erection to slide out.

  “Oops.” She laughed, and he winced as she scooted back on his lap, the water cold after her body heat. She squinted into the courtyard. “I think we might miss dinner. By the time we pull ourselves back together—”

  “No problem. I’ll cook. It’s the least I can do since you made all the arrangements.”

  She arched her eyebrow. “You cook, Lucas?”

  “I do. You eat?”

  “I do.”

  “Then we’re a match made in heaven. I checked out the kitchen when I got here and it’s stocked. I’m not sure with what. How picky are you?”

  Sinking onto her knees, she eyed him as though she was considering him for a meal. “Very picky.”

  He laughed. Then she slithered off his lap and rose from the waist-deep water like a vision from a dream. Water sluiced down her golden curves and dripped off her swaying breasts as she shimmied to the side and onto a seat.

  His mouth went dry at just the sight of her in motion, and for a man who’d just had sex that had made the lights go out, he probably shouldn’t have felt life signs so soon again.

  He did.

  “Okay, Mr. I-thought-of-everything, where are the towels?”

  He forced himself to move, leaning over the side to grab towels from the step behind him.

  When he felt her fingers caress his butt, Lucas knew he wasn’t the only one with sex still on the mind.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a great ass?” she asked.

  “Not in quite that way.”

  “Then let me be the first. You’ve got a great ass.” She skimmed her fingers inside his thigh, made his dick jump at her light touch. “Great other things, too.”

  He wasn
’t sure what to say to that, so he only passed her a towel. Drawing her legs up in front of her, she treated him to a show while drying off her feet. Then she maneuvered out of the spa in another of those fluid moves.

  He climbed out and dried off, wrapping a towel around his waist. When he turned back around, he found Bree eyeing him.

  “I’m having déjà vu here,” she said.

  “All we’re missing are some twigs in your hair.”

  “Tee hee.” Wrapping the towel around her, she cut off the spectacular view. “Come on. Let’s get moving on that food. I’ve worked up an appetite.”

  He reached out and threaded his fingers through hers, liking the feel of their clasped hands as they walked through the cottage to the kitchen.

  “When I peeked in this kitchen before, the only thing I noticed was the gorgeous woodwork on the cabinets,” Bree said. “I didn’t give one thought to what might be inside.”

  “Sounds like we’ve got all the bases covered between us.”

  “Got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “Not everything.”

  He had no answer to why he was reluctant to release her hand when they arrived at the fridge. He had no answer to why such a simple gesture had felt so right. They’d made love and had fireworks, but standing together felt more powerful than he imagined two people touching should have.

  “I don’t have an answer about why your friends thought we’d have to walk to the main house for meals.”

  “They’ve got a five-star chef on staff,” Bree said as if that explained their rationale.

  Perhaps it did, but Lucas would rather cook if it meant keeping his charming companion all to himself—and naked.

  Or close enough to naked to make him smile at the sight she made with her long bare legs as she leaned inside the fridge to inspect the contents.

  “Doesn’t look like we’ll ever have to leave,” she said.

  Be still his heart. “See anything that looks promising?”

  “Yeah, but what about you? Now that I know you like to cook, what do you like to eat?”

  “You.”

  “I walked right into that.”

  “You did.” He leaned beside her and peered inside. “Steak looks good.”

  “I was thinking of eggs.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Didn’t you ever have backward days? Tally and I used to all the time. Mark loved them.”

  “All right, I’ll bite. What’s a backward day?”

  She cast him a sidelong glance. “Pancakes and cereal for dinner. Pizza for breakfast.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “And omelets are fast, too.”

  “Perfect for a starving woman.” He grabbed the egg carton. “Bring me what you want in your omelet. You’ve got your own personal chef tonight.”

  “Who has a vested interest in making sure I get my energy back, hmm?”

  He caught her just as she stood and dragged her full against him. “You’re going to need a lot of energy tonight, Bree. Trust me.”

  She kissed him with laughter tumbling from her lips, and when they finally parted, she was hanging on to her towel. His own towel stuck out as though he had a tent pole underneath it.

  She headed back into the fridge, and within minutes the makings of a respectable omelet appeared on the counter. Portobello mushrooms were apparently a favorite, along with mozzarella cheese. Onions were a debate.

  “I love them cooked,” she said. “Do not eat them raw. Where are you on the issue?”

  “I’ll cook them.”

  She gave a satisfied smile and plunked the onion down on the counter. Then she was off again, tucking her towel tightly around her as she dug through the cabinets to set the table.

  Lucas got busy, too, locating a skillet and a cutting board, admiring Bree in his periphery as she decided they should eat on the veranda and ran in and out with her arms filled with utensils and plates.

  Backward day sounded like a way to entertain a younger brother. Mardi Gras parades. A twin sister and a pirate treasure. He didn’t know much more about this woman who made him react to her so intensely. No word about parents or any hints about her upbringing.

  She’d been keeping their conversations light, and he couldn’t decide if light meant she only thought of him as a lover who would be around for a week—which he basically was—or if she simply just didn’t share herself with many people. The fact that Josie didn’t know much about her either told him something.

  She finished setting the table about the time he got the mushrooms on the fire and had started on the cheese. Once in the kitchen, she propped herself against the counter and watched.

  “You weren’t kidding,” she said. “Look at you. Grating cheese. Spices. What are you doing with the mushrooms?”

  “Sautéing them.”

  Setting down the shredder, he pulled the skillet from the burner and crowded her up against the cabinets.

  “Lucas,” she laughed. “Dinner.”

  “Breakfast.” Grabbing her around the waist, he hoisted her onto the counter. “The chef needs inspiration.”

  She inspired him. Slipping her arms around his neck, she toyed with the hair at the back of his neck, an idle motion that assured him she liked touching him.

  He liked touching her, too, and couldn’t think of a better way to start bridging the distance between them. They had the whole night together. He would make the most of it.

  Grabbing the hem of her towel, he tugged it open.

  She didn’t shy away from her nakedness. She was all golden touchable skin and tempting curves, and he liked how comfortable she was with her body, liked that she shared herself with him.

  “I’ve wanted to see you like this since the night we met,” he admitted.

  “You want to use me for a plate?”

  “No. I was thinking more along the lines of motivation.”

  “Me sitting butt naked on the counter motivates you?”

  “You sitting butt naked on the counter turns me on. Touching you motivates me to turn you on.”

  “But you haven’t—”

  He brought her protest to a sharp stop by catching her nipple between a thumb and forefinger and giving it a squeeze. She exhaled a half gasp, half moan that made her expression melt. He watched the nuances of her reaction while tugging on that rosy peak. Her mouth pursed in a sexy moue. She arched her back to press into his touch.

  There was no resisting this woman in her wanting, so he indulged himself by handling her beautiful breasts until she leaned back on her hands and closed her eyes.

  “Like that?”

  “Mmm.” Her soft moan filled the quiet.

  Lucas leaned down to flick his tongue across her nipple, then turned his attention back to their meal.

  “That’s it?” She cracked one eye open and eyed him narrowly.

  He answered by slicing an onion half with solid strokes that echoed in the sudden silence.

  “You with that knife is almost scary.”

  He chuckled. “I’m hoping to impress you.”

  “You don’t really need the knife for that.”

  “No.” He used a knife to clear the onions into the skillet. Then he washed his hands and reached for his wineglass.

  She never flinched beneath his constant perusal, just sat boldly and proudly before him. Her body beautiful in its need. Back arched to taunt him with all her smooth curves. Her nipples flushed from his attention, tight peaks spearing upward, asking for more. The dreamy edges of her expression as she watched him bring the glass to his lips.

  Her hunger aroused him. A simple glance and she could make him want. And as he sampled the wine, swirling the mouthful over his tongue before swallowing, Lucas realized how much he enjoyed her wanting him, wanted to spike her hunger even more.

  He sipped the wine again, only this time he let the sweet liquid chill his mouth.

  She gasped when he braced his hands on her thighs. She let out a throaty laugh when he knel
t down before her and wedged his shoulders between her thighs.

  “So I’m dinner?” she asked.

  He swallowed, and without preamble he dragged his tongue through her heated desire.

  The first stroke of his mouth brought her up off the counter. Her thighs quivered. Warm, sleek skin enveloped his face, surrounded him in intoxicating sweetness.

  His own need spiked with her response, and he sought out the hard knot hidden inside her warm folds, teased it. She moaned and spread her thighs wider, inviting him to explore all her sweet places.

  Lucas obliged until he heard her breathing come raw and shallow, until her thighs quivered. Then with a final flick of his tongue, he backed away and stood up.

  “Don’t stop,” she said.

  “I thought you were hungry.”

  “I am. For you.”

  He had no clue such simple words could have such a potent effect.

  She was hot, wet. He watched her arch backward as he slid his finger in deep. She hid nothing of her passion. Her mouth parted on a sigh. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she clung to him and urged him on.

  Cupping his palm over her mound, he worked that hard knot as he slid his finger inside for another slow stroke. Her sex clenched tight, a trembling spasm that hinted of the climax building, and he couldn’t help but spear a hand into her hair, dragging her head back to taste her low moans on his mouth. He couldn’t keep his tongue from moving, from miming each stroke as she rocked her hips to knead her orgasm into breaking.

  When she climaxed, his name burst from her lips, a half laugh, half sob that sounded so sweet and made him wonder what he’d found with Bree.

  Whatever it was, Lucas knew it was special.

  HOW GABRIEL COULD ASSIST a romance when his stubborn descendent had run off with Lucas and did not return home was beyond him.

  Félicie Allée. Bah.

  He still didn’t know what to make of Breanne’s fondness for Lafever’s mansion. Coincidence or a divine joke? Gabriel was leaning toward the latter. Someone had a sense of humor in the afterlife, but he never got to laugh at the jokes as he was usually the butt of them.