“Karlie.”
I look up.
“Did you hear me?”
I can’t move.
“I love you.” He stands up. “Admit it: you love me, too.”
My hands shake, and I drop the envelope. I’ve dreamed of this moment, but I can’t say it. The pictures represent more than he knows—they’re symbolic of something greater than anything I’ve ever known. I’m his world now—it’s obvious; the photos and his pleading eyes say the same thing. “Please, I need some air.” I flee, desperate for space.
—
Not this time; Karlie is going to face her fears. I follow her outside. She’s standing on the patio, watching the sunset. “Why’d you run, darlin’?”
“Do you know what it’s like growing up without a mother or father?”
“No,” I answer quietly.
“It’s indescribable, but I carry a lot of pain around as a result. The first person who ever told me she loved me was Marie. Four years ago, when we were drunk.”
Her pain is my pain.
“I’m not like you, Lucas. I’m not even sure I deserve you.” She whirls around, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m twenty-one and still don’t have a place of my own to live. Everything I own fits in the back of my Tacoma. What does that tell you? I don’t belong anywhere.”
“You belong here, with me.” I take a step toward her.
“No.” She waves her hand. “You can’t kiss it away.”
“I can, and will.” I’m deaf to her protest. I clamp onto her hips with both hands, tugging her against my body. She’s lovely, and her tears make me want to love her more, harder and better. “Stay with me. Let me love you,” I whisper close to her ear.
I kiss her gently at first, silently begging for better access. She opens up to me slowly, her body quivering with raw emotion. She rests her palms against my chest, not to stop me, but to anchor herself. My heart splinters when our gazes lock; I’ve never seen her really cry before. Maybe with held-back tears, but this is completely different.
God damn Connor and the sorry excuse for human beings named Johnson. I’ll win her trust. My temper surfaces momentarily and I growl, lifting her into my arms. She’s so quiet. I carry her upstairs, then crawl into bed, cradling her on my lap. Tiny sobs escape her lips as I rock her back and forth, whispering in her ear.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Those pictures were my favorite moments, when you seemed the happiest, so carefree and radiant. When you smile, Karlie, I swear the world stands still. I wanted to share those moments with you, show you how inspiring you are.”
Time seems to stand still. And I’m not sure how long I hold her, but when she turns her face toward mine, wetting her lips, eyes wide and glassy, I know what she needs and wants. I need her too, all of her—the vulnerable and brave sides of Karlie are what make her unique.
“Make love to me, Lucas.”
We both collapse sideways on the mattress. She rolls onto her back, and I crawl over her, shielding her from the pain and darkness she fears and loathes. I unbutton her shirt, and once it’s open, my hand glides over her creamy skin. My fingers roam from one breast to the other, gently caressing. I kiss her hard nipples through her lace bra, swirling my tongue over them, relishing how sweet she tastes and feels. She moans, arching into me.
“Lucas…”
“I love you.” If she doesn’t believe it, I’ll show her.
She reaches up, pulling my T-shirt off. Then my hands are all over her again, cupping her breasts, skating down her stomach. She’s wearing shorts and we remove them together. I eye the lace barrier between us. She shimmies out of her panties and I can smell her arousal.
“Take your pants off.”
I do.
She pushes me onto my back, then positions herself between my legs. I lift my head so I can see her face, wondering what’s flashing through her mind, what she’s feeling. When she leans over and sucks me into her mouth, the world melts. She’s all I can think about, everything I need. I groan as my cock hits the back of her throat. Stroking my length as I glide in and out, she brings me to the edge, only to stop, then start again. She circles her tongue over the tip of my cock, then nips me, over and over until I’m dazed with pleasure.
“Does it feel good?” she asks.
“Like paradise.”
She smiles, tickling my balls and kissing the tip of my penis at the same time.
My turn.
Before she can think about it, I switch places with her, flipping her over. She stares up at me, desire sparking in her eyes. I lift her legs and she rests her ankles on my shoulders, my cock nestled at her entrance. I grind my hips slowly, refusing to rush this. I want to feel all of her. I dot kisses down her throat, then pay homage to her magnificent breasts. Her pink nipples are waiting for me to suck greedily on them. She tastes so fucking good.
Our rhythm intensifies, and she claws at my back every time I sink deep—so I do it again, welcoming the pain because it reminds me of how real she is. Her pain is my pain. Her pleasure is my pleasure. And now, I want her heart to be mine, too.
Chapter 22
I’m not sure she understands what love really is, especially between a man and a woman. All her life she’s been bounced from one loveless relationship to another. Never again; not while there’s breath left in my body. She shifts in my arms, gazing up at me. I hug her close, enjoying the weight of her body on top of mine.
“Are you ready to finish our conversation now?” I dip my head and find her parted lips, so lush and inviting. We share a long kiss before I give her a chance to answer.
“Which one?” she asks meekly.
“About my son.”
“Whatever you need me to do.”
“Alex is a good boy,” I assure her. “Curious and bright, loves the Dallas Cowboys and fried chicken.”
“Can’t find that in Minnesota.”
“No,” I agree, loving her even more for saying it. “He can’t.” I’m not sure what’s going to happen in the near future with my son, but I need to prepare. Having Karlie in my life—permanently—is one of the biggest parts of my plan. Meeting that stable environment standard that all judges seem to defer to as the deal-maker for custody cases is my other priority. “Do you like kids?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Very much.”
“Do you want children?”
She diverts her eyes, her breath heavy in my ear. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but it’s a legitimate question.
“Enough to man a football squad.”
I chuckle. Does she know an NFL team has fifty-three active players on their roster? “You might want to reconsider,” I joke. “There are eleven players on an offense and defense. Which do you prefer?”
She shoves upward and I get pinned by a pair of fiery sapphire eyes. “Do you want more kids?”
“God willing,” I say.
That answer seems to satisfy her and she gives me a hard peck on the lips before she rolls off me.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Taking a shower.”
I can’t take my eyes off her as she bounces across my bedroom. Our intimacy has changed her attitude. That’s what I need to see; it lets me know I’m getting inside her head and heart. I fold my hands behind my head, sucked into a fantasy world where Karlie and I are married—living that white-picket-fence dream. Everything men make fun of but want.
The sound of my shower turning on shakes me from my daydream. She didn’t say anything about wanting to bathe alone. I climb off the bed and pad into the bathroom. She’s humming a Gwen Stefani tune. After I open the shower curtain halfway, she drops the soap. Then she turns her ass my way, glimpses over her shoulder, and exaggeratedly bends over to retrieve it.
Lust pumps through me, my veins on fucking fire. “You shouldn’t have done that.” I climb in, uninvited. I grip her hips, my groin crashing into her bottom. “Mine,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Prove it
.”
She spreads her arms above her head, her nails digging into the tile as I pound into her. I cover her tiny hands with mine and our fingers lace together. Fuck. My head is reeling with love and possession. Mine. I hit her again, and she screams. Bang. My hips spiral mercilessly, then it’s short, rapid strokes. She’s panting, our slick, wet bodies sliding all over the place. Bang. Deep penetration this time—the kind that steals my goddamned breath, maybe even my soul. I throb inside her, knowing we’re both about to succumb to the pleasure.
—
“He asked what?” Marie stops at the entrance to Party City and stares at me.
“I didn’t mince words, Marie.” She heard me. “If I want children.” She opens the glass door and I step inside the store.
“Maybe we’ll have a double wedding.”
I wish she’d quit making such a fuss over Lucas. We’re dating and just happen to share the same living space. I don’t sleep in the same bed with him every night. I still have my own life. We don’t discuss finances or politics. “Getting way ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “He loves you, Karlie. Isn’t that reason enough to suspect he might want to take your relationship to the next level?”
“Can we look at costumes?” End of the conversation for now. I refuse to make any connection between Lucas’s declaration of love and marriage. I’m in no position to contemplate anything long term.
We stroll down a few aisles, looking at masks and miscellaneous Halloween items. I spot a pair of pink satin opera gloves that remind me of Marilyn Monroe. I casually pick them up, checking the price tag: thirty dollars. I roll my eyes and return them to the shelf.
“Wait,” Marie says, retrieving them. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Damn it, we’re like twins sometimes. “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” we say together.
She giggles. “Wigs are on aisle six. And I bet we can find a pink evening gown at Macy’s.”
Because Marie is obsessed with everything Disney, the evil queen costume, reminiscent of Maleficent, satisfies her taste. A few minutes later we check out and head to her car.
“Brandon isn’t going to like that costume,” I warn her. “That miniskirt covers less than a bikini bottom.”
“I have great legs.”
Where does she get that confidence from? Her mother is hot—the answer should be obvious. We drive across SPID and park outside Macy’s in La Palmera mall. She drags me to formal wear and the hunt begins. We meticulously search for the right shade of pink. And like magic, forty-five minutes later, Marie rushes over with a very pink dress draped over her arms.
“Found it.”
“Where?” I run my fingers over the satiny material.
“Does it matter? Go try it on.”
This time, I stare in the mirror as I step into the gown. I struggle with the side zipper, sucking in a breath to get it to close all the way. The end result? I want to take it off. It fits like a second skin—a ridiculously feminine, Lucas-is-going-to-rip-it-off-my-body kind of dress. I love it. As I start to unzip it, Marie opens the fitting room door.
“Oh. My. God.”
“I can’t.”
“You will.” She shows me several clear, glass bead necklaces she must have picked out while I was changing. “Not diamonds, but I think they’ll work.”
I shake my head and gaze in the full-length mirror again. The gown leaves little to the imagination: the stiff, strapless bodice is so tight that my breasts are practically lifted to my neck. Marie steps behind me and hooks one of the necklaces around my neck. Just as she suggested, the glass beads and rhinestones sparkle like diamonds. Combined with the gloves and curly, blond wig I purchased, no one will doubt who I’m dressed as.
“You deserve a night of fun.” She smiles. “And if Lucas doesn’t agree, tell him to call me.”
“Two hundred dollars is more than a night of fun for me,” I complain about the price of the dress.
“Get over it,” she counters. “Pull out the checkbook and enjoy it. Charles will.” She jabs me in the side with her elbow.
Charles. I always forget he’s a frat brother and one of the hosts for the party. We’re just friends. After all, he met Lucas in uniform and hasn’t flirted with me since. “I’m sure he’ll have a couple of cheerleaders hanging off his arms.”
“Until he gets an eyeful of Marilyn.”
My gaze returns to my cleavage. I groan. Breast reduction surgery never appealed to me until now. “All right.” I give in because she’s right—I want to have fun. It’s been a terrible month for me, dealing with Connor and attempting to get my life back. “Just this once,” I say, slipping out of the gown and hanging it back up. Once I’m dressed again, we head to the cash register.
We grab Orange Juliuses before we leave the mall, dodging crazy drivers that forget to yield to pedestrians in the crosswalks. The temperature has dropped considerably; a cold front blew in a few hours ago. I shiver as we reach her car. There’s a white envelope tucked underneath the passenger-side windshield wiper blade.
“Probably from Brandon,” Marie says, swiping it off her vehicle. She opens it, pulling out a piece of paper. “Not for me.” She offers the note.
Ms. Karlie Augustine,
We need to talk. I’ve tried to approach you before, but you’re never alone. Please don’t be alarmed if I reach out again.
Sincerely,
S.
“Sexy or creepy,” Marie says. “Take your pick.”
My gaze zigzags around the jammed parking lot. Someone is following us—me. Should I remain vigilant or blow it off? Probably some pervert from school playing a joke. I crumple the note into a ball, stashing it in my purse. “Forget it.”
“Sure that’s a good idea?” She unlocks our doors.
I climb in. “Remember that guy who ran around campus a couple of years ago leaving photos of his penis on girls’ cars?”
She nods.
“Turned out to be a hazing prank.”
“That was on campus,” she reminds me.
“If I show this to Lucas, he’ll put me on lockdown.”
“Probably.” She starts the engine. “What about Connor?”
“Not his handwriting.” I consider it further. “But he could get anyone to write a note.”
We hit South Padre Island Drive right before rush hour and make it to my house in twenty minutes.
“Staying for dinner?” I ask.
She checks her watch. “Nope, hot date with Brandon.”
I grab my bags from the backseat. “See you tomorrow.” I blow kisses at her and go inside.
Lucas’s house phone rings when I get to the kitchen. I pick up. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Anybody there?”
The line goes dead. I hang up and look inside the fridge. My foster mother used to make a quick dinner with franks and beans. I sauté chopped onion in butter, then add sliced hot dogs, beans, pepper, spicy mustard, and brown sugar. I let it simmer for five minutes, then transfer the mixture to a casserole dish and place it in the oven for half an hour. There’s a package of croissants in the pantry and I warm those in the oven. Add a couple of beers and we have the perfect Lucas meal.
Like clockwork, he rolls in by six, kisses me, then heads upstairs to change his clothes and joins me back at the table. He eyes his plate and laughs. “What’s this?”
“Hot dogs and beans.”
He shovels a forkful into his mouth, clearly delighted. “Once again, you’ve transformed slop into something wonderful.” He takes a sip of beer. “I have some bad news.”
I huff in frustration, prepared to hear something about his son.
“Half the department is working overtime Halloween night.”
“No party?” I’m disappointed.
“No. But I want you to have fun still—go with Marie.”
I circle the mouth of my beer bottle with my pinkie. “You don’t mind if I dance?”
<
br /> He smiles. “As long as you don’t get dipped and kissed.”
“Maybe you’ll get off in time to stop by.” I hope he does; I want to introduce him to everyone.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter 23
Pissed I can’t attend the Halloween party with Karlie, at least I managed to get a split shift, so I’m home until seven, happy to see her before she leaves. Marie is in her bedroom helping her get dressed. After getting an eyeful of Marie’s body in her evil queen costume, I’m worried Karlie chose something as provocative. But I won’t say anything; she’s entitled to wear whatever she wants.
Until the door opens.
Reclined on the couch watching the local news, I catch a flash of pink. I grab the remote and press mute. My gaze roves lustfully up Karlie’s body. From the thigh-high slit in the front of her gown to the blond curls topping her head, I don’t know where to focus. She’s gorgeous. And just when I think I’ve seen everything, I spot the tiny mole on her left cheek.
Marie laughs. “Better close that mouth or something is going to fly in.”
I run my fingers through my hair, scooting to the edge of my seat. “Not what I was expecting.”
“Do you like it?” Karlie seeks my approval.
How is an overly protective, insanely jealous, lucky-to-have-a-girlfriend-as-hot-as-I-do man supposed to honestly answer that question? “If you were locked in my bedroom.”
“See…” Karlie turns to Marie. “It’s too revealing.”
“No-no,” I say, not wanting to ruin the moment. I adjust myself and stand, hard as a rock already. “I’m speechless, baby. You’re beautiful.” For the first time since I met her, Karlie accepts my compliment. But she chews on her lower lip, suggesting she’s unsure. “Follow me upstairs?”
She nods. “I’ll be right back, Marie.”
Loving Lucas Page 15
