LaClaire Groom (After Hours Book 4)

by Dori Lavelle

  Table of Contents

  Jia

  Lance

  About the Author

  Also by Dori Lavelle

  LaClaire Groom

  After Hours Book 4

  Dori Lavelle

  Contents

  1. Jia

  2. Jia

  3. Jia

  4. Lance

  5. Jia

  6. Lance

  7. Jia

  8. Jia

  9. Jia

  10. Jia

  11. Lance

  12. Lance

  13. Jia

  14. Lance

  15. Jia

  16. Lance

  17. Jia

  18. Lance

  19. Lance

  20. Jia

  21. Lance

  22. Jia

  23. Lance

  24. Jia

  25. Jia

  About the Author

  Also by Dori Lavelle

  Copyright © 2018 by Dori Lavelle

  Editing: Mitzi Carroll

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  1

  Jia

  The satin sheets sigh as Lance closes the distance between us. A tingle races down my spine when he sweeps my hair to one side and kisses the nape of my neck—his warm breath caressing my skin in the most delicious way. He draws even closer. His hand encircles my waist and moves lower down my body, brushing across my flat belly until it reaches the place between my legs.

  My breath catches in my throat as I open my legs slightly to allow him entry. His erection is pressed hard against my lower back when I curl myself into the curve of his body.

  I’m sinking into his invigorating, masculine scent when he moves his lips to my ear. “Morning, beautiful. Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  I bite my lower lip to stifle a giggle. “I’m not quite sure. Go ahead and say it again.”

  “I. Love. You.” Every word is followed by a flick of his tongue on my earlobe.

  I turn around to face him and place a hand on his cheek, his 5 o’clock shadow prickling the palm of my hand. “Not as much as I love you, Mr. LaClaire,” I say.

  “Are you sure about that?” His mischievous grin deepens his dimples which never fail to make my heart flutter.

  “Oh, I’m sure.”

  He lays a hand on top of mine. “Care to show me how much?”

  “You can’t get enough, can you?”

  “From our first date, you knew what you were getting into.” His intense gaze drops to my naked breasts. After our lovemaking session last night, we fell asleep without bothering to get dressed. I love when that happens. It makes me feel so much closer to him with not a shred of clothing standing in the way.

  His teeth sink into his lower lip as he gently outlines the circle of my breast with the palm of his hand, causing them to surge to the point they feel about to burst.

  His hand moves down my body, skimming my hips before moving to my butt, squeezing it.

  “The things you do to me have to be illegal.”

  “If living on the other side of the law feels this way, I’d gladly go behind bars for you.”

  Instead of responding, I move my lips to his, allow myself to drown in him, while his hand moves down the length of my back. Jolts of pleasure awaken my entire body as his gentle fingertips trace the length of my spine. His lips devour mine in an urgency that sends a shockwave through my body and makes me quiver. His touch never fails to enthrall me.

  Unable to hold on any longer, I ease myself on top of him, my lips still pressed against his, my senses out of control.

  “I want you inside of me.” My voice comes out in a strangled whisper. “Now.”

  “Then what are you waiting for? I’m ready for you, baby.”

  That’s all the permission I need to guide him inside of me—to rock his bed as he rocks my world. My moans and his grunts fill the room as flesh meets flesh. My breasts tingle from the caresses of his chest hairs.

  His hands glide down the sides of my body on their way to my thighs, gripping them as he matches my urgency with his own desire. Then he brings back one of his hands and trails it back to my head, where he wraps my long black hair around his hand and tips my head back ever so slightly so he can kiss my throat, searing a path across my skin.

  Our bodies move together in a dance we have rehearsed for two years now. We keep dancing until we both reach the edge of desire. Moments before I come, he grips my ass with both hands and presses me against him, forcing me to come to a halt.

  “Don’t stop,” I say in desperation.

  “No need to worry; I’m only taking a moment to enjoy the journey before we get to the finish line.” He squeezes his eyes tight and clenches his jaw.

  I study the face of the man I love, the man I never want to live without. With each thrust, my eyes trace the lines of his strong jaw, his perfect lips, his dark lashes. Without warning, he lifts me off him a few inches, only to bring me crashing down his length again, shooting into me like a bullet desperate to meet its mark. Waves of ecstasy flood through me and come to crush in the center of my belly.

  His grip tightens against me, and his body stiffens, but he doesn’t stop sliding me up and down his cock. He slams into me so hard, his body moves a few inches from the bed before falling onto it again. His eyes fly open for me to see the desire burning in their depths. My heart bursts with love when he calls out my name as he comes inside of me.

  When it’s all over, we lie naked next to each other for a long time, the heat of remnant sexual desire still rippling underneath my skin. With each movement, I feel deliciously sore between my legs.

  “I believe you now,” he says, lifting himself onto his elbow to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. He smells of cologne and sweat.

  “What do you mean?” A frown touches my forehead.

  He kisses the frown away. “I believe you when you say you love me. You just made that abundantly clear.”

  “That’s good. That’s very good.” My still-tingling lips curl into a smile. “Never forget it. Not even for a second.”

  “Well, whenever I start doubting, I can always ask you to remind me. I need reminders ... many of them.” He lies back down, hands clasped behind his head, a soft, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

  “You’re such a naughty boy.”

  “And I’m sure that’s what you love most about me.” He still doesn’t open his eyes. “What time is it?”

  I reach for my phone on the nightstand and turn on the screen. “A few minutes to seven.”

  “Let’s sleep a bit before Rose gets up.”

  Even though Lance’s daughter was named Alice Rose, she prefers to be called Rose, which is a good thing as it prevents a lot of confusion. Her mother was also named Alice.

  “Good idea.” I settle back in the circle of his arms, but as I close my eyes, we both hear a tiny voice.

  “Daddy,” Rose calls from across the hall.

  Lance groans, but his smile widens. “Looks like it’s too late for that.”

  “Should I go?” I ask, already getting out of bed and pulling my lavender, silk nightgown over my head.

  “No, she asked for her daddy. There’s something I need to discuss with her anyway.” He pushes himself to the edge of the bed and sits like that for a moment.

  Watching him, I can’t believe that a few years ago he was unable to walk, unable to do a lot of things. Now, even though he walks with the help of a c
ane—which he doesn’t really need—and there’s still a slight stiffness to his movements, he no longer has a need for his wheelchair, although he still keeps it in the room by the window.

  He grabs his boxer shorts from the floor, pulls them on, and reaches for his cane. Then he pulls himself to his feet. Throwing a smile and a wink over his shoulder, he moves toward the door and unlocks it.

  Once he’s gone, I pick up the small remote to open the blinds, and settle back into the warmth of the bed. I rest my head on my hands and watch the morning sunlight awaken the room.

  From a distance, I can hear Lance and Rose talking. My heart swells with love for both of them. I never thought I’d be able to love somebody else’s child so much, almost as though they were mine, but Rose has completely stolen my heart.

  I’ve known her since she was a baby and watched her grow into a sweet and happy four-year-old girl who lights up every room she enters. Sometimes my heart aches when I remember that her mother never had the chance to meet her, but if Alice were here, I’d never have gotten together with Lance.

  The sounds of Lance and his daughter coming down the hallway toward the bedroom pulls me from my thoughts. Suddenly, they’re standing in the doorway, holding hands.

  The little girl’s auburn curls are disheveled, some of the locks hovering over her eyes. She gives me a bright smile and looks at her father. “Can I tell her now, daddy?”

  “Tell me what?” I pull myself up in the bed, tilt my head to one side. “What are you two hiding from me?”

  Lance clears his throat and closes the door behind them. “Not yet.”

  “Please, Daddy,” Rose pushes. “I want to tell Jia.” Before Lance can stop her, she pushes one of her small hands into a pocket of Lance’s boxer shorts and pulls out a small, black box. Ignoring the look of horror on her father’s face, she runs across the room and climbs up onto the bed.

  My heart is inside my throat as Rose stretches out the hand holding the box. “Look, it’s a ring. Daddy bought it for you.”

  “So much for surprises.” Lance chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  As I force myself to breathe, Rose picks up my hand from the top of the bed sheets and pushes the velvet box into it. She gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Open it, Jia. It’s pretty.” She claps her hands with glee.

  Tears warm my eyes as I look past Rose at her father. “Lance …”

  I hold my breath as he crosses the spacious room to get to me. It’s a struggle for him to get to his knees, but he manages it. His emerald eyes meet mine.

  “You know what, I’d planned on doing this another way, but I guess I couldn’t have made this moment better if I tried.” His dimples flutter on his cheeks. “Jia, when you entered my life for the second time, you found me a broken man. You took on the impossible task of piecing me back together. You embraced my daughter into your heart. You love her as your own.”

  “I ... Oh, Lance—”

  “Jia, you decorate my life every single day. You bring color, laughter, and so much more into every moment of my life. But I’m greedy. I want more of that. I want more of the magic you bring into my world. I want more of you. I want this forever.” He swipes a hand across his forehead. “I never want to live a day without you; I’m ready to promote you to the highest level.” He smiles. “I want to be able to call you my wife and have the permission to be your husband.”

  “Say yes, Jia.” Rose claps her hands even harder and bounces around on the bed.

  My gaze moves from Lance to his daughter and back again. Their faces are distorted from the tears in my eyes. I try to smile, but my lips are frozen—refusing to move.

  I drop my head to look down at my hands. A hot tear rolls down my cheek and drips off my chin onto the unopened jewelry box. It glistens like a jewel before sinking into the velvet.

  Lance takes my hand and uncurls my fingers to release my grasp from the box. He snaps it open to reveal a stunning emerald-cut diamond surrounded by two more yellow diamonds.

  The moment is perfect—the ring as breathtaking as the proposal. Lance couldn’t have offered himself to me in a more perfect way.

  “What do you say?” He quirks an eyebrow, smiling. He’s still holding the ring, and I don’t make a move to offer him my hand.

  “I ...” I bite down on my lip to hold back the tears.

  Rose touches my cheek with her small, warm hand, wiping away the tears, the way I do for her when she cries. The gesture only makes me cry harder.

  “It’s happy tears, Daddy.” She engulfs me in a hug that breaks me apart. When I don’t stop crying, she climbs off me and goes to pick up one of her dolls from a leather armchair in the lounge section of the massive room—distracted, as little girls often get.

  “Hey, you okay?” Lance’s face tightens. “Is she right ... happy tears?”

  Still unable to speak, I reach for the ring he’s holding and wrap my hands around the cool piece of metal. It feels too heavy in my palm.

  “Jia?” The blood drains from Lance’s face. His eyes take on a haunted look. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  My heart breaks as I watch Lance’s face crumble. He struggles to pull himself back to a standing position and comes to sit at my feet. “You don’t know whether you want to marry me?” he asks in a whisper.

  “I’m sorry.” I swallow the tears clogging my throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  He swipes his forehead with a hand. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted this. I thought this is where we were headed in our relationship. We’ve been together for two years.”

  Unsure what else to say or do, I slide out of bed and kneel down in front of him. “Lance, please don’t misunderstand me. Don’t question my love for you.”

  “How can I not? I’m kind of confused right now.” He glances at Rose, who’s now braiding her doll’s blond hair. “Angel, go on downstairs. I’m sure Eva made delicious breakfast for you. You can have hot chocolate, but not too much.”

  The little girl doesn’t need to be told twice. She flies out of the room, carrying her doll by the hair.

  “Tell me what’s going on here.” Lance’s jaw tightens with each word. “I feel as though I’ve made a fool of myself.”

  “I do love you. I love you and your daughter. You decorate my world just as much as I decorate yours.”

  “Then what’s stopping you from becoming my wife? Why won’t you marry me?”

  “It’s not that I don’t …” I squeeze my eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. I open them again. “I need time to ... time to think. I can’t give you an answer right now.”

  “You can’t give me an answer right now or at all? If I’m wasting my time, I need to know.”

  “I will give you an answer, but not right now.” Before I can cause him anymore pain, I rise to my feet and blindly gather my clothes from around the room. When Lance ripped them off me last night, he’d sent them flying on chairs and lamps and the couch. Holding them to my body, I disappear into his mirrored walk-in closet and close the door softly behind me. Even with the door closed, I can feel his gaze burning through the wall and the glass to get to me.

  My heart is tight against my chest, and my breath is coming in quick, painful gasps as I clutch my hands around my throat. After pulling myself together as best as I can, I get dressed in a hurry, swipe away the tears and smooth my hair.

  I need to get out of here—to think. There’s no man I want more than Lance LaClaire, but he doesn’t know me, not really. Entering into a marriage when I’m keeping secrets from him feels wrong. Accepting his ring would feel like a betrayal. How could I tell him without him ending up hating me?

  If he knew who I really am, it could mean the end of us. I feel like crap for leading him on this long. I knew that we were serious, and there was a possibility he could one day propose, but I thought I still had time to prepare myself for that possibility. I never expected it to arrive on a beautiful June morning, taking me completely
by surprise.

  When I emerge from the closet, I find Lance standing by the window next to his wheelchair, gazing out into his well-manicured gardens, his back so straight it looks about to snap.

  “I need to go to my apartment.” He doesn’t respond or turn to look at me. The claws of sadness tear at my heart. “I’ll call you.” I wait for a little longer for him to turn to me, but when he doesn’t, I get the message that I’m not wanted here. I have broken his heart, and I have no right to be in his presence right now.

  I walk out of his house, feeling like the worst person in the world. I feel even more rotten when I get into the new Mercedes-Benz he bought for me for my birthday last year.

  I start the car without looking up at the windows of the villa in case he’s looking out the window, watching me leave with the ring I didn’t let him put on my finger.

  I wait until I’m a safe distance from his property before I pull to a stop and allow myself to cry until my heart is empty.

  2

  Jia

  By the time I pull up in front of my apartment building, I’m sick to my stomach with guilt. I feel terrible for not being able to give Lance the answer he wanted.

  I lean my head on the headrest and close my eyes. An image of Lance’s face flashes across the screen of my mind. Anxiety spurts through my body.

  After what happened today, I could end up losing him, even though it’s the last thing in the world that I want. It seems I’m damned if I tell him, and I’m damned if I don’t. I feel as though whatever I decide to do wouldn’t be the right thing.

  I open the car door at the same time I open my eyes. As I always do every time I come home, my gaze sweeps my surroundings.

  A woman is walking a rather active poodle, a man with a bushy beard pushes a cart filled to the brim with plastic bags, and another woman picks up a toy that had fallen to the ground and hands it back to the baby inside a stroller. Nothing out of the ordinary. The day has started, and people are going about their untroubled lives.