by A. C. Arthur
“I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “But you also have to be realistic. She may never get clean. She may never be any better to you than she has been. What are you going to do if that’s true?”
Lyra shrugged. “She’ll still be my mother.”
He leaned down and kissed her temple. “You’re a good kid, Lyra.”
She laughed at the way he’d said it, and his choice of words. His tone had been light, almost teasing, and that was so she would relax even more. He knew how uptight and angry her mother could make her, knew how hard she struggled with the guilt and the pain. And he knew exactly what to do and say to her to make it better. That’s why she’d come here to him.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’d been different. Maybe if she hadn’t had me her life would have been different.”
“Having you was the best thing Paula ever did. I believe you’re the reason she’s still alive, Lyra. She’s been sick for a very long time, but she always turns up wherever you are. You are her life, even though it seems like the drugs are.”
All Lyra had ever wanted to be was important to her mother. She’d wanted to be a big enough part of her life that she’d walk away from the drugs and her street life to be with her. But that hadn’t happened. So Lyra was left to struggle with feeling unwanted and alone. Well, not alone. She’d had the Donovans.
“You’re so lucky. You have a great family. A great job. Your life is perfect.”
“I beg to differ,” Dion said with another chuckle. His hands moved to the nape of her neck and kneaded.
Lyra moaned and let her head loll back.
“Your parents are wonderful.”
“My mother can be overbearing and my dad’s the toughest boss you’d ever imagine.”
“You have all the money you ever need. And then some.”
“And that makes me a magnet for gold diggers and scammers across the nation.”
“All the women want you.”
“All of them except the one I want.”
Lyra froze. Suddenly the good feeling of the massage had changed.
“You can have any woman in the world,” she said, but wasn’t really sure why. Maybe she wanted him to clarify his statement. No. She didn’t. Maybe she just wanted… Lyra didn’t know what the hell she wanted at this moment. The room was just too damned hot.
One hand left the nape of her neck, sliding around to whisper over her collarbone, upward to trace the line of her jaw.
“The woman I want doesn’t want me.”
“Oh” was her only reply after swallowing again.
She sat up, attempting to move out of his grasp, but he wasn’t letting that happen. He buried his other hand in her hair, turning her head so she could face him.
“I want you, Lyra.”
Oh, God, this was such a huge mistake. She shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have sat on his couch and poured her heart out to him. No, what she really shouldn’t have done was let him touch her. Dammit, she didn’t want him to stop touching her.
“Dion,” she whispered.
“Shhh,” he said, moving closer until his lips were just a breath away from hers. “Tell me you want me, Lyra. Just this once, I need to hear you say it.”
Instead she said his name again. He shook his head.
“Tell me you want me.”
Lyra closed her eyes tried to visualize Mark’s face, but drew a blank. She tried to pull up a shred of guilt for being here with another man. That failed, too. Clenching her fists at her sides she begged for something, anything to save her. But all she was faced with was the truth.
Opening her eyes she looked into Dion’s, so familiar, so honest. Denial would not come. She licked her lips and prayed this wouldn’t be the beginning of the end for them.
“I want you, Dion.”
Chapter 12
Dion had a favorite song. A favorite poem. Hell, he had a favorite ring tone on his phone. But none of them compared to the sound of Lyra’s voice saying she wanted him. For the rest of his life those words, that tone, would be emblazoned on his memory. His chest heaved as it seemed like he’d waited forever to hear her admit she wanted him.
Right now, however, his lips were on hers, his tongue stroking sensually over hers, his body humming with the anticipation of pleasure. On their own direction Dion’s hands moved down her shoulders and back up again.
He’d wanted her, wanted this moment for so long. All his reservations from years ago were washed away. It didn’t matter that she’d grown up as his sister. The fact was, she wasn’t his sister. She was a vital woman, with beautiful eyes and a fighting spirit. She was an excellent photographer and a loyal friend. What Lyra was, to Dion, was everything he’d ever imagined finding in a real woman.
All the glitz and glamour of the women he met meant nothing compared to her.
She kissed him with the same hunger, as if she’d been dreaming of this moment, as well. Tearing his mouth away from hers, Dion hated to end their contact but needed to hear that they were in the same place, had been for some time.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, Lyra,” he whispered into her ear.
Her response was a deep sigh as she pressed her lithe body closer to his. “I know. I’ve wanted the same thing.”
His fingers gripped her harder, his lips finding hers again, taking her mouth in a ferocious sweep of tongues. Pressing her back into the chair, Dion didn’t hesitate to slide on top of her. He couldn’t go slow, as much as he wanted to, thought he should, he just couldn’t.
“Wait,” she said when he’d lifted one of her legs, tucking it around him so that he was cradled between her thighs.
Through the fog of desire Dion heard her probably the second or third time she spoke and her small hands pressed against his chest. Pulling back he looked down at her. “Sorry, am I hurting you?”
She shook her head. “I think we should talk about this first. I mean, there’s Mark. And…and whoever you’re seeing this month. We need to think about them.”
Another thing about Lyra, she was practical and conscientious, sometimes to a fault. This time, however, Dion thought as he shifted off her, she was right.
When he was sitting up next to her, he took her hand in his. “When I wrote to you that I broke things off with Katrina, that was two months ago. I haven’t been with another woman since.”
She looked surprised.
“You know I wouldn’t lie to you, Lyra.”
“I know,” she said with a tentative smile. “Even though Mark and I are now engaged, I haven’t slept with him in months.”
“Months?” he questioned.
“Six and a half to be exact. To tell the truth I think that may have been why he finally popped the question.” Now she chuckled nervously. “Maybe he thought I’d give him some if he did.”
“And you didn’t?” Dion was much more sober about this than she seemed to be. He suspected because her admission was saying something about her relationship with the man she planned to marry.
“No. I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t” was all she said, and Dion figured it was better not to push this issue right now. Still, there was something he had to know.
“Are you going to marry him, Lyra?”
“Honestly?”
“We’ve never been any other way with each other.”
“I just don’t know. Ask me if I love him, if I’m in love with him. The answer is no. Ask me if I can see myself with him forever. No again. So you’d think the question of if I’m going to marry him or not would be simple.”
Dion touched his fingers to her chin, turned her to face him. “I think you know the answer, you’re just too nice to hurt his feelings.”
“I’ve never wanted anyone the way
I’ve wanted you,” she admitted looking him directly in the eye.
“Me, either,” he added and in that moment nothing or no one else mattered. It was as it should be, him and Lyra, finally.
* * *
The walk to Dion’s bedroom seemed long but Lyra knew it had only taken a few seconds. He’d switched off the lights in the living room and hallway as they went and headed straight for his nightstand to touch the lamp there until a dim golden light illuminated his king-size bed.
Lyra gasped the moment the light illuminated the room and her gaze rested on the frame beside the lamp. She walked slowly to the nightstand and picked up the picture. “I can’t believe you kept this,” she said, emotion clogging her throat.
“It was a one-in-a-million shot,” he said, standing close to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “That’s what you said when you snapped the picture.”
Lyra could only nod. She’d been thirteen and Dion had just turned seventeen. The Donovans were having one of their huge summer barbecues, which included the Las Vegas, Houston and Detroit branches of the family. There were easily two hundred people at the Big House and Lyra had loved the feel of family celebration the entire weekend. She’d had a moment with Dion since Regan and a couple of her cousins were off somewhere looking at fashion magazines. They’d walked along the dock, which seemed to be their favorite spot, and out of nowhere a dragonfly had appeared. It was beautiful with its dark pink body and wings that almost seemed to glisten. It sat right on the edge of the dock and appeared to look up at them. The camera Mr. Bruce had given her for her twelfth birthday that was always around her neck was lifted instantly and the moment captured. Now she could see it had been captured for all time.
“That was a beautiful day,” she said, her fingers still moving over the photo.
“It was the day I realized you weren’t my sister after all.”
“What?” she asked putting the frame down and turning to him. “You and Sean treated me like the hated little sister for years, even after that.”
Dion was shaking his head. “But I knew you weren’t. You, uh, changed a lot that year.”
Lyra blushed. “I grew breasts and got my period.”
He frowned at that. “Like I said, you changed. And I started to feel different around you.”
“I was just a kid and you were thinking of robbing the cradle.”
Dion laughed. “I know. It was all kinds of weird, and I hated myself for it every night when I went to bed. But as time went on you kept changing and I kept feeling, until you were in my every dream. I kept the picture because it was a part of you. So even though you were miles away, you were still here, with me where you belonged.”
His hands cupped her face and Lyra leaned into his embrace lifting her face in anticipation of his kiss. It came with a soft sweep of lust that pooled in her lower abdomen. Then she was on tiptoe, seeking more, loving the feel of his big strong hands on her back, her bottom, lifting her to him.
“I’ve dreamed of watching you undress,” he said his voice as husky and deep as she remembered in her own dreams.
“Then I guess I’ll make your dreams come true,” she said with a smile and a spurt of courage she’d never felt before in the bedroom.
No, she wasn’t a virgin, but her time in bed with men—actually, only Mark—hadn’t consisted of dim golden light, heated touches or the longing looks Dion was now giving her. He made her feel sexy and desirable, whereas Mark had only made her feel like the woman in the grand scheme of sex.
“Just one second,” he said, turning back to his nightstand where he reached inside a drawer to pull out a wrapped condom.
Her heart gave a little stutter at the reality that she and Dion were actually about to make love. She’d waited so long for this moment. The second his eyes were once again on her she reached for the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it over her head slowly. Her outfit of sweats and a shirt wasn’t terribly sexy, so she figured she’d have to add a little to the striptease.
Reaching behind her back she unlatched her bra and had the pleasure of watching Dion’s eyes darken as she shifted her shoulders and let it fall to the bed. He moved closer to the bed, his arousal apparent through the baggy shorts he wore. Her nipples puckered and stung beneath his in-depth perusal.
He removed her shoes and socks, then Lyra pushed her sweatpants down her legs and off. Wearing only her bikini underwear she came to her knees on the bed and held her arms out for him.
Dion stepped out of his shorts and Lyra gulped audibly. His body was even more sculpted than she’d witnessed through his clothes. And he was endowed, very heavily so. She couldn’t stop staring at him in all his glory, and her heart beat wildly in anticipation.
He put his knee on the bed, and when he was directly in front of her wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. His lips covered hers in a wild kiss that ended with them both falling onto the bed, Dion ripping her underwear off. He handed her the condom and she quickly unwrapped it and sheathed him.
“You are a beautiful woman,” he said, his body hovering over hers.
Lyra lifted a hand to his cheek. “You are a beautiful man.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Men aren’t beautiful.”
“You are,” she said decidedly, letting her hand slide down to his chest and his abs.
When her fingers gripped his length Dion sucked in a breath. She stroked him from the base to the hilt, watching the intense play of emotions on his face as his heat filled her hands. A muscle ticked in his jaw when she rubbed a finger over his tip. She licked her lips simultaneously and he groaned.
“I can play the touching game, too,” he said, sliding a hand over her hip and to the inside of her thigh.
A part of Lyra wanted to beg him to touch her. But she didn’t have to. His fingers lightly pressed beyond her folds, finding her center ready and wet. She sighed into the touch, wrapping her fingers even more securely around his length. When he thrust a finger inside her she bucked and called his name as pleasure rippled through her in mighty waves.
“God, I love to hear you say my name,” he groaned, pulling his fingers from her center and settling his thighs between hers.
In desperate need for more, Lyra guided his length to her entrance lifting her hips to meet him.
“I’m ready, too,” he said against her ear and pressed into her.
“So long,” she whispered feeling him fill her in slow increments. She wanted to work her hips, to thrust against him, the pleasure was so intense. But so was his size compared to her build, and another part of her insisted she sit still, take his movements as slowly as she could.
“It seems like we’ve waited forever,” he was saying, pulling out of her, then thrusting, slowly, back in.
Lyra opened her legs wider, grasped his biceps tighter and realized how much she loved this connection, this closeness with him.
“But I’ve got you now,” Dion said, lifting off her to grasp both her legs, placing her ankles on his shoulders. “And I’m never letting you go.”
God, she hoped not!
His pace picked up considerably and a light sheen of sweat covered Lyra’s body. When he turned her onto her stomach and entered her again she screamed into the pillow, her fingers fisting handfuls of the sheets beneath her. Dion’s rugged voice was in her ear, telling her how good she felt, how much he loved being inside her. Lyra was going crazy. He’d stroked one pleasure point and found another and now she thought she would simply explode. When he pulled her up onto her knees she couldn’t hold back any longer. Thrusting back to meet his every stroke she called his name.
He joined her with a loud moan of his own and they both collapsed on the bed as their ultimate release took over.
Chapter 13
“I have to go,” Lyra said when he caught her trying to s
neak out.
Dion knew he’d shocked her when she went to stand after tying her shoes and he was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at her intently.
“It’s just about dawn, you might as well stay,” he said.
“I’d rather not be coming into the house when your parents are sitting down to breakfast.”
“You’re an adult,” he said, standing because she was already heading for the door.
He followed her even though he was naked. After all they’d done hours ago—and what he’d intended to do when they awoke this morning—he wasn’t feeling terribly modest.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. “Just wait a minute. You’re running out of here like you’ve broken some kind of law.”
She stopped but wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted. “The morning-after thing, or should I say the hours-after thing. I just don’t know how.”
“First,” Dion said, lifting her chin so she would look at him. “You don’t sneak out. That’s juvenile. And second, you start by saying good morning.” He leaned forward kissing her first on the forehead, then on the tip of her nose, finally on her lips.
“Dion.” His name was a sigh instead of the heated request he’d come to love hearing. “I need to figure out how to play this. We need to figure it out. Your parents are going to have questions. Your family.”
“Questions about what? We’re both consenting adults who consented to making love, finally. What questions would they ask?”
“I live with your parents. They paid for me to go to school. They’ve taken care of me half my life. This,” she said, spreading her arms wide, “looks like I’m repaying them by sleeping with their son. That’s not cool.”
“What are you talking about? Repaying them? Have they ever asked you for anything, Lyra? You really think they’re looking to be repaid for loving you.”
“No!” she yelled. “Yes! I mean, see, this is what I’m saying. I don’t know what to do next.”
