Unforgettable

by Delaney Diamond

  “I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t insecure. When you told me those stories I became curious. I’ve always been curious about other people’s lives because my life was so shiftless for the first fourteen years. I went from home to home, and I made damn sure I acted out so they would want to get rid of me because I didn’t want to need them. Mama Katherine was the only person who never gave up on me. I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for her—if she hadn’t handed me a pencil and paper and said, ‘If you get angry, write it down. Put your thoughts on paper instead of running all over hell and halfa Georgia acting like a damn fool.’” That sounded like something she would say. He smiled a little at the memory. She didn’t think he could help smiling whenever he talked about his mother. “She straightened me out, but that’s my story. It’s nothing like yours. What can I possibly offer you?”

  Ivy looked deeply into his eyes. “I never wanted anything from you. I just wanted you. I loved you, Lucas, and eventually I told myself I didn’t anymore. I had to, so I wouldn’t go crazy, looking into Katie’s eyes, so much like yours. Every day. Every day.”

  “If you loved me so much, how could you marry another man so soon after we broke up? Were you really secretly engaged to him?”

  “No, I wasn’t engaged to him,” Ivy said quietly.

  “You weren’t?”

  “I-I didn’t know that you would come back. If…” If she’d known. If she’d only known, she wouldn’t have married Winston. She wouldn’t have succumbed to the despair of thinking she’d lost Lucas for good.

  “I don’t know if that makes it any better,” Lucas said. “From where I’m standing, that summer meant a helluva lot less to you than it did to me. When I found out you were married, I begged; I groveled to get my job back. I spent three years over there. I signed up for two extra years so I wouldn’t have to come back to the States.”

  “I wouldn’t have married him if I’d known how you felt. If I’d known you were coming back.”

  “Why? Didn’t you love him?”

  “I did.” She still missed him sometimes. He’d been the perfect companion. “When Winston died, I was devastated. He was my best friend, but…we didn’t have a normal marriage. I loved him but I wasn’t in love with him.”

  Lucas’s brows drew together into a deep vee. “What are you saying?”

  “Winston and I were helping each other out. We had a marriage of convenience. My husband was gay.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Ivy told him the whole story from the beginning, filling in the blanks and responding to the invisible question marks in his research.

  After confirming her pregnancy, and with Lucas gone and having made it clear he did not-under any circumstances-want to be a father, she'd married Winston out of necessity. He'd been the one to suggest it after she'd confided in him, and they'd orchestrated a self-imposed shotgun wedding.

  She already had a reputation because of the sex tape and had run to the eastern part of the country to go to college and escape the knowing looks from the high society mavens and the occasional leer from her father's business associates. For the most part she'd managed to fly under the radar in Atlanta. But getting pregnant with no father in sight would only revive the rumors, and the last thing she wanted to do was end up in the papers again.

  For his part, Winston felt wholly responsible for his father's defeat in the last senatorial race. Winston's sexuality had come into question by “unnamed sources.” His father had run on a conservative platform, touting family values, which had been lambasted by his opponents through innuendo. Even perfectly innocent photos of Winston in the company of other men managed to raise eyebrows.

  A long time passed before they confessed the truth about Katie's parentage. By then, Ivy's father had been dead nearly two years, and the Somersets were so in love with Katie they considered her their grandchild anyway. The fact that she wasn't blood meant nothing to them.

  Since Ivy and Winston didn't have a real marriage, they had an understanding. They lived together in a mansion outside of Seattle, but she had her lovers, and he had his. Eventually Winston settled down with one man, but discretion was key. He rented an apartment in his boyfriend's name in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, known for its nightlife and gay population. He and his boyfriend met there regularly.

  Ivy also settled down with one person, in a more casual relationship than Winston had with his lover. Her relationship was built on trust, and because she simply liked Gil best. Initially they had their clandestine hookups in posh hotels, but when they started seeing each other more regularly, it made more sense for them to have a place of their own. She rented a pied-à-terre inside the city limits where they could meet when he was in the country.

  There was the occasional rumor about their marriage being a sham, but without concrete evidence, they always fizzled out.

  Winston's death had been completely unexpected. He'd complained of a terrible headache early in the evening, and though he was due back at the mansion, he'd told her he would remain at the apartment in Capitol Hill. His boyfriend had called her with the devastating news. She, with help from Cyrus, paid off the right people to keep the story quiet and released a counter story to protect Winston's reputation and the lie they'd been living all along.

  Lucas hadn't said a word the entire time Ivy had been talking. He let her get it all out, and she felt spent after the confession.

  “If I'd known you'd come back, I would have never done any of it.” She felt compelled to tell him again.

  “Why did you get pregnant against my wishes?” he asked.

  She couldn't tell if he was angry. He hardly moved, and it was difficult to see his face clearly with his back to the window.

  “I was wrong. I know I was wrong.”

  “Why did you do it?” he asked.

  “You told me you didn't want a child. I don't blame you for being upset.”

  “Why?” he prodded. He inched closer, peering at her with dark eyes that seemed to want to look into her soul.

  Ivy twisted her grandmother's turquoise ring on her finger. “Because I was desperate to hold onto a piece of you,” she admitted in a low voice. “I know it was selfish, but I didn't just want a baby. I wanted your baby. I-”

  She never finished her little speech.

  Lucas pulled her roughly into an embrace that had their lips crashing together. The way his mouth landed on hers, it was as if he'd been waiting for this moment, for that specific confession. For her part, Ivy became a ravenous being and immediately dived into the kiss, her arms crossing behind his neck to pull him closer. It went on for an eternity, becoming more aggressive as passion overtook them.

  Her tongue swooped into his mouth and her senses recognized him-his taste, the way he smelled, the way the short hairs felt under her palm as she caressed the back of his head. He kneaded her breasts and turned the nipples taut, transforming them into aching peaks that protruded from her blouse. She shuddered with reaction and wriggled against him, straining to get closer-to do anything to assuage the feverish need that now heated her loins.

  No more words were needed and no need to atone for actions from the past. All that was left was a burning desire to strip naked and feel his skin against her skin.

  They stumbled toward the bedroom, bouncing against the walls of the hall and clumsily tearing at each other's clothes. They couldn't get out of them fast enough. His shirt was yanked over his head and her panties discarded with a flick of her foot. Shoes, bra, trousers-all were tossed aside and left a trail to her bedroom door.

  They burst into the semi-dark room and toppled on to the bed. On the mattress they rolled once, twice, until she lay sprawled beneath his muscular frame. This position she knew well and had longed for too many times to count.

  His hand curled between her legs to find her hot and wet; her body jerked and she gasped at the impact. She almost couldn't breathe from the abundance of pleasure the slight touch evoked. His fingers explored the fine hairs and gently
kneaded the swollen flesh, and when he slipped the middle digit between the folds, an urgent moan spilled from the depths of her throat.

  She raked her tongue across his Adam's apple and dragged her teeth lightly against his earlobe. His ears were sensitive, and she felt the tremor that coursed through him. He rolled over, pulled her on top of him, and then he grabbed her butt to grind his erection into the moist cleft between her legs.

  “Lucas,” she breathed, running her hands over his beautiful, dark skin.

  It was almost unreal to think that she had him in her bed. Her fingers skated over the curly hairs sprinkled on his chest and traveled to the ridged muscles of his abdomen. Big and hard, he was the perfect male specimen; his body contained all the ingredients for unforgettable lovemaking-muscular arms, thick, powerful thighs, a strong back, and one long, steely erection to drive away coherent thought and the memory of any other man.

  Ivy dipped one breast into Lucas's mouth, and he lapped at the tip, groaning in frustration when she withdrew. She did it again, but her teasing came to a halt when he caught her by the waist and pushed her onto her back. Holding her hands pinned above her head, he took his time and licked his way across her chest, from one breast to the other. He savored each one, plucking the walnut-colored peaks between his thick lips and sending shockwaves to her clit.

  The moist swirl of his tongue and the rough texture of his beard across her sensitive skin ignited her nerve endings. She arched her back and opened her legs wider, letting him simulate sex with a slow grind. The pleasure was almost too much. She tossed her head from side to side, confined to one position because he held her captive so he could feast on her breasts without restriction. He was relentless, sucking her swollen nipples, licking at the curved mounds, burying his face in the valley between them.

  Just when she thought she couldn't possibly take anymore of the delicious attack, without notice, he turned her onto her stomach.

  “This is what I want right here,” he said.

  His hand palmed her butt in a display of possession, and she tilted her hips higher, wantonly rubbing her bottom against his crotch.

  “Can't wait, can you?” he asked in a rough voice.

  His hand landed with a loud smack on her bottom. Ivy cried out and bowed her back into a deeper curve. Feverish warmth expanded from the point of impact and sent an erotic wave through her body.

  “Don't you ever lose this ass,” he said. His voice sounded dark and thick.

  He hit her again, and the stinging blow sent a rush of heat to her wet core. Teetering on her hands and knees from the onslaught, she closed her eyes to relish the pain.

  “More,” she whimpered, pushing back against him.

  He sucked air between his teeth and obliged her demand, hitting her again and again. Every time he did the blow made her buttocks jiggle and sent an echoing pulse to her clit. She fell onto her elbows, mouth agape, gasping and weak with pleasure.

  “Look,” Lucas said.

  Ivy twisted her head and saw what he saw, the two of them reflected in the window-she on her elbows and knees and he behind her.

  He sat back on his haunches and lifted her knees onto his thick thighs. The position made it easy for him to kiss the bruised flesh of her butt cheeks, prompting a different kind of sensation. He soothed her with delicate kisses and moist licks of his tongue. A touch that was softer, more tender in pressure.

  “I love the way you smell,” he breathed, yanking her higher.

  Then he pressed his mouth to her sex. Ivy cried out, but he tightened his hold, keeping her in a vulnerable position that had her backwards and almost upside down in front of him.

  “Goddamn, you taste so good,” he panted. He tilted his head and licked her damp flesh as if he couldn't get enough. It was a complete and thorough ravishing that left her tearing at the sheets, breathless with her head spinning.

  A sound came from him, half groan, half growl. His mouth continued its merciless assault on her body, and like a voyeur, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of his face pressed between her legs, mirrored in the glass. The erotic image propelled her to the edge at a faster pace, and when she climaxed, her entire body shook from the force of it.

  Lucas eased her on to the bed on her stomach and trailed soothing kisses up her back. It felt as if he covered every inch of skin. She luxuriated in the attention, purring and stretching like a satisfied cat.

  “We're not done yet, darlin'.”

  She hoped not, because she still hadn't felt him inside of her. And she wanted that, more than anything.

  He rolled her over and fixed two pillows beneath her hips. He covered her body with his, and she closed her arms around his warm, solid torso. She stroked the satiny muscles and ran her hands down his back to his firm posterior. She urged him forward, and with one stroke he burrowed to the hilt.

  Her head snapped back and she whimpered as her body came alive again. Only he could do this-turn her into a livewire so quickly, so thoroughly. She pressed her feet into the mattress to meet each downward stroke. Rolling her hips, she matched his tempo, and her pliant body twisted unrestrictedly beneath him.

  “Goddamn, Ivy, wait a…” His voice trailed off when she tightened her muscles. He swore viciously, his rhythm stumbling.

  She felt powerful in that moment, as if she was in control.

  “You got the good shit,” he said. His voice was tight, as if he barely got the words out. “This my shit now,” he said, stroking harder, delving deeper. His eyes met hers in the glass. “Let me hear you say it. Let me hear you say this is mine.”

  Her muscles clenched around him as she neared another orgasm. “Yours, Lucas. This is your shit.”

  “Damn right.”

  Her arms tightened around his shoulders and her ankles folded at the base of his spine. In the glass, their brown bodies locked together so tight it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

  “All mine.”

  “Yes. All yours.”

  He swelled inside of her and she sensed how he struggled to hold back.

  “Don't stop,” she begged. She was so close. “Please. Not yet.”

  “I'm not gonna last much longer,” he grunted.

  His arms flexed and his throat drew taut as he wrestled with self-control. Clenching his teeth, he increased the speed of his thrusts, turning the sweet ride into a chaotic inferno of heat in her pelvis.

  It was just what she needed. Pressure tugged in her stomach and she exploded around him. Tears sprang to her eyes as her body shuddered through a climax that battered her senses and tightened her spine.

  “I love you,” she cried out as wave after wave of pleasure doused her body in flames.

  “Say it again,” Lucas commanded, pumping faster.

  “I love you. I love you.” Her hips moved spasmodically in time to the words as she rode out the orgasm.

  With a hoarse, pained sound, Lucas buried his face in her neck and came. His big body shook and he grabbed at her hips, grinding his pelvis between her thighs.

  “Ivy,” he gasped in a husky voice. His body trembled above her.

  After a long time, he finally caught his breath and lifted his eyes to hers. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Ivy stretched and slid her leg between Lucas’s thighs. The hairs there tickled her skin and underlined the contrast of his masculine body to her feminine form. He lay on his back with his eyes closed and she was half on top of him, drained of energy but very content.

  His eyelashes brushed his cheekbone, and she couldn’t resist swiping a finger over the curled hairs.

  “Watch it,” he warned. “You’ll poke my eye out.”

  “It’s so unfair,” she said.

  He grunted.

  She touched his beard, letting the bristles abrade her fingertips.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I like the beard,” she said.

  He twisted his head on the pillow to look at her. �
�So I can keep it?”

  “Yes, you can.” She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled into his neck.

  “How about a shower?” He ran a hand in a leisurely stroke over her hip and thigh, applying a pleasurable warmth to her skin everywhere he touched.

  Ivy moaned and rolled away from him. “I’m too lazy.”

  “Come on.” He smacked her bare bottom.

  “Stop.” She rubbed her flesh and watched him climb out of bed. She bit her knuckles to keep from screaming in delight as she watched the corded muscles of his shoulders and back ripple under the dimmed overhead lights.

  “Quit looking at my ass,” he said, heading toward the adjoining bathroom. “I’m not a piece of meat.”

  “I’m not looking at your flat ass.”

  “Ha, nice try,” he hollered from the bathroom. “I get a lot of compliments on my ass, thank you very much.” He deserved those compliments. He had a beautiful behind, firm and taut like the rest of him. She loved grabbing it as encouragement to sink deeper into her body.

  She sat up and yelled, “And apparently all those compliments have gone to your head.” She flopped against the pillows in a fit of giggles, feeling very pleased with herself.

  “What the hell are all these gadgets?”

  Ivy sat up again. “It’s a steam shower. It doubles as a sauna,” she explained.

  No sound came from the bathroom for a while, then, “Is this a radio?”

  She laughed at the incredulous tone of his voice. “It’s a control panel, but yes, there’s a built-in radio, too.”

  “Bet you haven’t used any of this, have you?”

  “Yes, I have.” In all honesty, she’d only taken advantage of the sauna once, right after she moved in. She hadn’t used it since.

  “You coming in here to help me with all these buttons, hoses, and other contraptions? I just want to take a shower.”

  Ivy groaned dramatically so he could hear, but she scooted off the bed and entered the bathroom to find him standing outside the glass enclosure. As soon as she was close enough, he grabbed her and dragged her into the shower with him and closed the door. Which had probably been his plan all along.