by Lauren Layne
“Actually, your plan is a good one. Gives the guy quite a tantalizing view of your ass.”
She moved back toward the bed, and he caught her around the waist with one arm before she could lie back down. He kissed a warm, wet kiss against her stomach, and her hands found his hair.
“You like your fingers in my hair,” he said. She felt his smile against her flesh.
“Maybe.”
She did.
His mouth inched lower, his tongue teasing just below her belly button. “Gives a woman lots of control, doesn’t it? She could have his mouth wherever she wanted…”
Ava’s nails dug ever so slightly into his scalp, as his palm slid up between her thighs before he ran one finger lightly over her slit. “Anywhere, Ava.”
Oh God.
And as much as she wanted his mouth between her legs, there was something she craved even more.
She leaned down slightly, picking up the condom near his hip before holding it up meaningfully.
“Greedy girl,” he said as she tore open the wrapper.
She glanced down. “Very.”
Luc’s eyes glazed over before he snatched the condom out of her hand and rolled it on in one smooth motion.
He slid his hands over the backs of her thighs, pulling her forward even as she lifted her legs so that her knees were on either side of his hips, as she knelt over him on the bed.
They both watched as she reached down, stroking him twice before guiding him to her entrance. Their eyes locked for a crucial moment before she lowered, sinking onto him inch by exquisite inch.
When he was all the way buried inside her, they both stayed very still, her face buried against his neck as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her as close as they could get.
“Damn, Sims.”
She smiled against his shoulder. Damn indeed.
His hands moved to her hips, lifting her slightly before pulling her back down again, and that was all she needed. She sat back slightly, letting him support her weight as she began to ride him in a rhythm that started slow and silky, but quickly escalated to furious and frantic. The room filled with the sounds of their quickened breathing, the smooth slap of her body against his.
Luc made a harsh noise that told her he was close, holding back for her, and she rode him harder, determined to drive him over the edge. But then his hand moved around to her front, sliding between their writhing bodies to find her damp center. His thumb found her clit, pressing against her in delicious circles.
The pace had been fast before, but it turned furious, and Ava never wanted it to end, even as she was desperate for the release that was right around the corner.
Then his teeth found her shoulder, nipping hard, the rough pad of his finger pressing against her, and Ava was lost.
She went over the edge with a gasp, riding him in urgent, graceless motions, letting his hands hold her hips to him, and only as the last shudders racked her body did he let himself go.
His hips bucked up, one arm wrapped around her body as his other hand clenched into her sheets as though needing to ground himself as he came with an earthy groan in her ear.
The aftershocks seemed to go on forever, until finally, they slowed to a stop, her damp body draped over his, her head on his shoulder as arms crossed over her back, hands resting possessively on her shoulder blades.
Ava could have fallen asleep there, slumped over the firm, male body of Luc Moretti, but dimly she became aware that it was probably a lot less comfortable for him, having to hold them both upright, and she pulled off him, standing on shaky legs as her hands went to her hair, thinking to straighten it before she realized the futileness of the effort.
Luc stood and then, cocky bastard that he was, gave her a wink and a smack on the ass before heading out of the bedroom toward the bathroom.
Ava started to tell him where it was, but instead flopped onto the bed in a boneless mess. Her apartment was small. He’d find it.
A lady would probably find her panties and put them on.
No, a lady would find fresh panties, and would have some sort of classy silk robe, but the only robe Ava had was a neon pink terrycloth number from college, and even if she knew where it was, she didn’t have the energy.
Luc reappeared in the doorway, taking in her naked body with a smile. “I like that you don’t rush to cover up. You’re a confident woman, Sims. I like that.”
Ava grunted, her brain still at half-functionality. “You there, boy. A cigarette.”
“You don’t smoke.”
“No, but I feel as though an orgasm like that calls for it, does it not?”
He moved to the bed, picking up his boxers and putting them on before stretching out beside her.
She scowled. “If I don’t cover up, why do you get to?”
He kissed the spot where he’d bit her shoulder earlier, and she shivered at the memory. “Well, let’s just say you don’t have an unflattering flop immediately after.”
She rolled toward him. “How long until the flop goes away?”
He played with a strand of her hair. “Usually? Ten minutes. With you? Two.”
She smiled, flattered, even though she knew it was a line. “Betcha say that to all the girls.”
His eyes narrowed just slightly. “Do I?”
She bit her lip briefly before taking a chance. “That mean you’re staying?”
His lips tilted on one side. “You asking me to stay the night, Sims?”
She rolled her eyes. “Relax, it’s not exactly a wedding band.”
Luc watched his fingers play with her hair. “Right. Because you don’t do that.”
“And neither do you,” she said, running a hand over his abs.
Neither made eye contact just then. It was better that way.
Luc rolled onto his back with a self-satisfied sigh. “All right. I’ll stay. Under one condition.”
“You’re totally about to start negotiating with blow jobs, aren’t you?”
Luc barked out a startled laugh. “I wasn’t, but damn if you didn’t just put the thought into my mind.”
“What was your original condition?”
“Who cares? BJs trump all.”
“Offer revoked,” she said with a teasing smile as she pulled herself into a sitting position. “I have more pressing issues on my mind.”
“What the hell is more pressing than oral sex?”
She slapped his roaming hand away as she went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of yellow boy shorts with a blue and white bow on the front. “Food.”
He got a thoughtful expression, but she held up a finger to stop his dirty thoughts. “Real food.”
Luc sighed. “Admittedly that was going to be my original suggestion before you distracted me with sins of the flesh.”
“Sins of the flesh?” She picked up his shirt and chucked it at him. “Say that again, and you’ll be out on your ass with no food, and definitely no blow job.”
He laughed and pulled the shirt over his head before reaching for his shorts.
Ava retrieved her tank top and yoga pants, and once they were both clothed it was slightly easier to not think about sex.
Slightly.
“You like sushi?” she asked.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism for…you know?”
She rolled her eyes, retrieving her glasses and headed back toward her computer to finish the takeout order that had become derailed by the best sex of her life.
“I’m ordering without asking for your input,” she said as he followed her into the kitchen. “I don’t think I can handle any spicy tuna jokes right now.”
“I would never.”
She gestured toward the fridge as she doubled her previous order, then remembering that Luc had several inches and a six-pack on her, tripled it. “Wine.”
He poured them both a glass of the sauvignon blanc as she placed the order.
“Forty-five minutes,” she said on a groan, leaning back in her chair and patti
ng her stomach forlornly as she took a healthy swallow of wine.
“What?” she asked, noticing that he’d paused mid-sip to watch her with a funny expression on his face.
“Nothing,” he said, recovering and taking a sip of the wine. “You’re just different than I thought you were.”
“Good different?” she asked, hating herself for asking, but needing to know.
His eyes were still warm, but they’d lost that mysterious look of before. “Depends.”
“On?”
“How about that blow job?”
She laughed and gave him the finger.
Just like that, they were back to normal. Which was a good thing.
Right?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It’s not exactly a fishing trip,” Tony Moretti said as Luc came back to the table carrying four beers.
“Well that’s the thing about having three cops for sons,” Vincent said, snagging one of the bottles and tipping back in his chair. “Harder than shit to get overlapping time off for an entire weekend.”
“We did it last year,” Tony grumbled.
“Well last year, we had an in with the police commissioner,” Anthony pointed out.
Their father’s expression turned downright brooding, and Luc resisted the urge to slap both brothers upside the head.
Just what their dad needed on Father’s Day: a reminder that he was retired and that instead of floating on Seneca Lake with a growing pile of trout, he was settling for father/sons drinking time in a Lower East Side dive bar.
Tony’s eyes narrowed on Anthony. “Has Dempsy announced his retirement yet?”
Anthony’s scowl deepened as he idly peeled at the label on his bottle. “You don’t know?”
“I’m not commissioner anymore, as you’ve just reminded me,” Tony snapped.
Luc opened his mouth to interfere but thought better of it. The Moretti men always relaxed after a beer or two, and after they’d gotten their shop talk out of the way. In twenty minutes, they’d move on to cracking jokes and playing pool, but first there was the inevitable career talk.
“Nope,” Anthony said finally. “I’m beginning to think talk about his retirement was premature.”
“Maybe,” Tony said, tapping his fingers against the bottle. “You still think you’re next in line?”
“Hell yes.”
But Luc noted the defiant tilt of his oldest brother’s chin. It was a big show of confidence, but Anthony was the cockiest guy Luc knew.
When he was really confident, it didn’t occur to him to show it. He simply was.
If Anthony was posturing—which he was—it meant he was unsure.
He’d have to ask Anthony about it later, when their dad wasn’t around.
Tony Moretti loved his sons more than anything, save for maybe Elena, the family favorite. But they were also his legacy. Their successes were his successes.
And their failures were his failures.
So far, Luc had only been the one to fail. Not that anyone ever talked about it.
Anthony rolled his shoulders. “I told you, Pops, I’d let you know as soon as there was a change, ’kay?”
Vincent made a big show of checking his shirt pocket before leaning forward and patting his back jean pockets as well.
“What?” Anth snapped.
“Just looking for my Midol,” Vin said with a fake-puzzled voice.
Anthony flung a peanut at their middle brother. “At least one of us is moving up the chain.”
“Hey, I don’t give a fuck about rank, so don’t pull that shit on me,” Vin said, chucking a peanut right back.
Anthony sipped his beer and declined a comeback, probably because he knew Vincent spoke the truth.
Vin had been angling for the homicide detective gig from the moment he entered the police academy. It was often a thankless job; not half as sexy as the TV shows made it, and they were outranked more easily than the public assumed. But Vin had always wanted it, regardless of pay, regardless of the fact that Anthony was several ranks ahead of him and likely always would be.
So was Marco, who, despite being younger than Vin, had just been promoted to sergeant over in LA.
Only Luc, as a lowly officer, was lower on the totem pole than Vin, although that was mostly due to his junior status and lack of experience. Luc had no intention of remaining an officer forever.
Not that he was power hungry. And not that there was anything wrong with officer.
Luc just wanted…more.
He wanted to be the best. Or at least not to be the worst.
Luc grunted to himself as he drank three rapid swallows of beer.
His father noticed. “Something on your mind, bambino? A woman?”
Ava’s face immediately came to mind, and because it was easier to picture her slight curves naked beneath him than it was to remember Jensen’s dead eyes, Shayna Johnson’s limp body, he let his father take the conversation there.
“Maybe.”
Anthony and Vincent both turned their attention to him, argument forgotten.
“He’s banging the reporter,” Anthony said, gesturing at Luc with his beer bottle.
“I’m not banging her.”
Well okay, he was banging her. But it wasn’t like that. It was…he didn’t know what the fuck it was, but it was damn good.
So good that he’d broken one of his own rules and stayed the night with a woman.
And then he’d done it all over again on Saturday night.
Hell, they’d spent the whole fucking weekend exploring each other’s bodies, and leaving her apartment for his own had been disturbingly difficult.
“What?” Tony’s bottle hit the table with more force than necessary. “Tell me your brother has it wrong.”
Luc met his father’s gaze stonily. He knew his dad was wary about this Ava Sims thing, but his father wouldn’t even tell him why. And his dad had been plenty friendly to her when she’d come over to dinner. The whole family was.
So if there was a problem—and it was evident from Tony’s irate face that there was—then he’d just have to explain to Luc what the hell that problem was.
Luc gave a careful shrug, shooting his dad an easy grin. “She’s a gorgeous woman. We’re enjoying each other.”
Tony’s lips rolled inward and he wrapped his fist gently against the table. “Nobody’s arguing that she’s gorgeous. We all liked her well enough at dinner, but what the fuck you thinking, getting your cock tangled up in her reporter’s world? I thought you hated this story shit, and now you’re yakking it up via pillow talk.”
Luc’s own temper went off. “Okay that’s enough,” he snapped. “I can understand your concern, but you don’t get a vote in who I sleep with.”
“I do when you’re screwing the press.”
Luc plowed his fingers through his hair. “Look, Pops, you know how I feel about all this hero crap, but that’s got nothing to do with what Ava and I do in our time off.”
“So no cameras in the bedroom, huh?” Vincent asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Because if there’s a way to crop you out of it so it’s just her tight—”
Luc gave his brother a warning finger, his eyes never wavering from his father.
“Seriously, what is the big deal?” Luc asked his dad.
Tony leaned forward and there was anger in his eyes, but there was something else too. Fear.
“Playing nice with her for the sake of the department is one thing. We were all set to get her on your good side. But for the sake of her story, not your pecker!”
“What difference does it make?” Luc asked, his own voice rising. “I’m allowed to talk to her about myself while in uniform, or as long as the entire Moretti family’s around to chaperone, but not in bed?”
“Well I can’t keep you from saying something damned stupid in bed!”
Luc threw his arms up. “What is it you think I’m going to say? It’s not like there’s some cliché mob connection that we’re trying to bury
behind the badge.”
“That’d be cool, though,” Vin said to himself. “Very bad-ass.”
Luc dimly registered what was happening. His hotheaded brothers were trying desperately to diffuse the mood and prevent a fight. A feat that normally was Luc’s duty.
The change in roles irritated him all the more. He didn’t need to be protected, not by them, not by his father.
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Luc said, leaning forward and meeting his father’s dark brown gaze.
Luc nearly winced as he heard the police therapist’s words coming out of his own mouth. How many times had Dr. Kaperski leaned forward in that very way, looking into Luc’s eyes and telling him he had nothing to hide?
That it wasn’t his fault.
“Of course not,” Tony said, looking away.
A quick glance around the table showed that Anthony and Vin weren’t meeting his eyes either, and Luc very slowly set his beer on the table, instincts buzzing in a bad way.
“What am I missing here?”
For a second, nobody responded, but then Vin gave him a not-so-gentle kick in the shin, brother-to-brother. “Just that you should be careful. Who knows what her motives are, you know?”
“Her motives are to get in my pants,” Luc said crassly. Ava wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment, but she’d like it a hell of a lot better than what his family was implying.
“So she doesn’t ask about your career?”
“Sure, I guess,” he said, feeling more agitated than ever. “I mean, you guys know that. You fucking told her all about it when she was at our house for dinner.”
His message clear: they couldn’t have it both ways. They couldn’t welcome her to the Moretti fold while telling him not to let it get personal.
It had been personal for weeks.
So what had crawled up their respective asses?
“Just be careful is all we’re saying,” Tony said. “We don’t want her asking about Mike.”
The table fell silent, and Luc waited for either brother to give their dad shit for breaking the unspoken code.
We don’t talk about fallen cops around family.
Certainly not around Luc.
