Just What I Needed (The Need You Series)

by Lorelei James

I let myself go too, staying focused on his pleasure and nothing else.

  Once he hit the point of no return, I stayed with him through every hot pulse and every jerk of his hips. I thought maybe the aftermath would be weird, because face it—sometimes sex was awkward even when it wasn’t new. But he just reached down, pulled up his board shorts and hauled me into his arms, nestling me against his body.

  Walker didn’t say “Thank you” or “Baby, that was great.” He just sighed like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders and muttered, “Fuck yeah,” almost to himself.

  Even snuggled together like this, I couldn’t not touch him. I nuzzled his beard. “Does this ever get too hot in the summer and you think about shaving it off?”

  “I’ve had it so long that I don’t notice.”

  “I can’t imagine what you’d look like without a beard, but with this gorgeous bone structure …” I nuzzled him again. “Maybe I’ll ask Selka to show me a pic of her baby boy before his beautiful beard.” I laughed. “I get points for alliteration.”

  “She’d like it if I had no beard,” he half grumbled. “What will you do with all these mysterious points you’re awarding yourself?”

  “It’s a thing I did as a kid. My mom used a point system for rewards. If I picked up my room without her nagging me, I’d get points. Or if I did my homework right after school, or if she saw me helping someone, she’d add those to the tally. When I reached a certain amount of points, I could cash them in.”

  “Cash them in for what?”

  “She offered me options. If I wanted to see a movie, it’d ‘cost’ points. If I wanted a new toy or jewelry, those cost more. I don’t know if that was supposed to teach me not to be materialistic, but it worked.”

  “How?”

  “I almost always spent my points to do things with her. As I’ve gotten older some of those memories started to fade, prompting me to write them down, because that’s all I had left of her.”

  Walker kissed the top of my head. “I can’t imagine not having my folks.” He paused. “How did she die?”

  “Hit-and-run. She was changing a tire late at night. They think the person that hit her lost control on the ice and plowed into her. The cops never found out who did it.”

  “Baby.”

  His sorrow for me brought all those memories rushing back. “For a while in my teen years I had this big conspiracy theory that my dad had her taken out.” Before he asked the obvious question of whether my father had the connections to do that, I said, “Guess I’d been reading too many thrillers. The theory faded when I realized after my mom died, he’d had to take on the daily responsibility of me. I’m pretty sure he would’ve done anything to prevent that, not cause it.” I changed the focus. “Have you lost anyone close to you?”

  “Not really. Maria, our first cook, died when I was sixteen and the house seemed empty after school without her. She and my mom were so funny together. It was hard on Mom too.”

  “What about the Lund family patriarch?”

  Walker’s body tensed beneath me. He said, “I’ve gotta move. I’m getting a crick in my neck.” He sat up and grabbed a bottle of water out of the cooler. After draining it, he crushed the plastic in his powerful hands. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about him.” He blew out a breath. “Probably because he was an asshole. He didn’t have much time for me anyway, which I am thankful for now.”

  I turned onto my side and propped my head on my hand. “But you weren’t thankful back then?”

  Walker shrugged. “I was a kid. It seemed I always ran into him when I’d been rolling in the dirt or something. Nolan could be just as filthy as me but Grandpa would praise him for the artistic placement of mud or some crap like that. Where I was just dirty.”

  “He played favorites?”

  “Oh yeah. I was maybe twelve when the almighty Jackson Lund informed me that I had an inferior intellect to my siblings and my cousins—including my four-year-old cousin Dallas. He suggested I run off to the woods and learn to carve clogs with Sven because working with my hands was all an oaf like me would ever be good at.” He snorted. “My grandpa Jensen’s name wasn’t Sven, but that’s a perfect example of how dismissive he was.”

  “What a miserable jackass.” I touched him, just a brush of my hand across his skin. “You didn’t … I mean, it wasn’t because of his nastiness—”

  “That I moved to Sweden when I turned eighteen and became a carpenter?” he supplied. “Nope. I figured his cut-downs were supposed to inspire me to try harder to be like him.”

  “What did your parents say when you told them?” When Walker didn’t respond right away, my heart clenched. “You didn’t tell them.”

  “I’ve never told anyone.” He looked at me over his shoulder. “I can’t believe I told you.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “I didn’t see any point in telling them. It’d just hurt and anger them—and they’d already dealt with that enough. It’s a testament to my grandmother’s influence—a woman I never met—that my dad and his brothers didn’t turn out to be entitled pricks, cruel fathers, heartless men and conscienceless business tycoons. They are the exact opposites in all ways.”

  The next thing I knew, Walker had rolled me beneath him. “How’d we get on that shitty topic anyway? When I should be entirely focused on the fact you’re strutting around in a swimsuit.”

  “Strutting?”

  “If you’re not, you should be.” He buried his face in my cleavage with a happy sigh.

  “Can we talk about the installation?”

  A petulant look darkened his eyes. “Now?”

  “Do you have everything on the list I gave you?”

  “Yep.” He started nibbling on my jaw.

  “Who’s helping you?”

  “Thought I’d hang around the railroad tracks on Saturday morning. See if any vagrants need work.”

  “Walker. I’m serious.”

  “I am too. It’s six days away. You’ll add twenty things to the list by then. So can we please focus on what’s important right now?”

  “Us having sex in the yard?”

  “Us having sex in the yard and then you making me lunch.”

  He deserved it when I pushed him in the pool.

  Eighteen

  WALKER

  I pulled up to Trinity’s house in my ’57 Chevy Bel Air. She’d made an offhand comment earlier during the installation about cleaning my truck out so she wouldn’t get her dress dirty. For an event like this I had no intention of driving my work truck. I had some class.

  Cars hadn’t been a topic in any of our conversations. Most women’s eyes glazed over when talk turned to engine size and speed-to-horsepower ratios. We Lund boys had been born with a love for cars. Brady preferred vehicles on the high end. Jensen’s requirement was the car went fast. Ash chose unique and rare models. Jaxson had traded in his Corvette for “the safest family car on the road” since he had Mimi. Nolan and I preferred muscle cars. In our pre-driving days, we spent hours compiling lists of our must-haves when we could finally purchase the classics of our dreams.

  This baby was the first thing I’d bought after I’d returned from Sweden. Just because I hadn’t rebuilt the motor myself or lovingly sanded down each panel prior to painting didn’t mean I wasn’t in love with this car. Not that it was the only one in my collection, but it was my favorite.

  The tie was choking me and I loosened it as I walked up the sidewalk. I’d dropped Trinity off four hours ago after we’d finished the installation. She’d insisted on being home to get ready, which I’d understood meant she needed to get in the right mind-set more than figuring out what she was going to wear.

  Today I’d witnessed a different side of her. Over the past few weeks I’d seen her in many scenarios—some good, some bad—but I’d never seen her in professional mode. She’d been clear that she expected her instructions to be followed to the letter. Any deviations were to be cleared with her first. I�
��d had no problem taking orders from her. In this case, she was the expert. Just because I had more muscles didn’t put me in charge by default, as so many men I knew assumed. I’d made sure the guys I’d asked to help weren’t of that boneheaded mentality.

  Trinity flung the door open before I knocked. As I stood on the step trying to roll my tongue back in my mouth—because she looked like a freakin’ goddess—her mouth ran at full speed.

  “You’re late—not really late, but late enough. I didn’t realize until I had this dress on that I can’t even zip it up by myself. Now I don’t know whatever possessed me to buy it. To be honest, I don’t remember when I bought it. I probably should’ve gotten something new, but I just don’t have the shopping gene and if I can’t get it online and have it dropped at my door then I don’t need it.” She grabbed my sleeve and tugged. “Come in. I can’t stand here half undressed. And we were supposed to leave like five minutes ago.”

  Once I was in the entryway with the door shut, she gave me her back and lifted her hair up. She peered at me over her shoulder and said, “Zip.”

  I’d zip her up. But first I wanted to trail my fingers down that slice of exposed skin. I loved her softness, her scent and the way she shivered at my touch.

  “Walker, please hurry up. We’re running behind.”

  I pulled the zipper up slowly, letting my lips brush the back of her neck. Then I wrapped my arms around her middle and nuzzled her ear. “Breathe.”

  “Walker—”

  “Come on, sweetheart. You’re all wound up and we haven’t left the house yet. Take a moment and just breathe.”

  She rested her body against mine, raising her left arm to twine behind my neck, allowing her to rifle her fingers through my hair. Turning her head so the bridge of her nose bumped the bottom of my jaw, she slowly and steadily breathed me in.

  I couldn’t wait to take her this way, with her on her knees as I pushed into her from behind, freeing my hands to be all over her.

  “You’re thinking about sex, aren’t you?”

  “It’s always the first place my mind goes when we’re body-to-body like this.” I kissed her temple. “You’d rather I was thinking about golf?”

  “You golf?”

  “Not well. Nolan always whips my ass.”

  Sighing, she lowered her arm. “I’d say something funny about a ‘hole in one,’ but I’m trying to cut down on sports analogies.”

  I laughed. I kissed her again and murmured, “Turn around, babe, so I can get a good look at you.”

  Trinity took three steps forward and faced me.

  She’d worn a lace dress the color of ripe peaches. It was more modest than I’d typically seen from her, high necked, with a heart-shaped cutout above her breasts that was covered with sheer fabric the same color as the lace. The material molded to her ribs, her hips, her belly and her ass, showcasing those mouthwatering curves, the hem ending just above the knee. Her shoes weren’t strappy stilettos, but closed-toe platforms, sexy in an understated way. My gaze zigzagged back up her body to her face. She’d chosen dramatic makeup, giving her a more polished flair, but it wasn’t overly done. Her glossy hair was tamed, sleek with the ends in a soft curl.

  I touched her cheek. “You are stunning. People will be looking at you as much as your incredible art.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You’re ready?”

  “Yep. But first I want to gawk at you since I’ve never witnessed the glory of you in a suit.” She gestured for me to turn around.

  I felt ridiculous but I did it anyway. Then the heat in her eyes as I slowly spun around to face her was worth it.

  “I think I just had a mini O. Damn, Walker Lund. You can wear a suit. A custom suit, no less.”

  “Brady, Nolan and Ash have the same tailor, so he’s my tailor by default, the poor SOB.”

  Trinity’s hand skimmed my shoulder and across my chest. Her fingers started at the knot in my tie. She slipped the silk between her thumb and index finger in a loose fist, stroking the fabric the way she stroked my shaft.

  I groaned and snatched her hand away. “Have mercy, sweetheart. I can only take so much with you looking hot and sexy and touching me that way.”

  Rising on her toes, she kissed me. “I can’t wait to peel these clothes off you later.”

  “Same goes.” I stepped back and heard a hiss. “Jesus.” I glanced down and Buttons glared at me. “You need a bell for that damn cat. She’s always sneaking up on me.”

  “I think that’s her way of showing she likes you.” Trinity draped a purse on a thin gold chain over her shoulder. “Ready.”

  When Trinity noticed the car parked at the curb, she grinned at me. “Keeping secrets, Mr. Lund? Why didn’t I know you had a bright red hot rod?”

  “You didn’t ask.” I opened the door for her and she slid in.

  Once we were on the way, she said, “This goes fast?”

  “Very. But I won’t demonstrate tonight.” I picked up her hand. “We’ll take it to the racetrack sometime and I’ll let you drive.”

  “Cool. I’ve never driven a performance car. I’ve always been focused on gas mileage and reliability.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  She was quiet for several miles. She kept twisting the chain of her purse around her fingers, unwrapping them and doing it again.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “This should be the moment I enjoy the most. The hard work is done, I’m satisfied with how the piece turned out, my client is thrilled and she gets to spring a surprise on the man she’s loved for almost fifty years.”

  “But?”

  “But thinking about the guests at the party judging me gives me anxiety. Esther wants me to give a speech. If there’s anything I hate worse than defending what I do, it’s explaining what I do. And no, they’re not the same thing, but I will be doing both tonight and that makes my lungs seize up.”

  I stroked her hand to let her know I was listening.

  “When you say ‘art,’ most people think of oil paintings, watercolors, charcoal, pen and ink. They see mixed-media pieces like mine and don’t consider them art. They consider me a hack. Because if I was a real artist, I’d be creating still life paintings like the masters. They either admit they don’t ‘get’ my kind of art and mention the time they saw the Jackson Pollock exhibit at MoMA or Maurizio Cattelan’s catastrophic mobile at the Guggenheim, neither of which is anything like my art. Or they nod at me, grim set to their mouths. It’s apparent they’re silently judging me. Silently judging the Stephenses too, thinking they have too much money if they choose to spend it on trashy artwork. And it’s not my paranoia talking. I’ve seen this time and time again.”

  I didn’t respond because I’d been that sneering guy—and I’d grown up in a family that regularly attended art events. I’d silently scoffed at anything that didn’t fit into the little box I’d been taught in school had the right to be called art. I couldn’t even admit that, up until a few weeks ago when we’d started dating, I’d been stuck in that same mind-set.

  “And to top it all off tonight, I’m a cliché. Falling into the brooding stereotype and swearing no one understands me because I’m a sensitive artist.” She sighed. “So tell me about this Lund party that’s going on at the same time.”

  No surprise she’d deflected back to me. “It’s to celebrate an acquisition.”

  “Will all the LI board members be there?”

  Except for you? went unsaid.

  “It doesn’t matter if they are because I’m with you tonight. Period.”

  “But if you have to step away—”

  “I’ll do it when you’re surrounded by a throng of admirers.”

  “Okay. That makes me feel better.”

  I pulled up to the members-only valet parking stand. Immediately a valet appeared as I climbed out. “Keys are in the ignition. Be warned, I’ll know if you hot-rod this. Any rubber that’s off those tires? I’ll take th
e same amount off your skin. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Lund.”

  I skirted the back end of the car and took Trinity’s elbow, leading her up the limestone walkway. As we passed groups of people, I wasn’t surprised I didn’t recognize anyone. I only showed up here when I had no other choice. The admiring looks some of the guys bestowed on Trinity earned them a back-the-fuck-off glare from me.

  “You always so possessive with your car?” she asked.

  “Yes. Some assholes want what other men have and I will fuck them up if they don’t stop eyeballing you.”

  “I thought we were talking about the car.”

  “We’re talking about what belongs to me.”

  Trinity stopped just inside the door to the club. “Walker. Take it down a notch.”

  “Nope.” I curled my hand beneath her jaw and tilted her head back for a kiss.

  She wiggled out of my grip. “Can we leave this for another night?”

  “Leave what?”

  “Talking about these feelings and crap.”

  “Crap?”

  She kept her focus behind me. “You know what I mean. How would you like it if I just announced that you belonged to me?”

  “I’d consider myself the luckiest man in the world.”

  “Oh.”

  “Trinity. Look at me.”

  I watched her inhale a deep breath before she tipped her face up.

  What I saw in those green depths staggered me. She loved me. If I hadn’t known it in the way she touched me, listened to me and gave me importance in her world, it was right there. But fear also lurked on the edges. And it almost eclipsed the look of love.

  Holy shit. Was she scared of me? Of this? Why?

  “I can’t do this right now. I have to see where they are with the party.” She sidestepped me and hustled down the wide hallway teeming with people.

  I followed her at as discreet a distance as I could manage. Instead of focusing on trying to place her fear, I focused on the pair of dudes who’d turned around to leer at her ass. Felt good to knock into each of them with a hard shoulder. The next group of guys giving her a head-to-toe once-over earned a scowl. And the men my father’s age—those perverts deserved my low-pitched warning growl.