This Loving Feeling (A Mirror Lake Novel)

by Miranda Liasson

  He drew his face back from her a little so she could see his eyes. Suddenly there was no trace of a joke, no smirk, no dance of amusement. Just naked, raw feeling. Tears blurred her eyes.

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said in a raw whisper. “Just enjoy it.”

  “Lukas,” she said, surrendering her body to him. He dropped his head to her breast, circling her nipple with his tongue. The sky above her blurred, and she let go, crying out his name. He was still kissing her, dropping tiny kisses all over, and then suddenly he was standing up and tossing off his briefs and helping to slide her panties off—and oh! stars in heaven, that body!—and rummaging somewhere in the scrub pockets for his wallet and sheathing himself with a condom. Then he was back, his delicious weight over her, his chest with that proud eagle and fearsome snake flexing in unison with his taut, hard muscles.

  “Do you always cry like this when you make love?”

  She couldn’t speak. Could only shake her head. How could she tell him she was simply overcome? That everything he’d done to her, every tender touch, every gesture, and God, that killer smile—it all just slayed her. She’d never felt anything so right, so perfect. She couldn’t look back at the past or dare to imagine the future. She was just so grateful for him, for now, for this moment. She pulled him over her, slid her fingers through the coal-black silk of his hair.

  Words formed on her tongue, but she did not say them, for fear they would ruin everything. But they made her cry even more.

  She felt them down to her marrow. Never had anything felt so right, so complete. It was all suddenly so clear. Sam knew now what she’d really known all along. She loved Lukas Spikonos. She’d fallen in love with him when she was nineteen and she’d never really stopped.

  He expelled a hard breath as he entered her, rested his forehead against hers as their bodies joined. Looked at her with a tenderness in his eyes like she’d never seen. Then he was kissing her and loving her, and she wrapped her legs and arms around him and loved him back with every last piece of her soul until they both cried out, their voices floating down the rows of the exotic proud old theater.

  And much, much later they both realized that the pizza had gotten cold.

  Good thing Lukas had caught that nap in the ER. Considering the day he’d had (anguish, head trauma, and lots of lovemaking), it had served him well. At 3:00 a.m. they got dressed and ate the pizza, and Lukas finally began to feel the effects of the long day. His head was throbbing and his stitches were sore. So was his neck and back, but it was all worth it, and really, he had nothing to complain about. Because he had Sam, and any other little ache or pain was meaningless. Lukas half zipped the sleeping bag and crawled in. “You get in, too.” He patted the silver-quilted material invitingly.

  “It’s going to be hot in there.”

  “It sure is,” he said. “But come in anyway.”

  “What about my cast?”

  “Plenty of room for that.”

  Sam unzipped her dress, letting it fall in a puddle of sparkles to the floor, and slowly slid in, until they were very close, their bodies lined up in the halfway-zipped bag. “Snug as two bugs in a rug,” he said. He pulled the rest of the zipper up, which brought her soft, lovely breasts against his chest, and her hips resting lightly against his. He might as well have died and gone to heaven, because this was every fantasy he’d ever had come true, every inch of her luscious body aligned with his.

  “Squished as two bugs is more like it,” Sam said. “Except that a certain part of you is not very squishy at all.” Her hand groped deep down under in the bag, and found her target, and he loved it. “Nope,” she said. “Hard as a rock.”

  “Is that a complaint? Because if that’s a complaint, I’m going to have to get frisky.”

  He kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her cheeks. Then he just lay there, resting on his crooked arm, staring at her in the soft glow. Memorizing the arch of her brow, and the way her full lips tilted up when she smiled. “Samantha,” he whispered, tracing her cheek, “I could stare at you all night.”

  “Well, you just go ahead because I’m going to sleep.” She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. But her hands wandered gently over his back, his chest, his legs in a very unsleepy fashion.

  “Tell me a story,” she said after a minute, her soft lips curving up in a grin.

  “About what?”

  “About how much you want me.”

  “I could sing you a story. Would you like that?”

  He sang her a few bars, sexy and low, of a song he’d written about a year before when he’d imagined a moment like this, with her eyes full of tenderness, her hair softly mussed. A moment of peace and awe where they could lie tangled up with one another with all the time in the world. Funny how he never in his wildest dreams believed it would come true.

  “That’s beautiful,” she whispered, and edged a little closer. Now her velvety legs grazed his, and he couldn’t resist reaching a hand around to cup her sweet ass. He let his hand wander, up the curve of her butt, over the valley of her back. Every inch of her skin was soft and sweetly fragrant, and he reveled in every touch. She leaned into him a bit more.

  “I thought you said you were tired,” he said.

  “Maybe not so tired.”

  “So then singing’s my secret weapon. I’ll have to remember that.”

  “It’s always been your secret weapon as far as I’m concerned,” she said. Then she kissed him. And he really did think he’d died and gone to heaven.

  CHAPTER 17

  Preparations for a big celebrity wedding on the coast this upcoming weekend must have been more tempting to the paparazzi than the antics of a fledgling rocker, because by morning, most of the media had left Mirror Lake. Lukas hired a security detail to surround his property and Sam’s just to be safe. The “home” they chose to go to was hers, being that there was just something about that cozy little guesthouse that seemed perfect: insular, sweet, and tucked away from the world.

  Turned out Stevie was as worn-out from his sleepover as Sam was from hers and Lukas’s. That afternoon, Sam sat in the shade by the Donaldsons’ pool, reading Stevie a book while Lukas drifted around the pool on a rectangular floatie, wearing blue reflective sunglasses that made him look mysterious and hot, his beautiful olive skin glistening in the sun. His nose was still swollen, but they’d told Stevie he’d bumped into a door and left it at that.

  Every once in a while she would look up from the book, Stevie and his ratty blanket wedged in next to her on the chaise lounge, and catch Lukas’s gaze (or what she thought was his gaze, it was hard to tell with the glasses). He’d lift them to his forehead and send her a steamy, hot look that seared her down to her toes and back and made her grateful she was sitting in the shade.

  In fact, she was smiling at everything, from the sultry way Lukas couldn’t seem to help but look at her, to the hot cup of coffee he’d handed her as soon as they got settled in that morning, to Stevie’s excitement as he chattered on and on about everything he’d done with James at the sleepover.

  She couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt this way, not grilling herself with a million worried questions. The first time she’d made love with Lukas, long ago, she remembered a similar sense of contentment, but she was too young to really understand it for what it was. With Harris, she’d been constantly second-guessing everything, almost like she was always convincing herself to be in love with him. Or at least blaming herself for not having more of a response to him.

  But with Lukas . . . well. He’d overwhelmed her in every way. Just thinking about what they’d done together made her tingle all over. No, make that set her on fire.

  The book ended. It was a classic, one of Sam’s old books, The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton, about, yes, a little house in the country that over the years becomes surrounded by the city until one day a descendant of the original owners brings it back to where it belongs.

  She felt back where she belonged. And she re
fused to look ahead of the joy of the moment.

  “Read it again,” Stevie said, sporting that devilish Spikonos grin.

  “Later,” she said, laughing. “How about a little swim before dinner?”

  Lukas picked up a ball that was bobbing nearby and sat up on the float. “Oh, no!” he cried out in a mock-serious voice. “I think a shark is coming. Steven boy, I need your help.”

  “There’s no sharks in the pool, Uncle Lukas.”

  Lukas pointed at a shark floatie, splashed, and tossed the ball at it. “It’s coming to get me. Help!”

  Lukas paddled over to the edge of the pool, biceps wet and working in the sun. Holy Saints, the man was Hotness Embodied. The muscle. The wicked smile. The fun he was clearly having fooling around with Stevie.

  She helped Stevie slide his swim vest on. He jumped into Lukas’s arms and the two of them swam after sharks, Lukas diving and tossing Stevie in the air and splashing and both of them laughing. A lot.

  Then Lukas took Stevie to the shallow end of the pool.

  “You know what it’s time for,” Lukas said matter-of-factly.

  “I’m afraid, Uncle Lukas.”

  Lukas stood up in the pool. “It’s okay to be a little afraid of new things. But you can’t let being afraid stop you from getting what you want. You want to learn to swim?”

  Stevie nodded—sort of. Sam was worried he might ask for his blanket, because that thing would never survive the pool chlorine. On the other hand, the chlorine just might sterilize it, which could be a good thing.

  Stevie hung in there as Lukas demonstrated holding his breath, helped him float on his stomach, and showed him how to move his arms. Lukas seemed to know just how to gently prod him without pushing. Another surprise in the amazing Lukas armamentarium.

  “Are you ready to try it?” Lukas asked.

  Sam held her breath as Stevie dunked his head under and did a few duck paddles to Lukas. As soon as he was in arm’s length, Lukas grabbed him, tossed him up onto his shoulders, and ran with him all around the shallow end of the pool. “I did it! I did it!” Stevie yelled. Sam ran to the edge of the pool, clapping and exclaiming and blowing kisses and taking a million pictures. Stevie sat on Lukas’s shoulders, beaming from ear to ear.

  That night they both tucked Stevie in. After Lukas turned on the nightlight and left the room, Sam sat at Stevie’s bedside. “I’m so proud of you, swimming today,” she said, combing his hair over his forehead. And he’d eaten almost his entire cheeseburger tonight, which Lukas had put on the grill. He was starting to fill out, looking so much more hale and healthy than just a few weeks ago.

  Just a few weeks ago. When everything was different. That led her to wonder what the next few weeks would bring. Summer would breeze by, and soon there would be curled-up leaves on the ground and a bit of a slant to the sun, and the slightest chill to the evenings. Then what would happen with her borrowed family and her fantasy of happily ever after?

  Maybe Stevie sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he asked, “Do you love me and Lukas?”

  She tousled his hair, kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him hard. He smelled like Dove soap and clean pajamas. She wanted to bottle that smell to hold in her heart forever. “Very much. I love you and I love your Uncle Lukas. Now go to bed.” She made a show of pulling up the sheet and a light blanket, of saying a little prayer and tucking him in.

  She heard a soft noise from behind her, a subtle shifting of weight. Lukas had been standing behind her—for how long?

  “Night Uncle Lukas,” Stevie said. “It was a fun day. Especially the shark fight.”

  “Night, buddy,” Lukas said, giving a thumbs-up from the doorway.

  Sam walked out of the room and let Lukas close the door. Her eyes were stinging and she was overcome with a desperate need to hold on to this amazing man who was everything she’d ever wanted but who wasn’t at all. The least safe, the most unexpected, the one who had nothing from his past to recommend him as being the kind, loving person he was. Yet she felt freer and safer with him than she ever had before.

  If Lukas asked her to go with him on the road, what would she do? She’d made the mistake of giving up her life for a man before, and had vowed never to do it again. She loved her job, she loved Mirror Lake. The thought of being transient, unsettled, of moving from city to city, without family, without friends . . . it made her shudder. Yet if he left without her, he would take everything with him. Her heart, her soul. All of her.

  She hadn’t even realized she’d been standing stock-still, staring out the sliding door. Lukas came up behind her and began nuzzling her neck in that special spot just above her collarbone, sending waves of heat radiating everywhere. She flicked off the pool lights, pretending some semblance of purpose. “Stay with me,” he whispered. “In my bed. All night.”

  “That’s really funny,” she managed, “considering this is my place.” She tried to say more but it was so hard with him kissing her like that.

  “But Stevie . . . ,” she said weakly. She wouldn’t want him to wake up and see them together. It would give him hope for a real family. She of all people understood that, having spent her entire childhood longing for one.

  She turned in his arms so she could face Lukas. His gaze was solemn, heavy, like he was weighted down by similar thoughts like those she was having. She traced a finger along his dark brow, down the angle of his cheek. He hadn’t shaved today, and his stubble was a little rough and very, very sexy. She’d done such a good job so far of staying in the moment, but whispers of worry were clawing their way in, like tangled vines of ivy up brick. Memorize this face, a voice said. Every blessed, beautiful curve. Because how long would it be before he was gone?

  He belonged to another world, one she couldn’t fit into, no matter how perfect their little scene of domestic bliss looked right now. The clock was ticking, each tiny movement eating away another second of their time together.

  “Hey,” he said, cupping her cheek, a move that made her swallow hard to avoid tears. “We had a great day.”

  It was great. Fantastic. She’d never had such a happy day, not since she was seven and her parents took her to Crash and Splash, until she’d eaten a hot dog and cotton candy before she went on the kiddie coaster and then threw up.

  Too much happiness could do that to you. It was dangerous.

  She hooked her arms around his lean waist. Felt the wonderful warmth of him next to her. “It was the best day,” she said determinedly.

  “It’s not over yet,” he said with a soft smile. Then he kissed her, in that intense way of his she was coming to love. She threw herself into kissing him, determined to let passion take over and keep reality at bay.

  As he took her hand and led her to bed, she noticed something wedged into the corner of the couch. She picked up the threadbare dusty blue ball.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Lukas said.

  Stevie hadn’t needed Bobby tonight.

  Oh, heck. Leave it to that tangled ball of a mess to stir her emotions up all over again.

  “Samantha.”

  She was spreading the tattered thing out on the back of the couch as if it were five-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheet, smoothing it and folding and fretting with it.

  He gathered up her hands and made her stop. “Samantha.”

  She blinked back tears. “No, Lukas. I don’t want to talk about it. I want to focus on here and now. I don’t want to look down the road.”

  “Samantha.”

  She looked up. God, couldn’t she just have one happy day, one unmarred by thoughts she didn’t want to be thinking?

  He kissed her knuckles, every blessed one. Then he murmured sweet words to her, telling her how much she meant to him, how happy she made him, how he’d missed her, how he’d always missed her.

  But he didn’t use the L word. She wondered if he was avoiding it for the same reason she was. Because once you said it, it meant something. It meant they would have to face up to the impossible
.

  “We can work this out,” he said, shaking her a little until she was forced to look at him. His eyes slayed her. They told her he meant what he was saying. “I’m not letting you go.”

  She surrendered. “Okay, Rock Star. Shut up and take me to your bed.”

  He picked her up and carried her there, and did wonderful things to her until those pesky nagging voices really did shut up.

  “Oh, hi Lukas,” Olivia said, greeting him at the door of her remodeled Victorian on the square as he came to pick up Stevie from a playdate. A week had passed since the donor dinner. A fabulous week where he and Sam had spent every possible minute together while not talking about the inevitable time when he would have to return to his work.

  “Thanks for having Stevie over,” Lukas said.

  “Anytime. He’s a sweet child. The kids are playing in the yard. Want a Coke or something while I round them up?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” Stevie was a sweet child. And Lukas had to do everything in his power to protect him from being hurt ever again.

  “Sam told me you’ve started adoption proceedings. How’s that going?”

  Lukas shook his head. He’d had his lawyers working on drawing up the paperwork. Only he hadn’t discussed it yet with Stevie. He wanted to make sure Nico was out of the picture for good so there was no chance of him coming back. “Trouble is I have PIs looking for my brother so he can sign it.”

  “Well, we all love Stevie. Hope it gets settled soon.”

  “Lukas,” a voice called from behind them. He turned to see Brad wearing the scowl he usually wore when Lukas was around. “Do you have a minute to talk?” Talk? With Brad?

  Olivia frowned at her husband. “Brad, no. Come on, give the guy a break.”

  Brad flashed his wife a whose-side-are-you-on look.

  “Hey, it’s all right. I’d love to chat,” Lukas said, more because Olivia looked worried. Besides, a stubborn part of him wanted to show Brad that he’d changed, that he wasn’t the same guy from years ago who left town because he had nothing to offer. So he followed Brad down a wood-floored hall, sidestepping a couple of Barbie shoes and a Barbie camper—which was parked halfway into a bathroom that appeared to be the vacation destination, judging by the dolls, furniture, and other stuff corralled there—into a wood-lined library.