Several beats passed before Elle found her voice. “Mother, listen closely. I’m never getting back together with Richard. Deal with it.” She poked the button to disconnect and carefully laid the phone on the end table. Then her composure dissolved.
She threw her arms around Luke’s neck and let the tears come. With his good arm, he shifted her onto his lap, and she gave in to her anger, her sorrow, her disappointment.
How could a social event be more important to her mother than her own daughter’s happiness? How could Allison Bradley be so out of touch with who Elle was, what her ideals were, what she wanted out of life? Sadly, it didn’t come as a total surprise. They’d never been close. Her mother had always been too busy with society functions to have time to raise a child, much less to love one. But had there always been such a massive chasm between them or had the kidnapping just brought Elle’s perception into focus?
The feeling of being lost and hopeless swamped her, more than when she’d been fighting to survive her kidnapping. Emptiness seeped deep inside, and she shuddered.
She didn’t like DC—correction, she didn’t like the people in DC—but it had been home and the location of her job. However, she’d never felt she belonged there, never felt it was the right fit. And now, she had no desire to return.
So, where did she want to go? Where did she belong? Where was right for Elle Bradley? Here in rural San Diego County, she was a stranger and a fish out of water, but maybe that was because her whole life had become surreal.
Luke’s arm around her, his lips gently kissing her hair, and his calm voice whispering comforting words were the only things feeling right. Luke was what she wanted, what she needed.
Luke was right.
Chapter 19
Dinner’s ready,” Stone called, poking his head in from the kitchen. He seemed to understand the situation at a glance. “You two must be exhausted. Why don’t you fill your plates and go eat in the guesthouse? Call it an early night. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” Luke said. “Elle, I can bring your dinner if you’d rather go right now.”
“No, no, I should be carrying your dinner, but I do like the idea of waiting until tomorrow to talk,” she said, wiping her tears and turning a grateful smile to Stone. “I’d like to freshen up.”
“There’s a bathroom in the hallway near the staircase,” Stone said.
Careful not to touch Luke’s hurt arm, she climbed off his lap and hurried away.
“Her mom’s a bitch,” Luke muttered as he followed Jake into the kitchen.
Stone leaned against the counter and crossed his ankles. “I can’t stand my girlfriend’s mother either. I’m lucky she and Angela are estranged, or I might have to choke down Thanksgiving dinner with her. Angela’s parents live in McLean, Virginia, near DC. Daddy Reardon is with the State Department, and Mommy Reardon is heavy into the high-society shit, but they’re legally separated right now. I wonder if they run in the same social circles as the Bradleys.”
“I wouldn’t know a high-society circle if it bit me in the ass,” Luke said, picking up a plate and heading for the platter of steaks.
“Does the chip on your shoulder ever get heavy?”
Luke’s head snapped around. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Stone’s piercing gaze never wavered. “Burke told me to ask you.”
He bristled. Was his friend gossiping about him behind his back? “Sean said I have a chip on my shoulder?”
“No. I figured that out myself. I asked Burke for some background on you, and he said it wasn’t his story to tell.”
“’Cause there is no story,” he said flatly and returned his attention to the steaks. He had to set his plate on the counter to transfer the mouthwatering piece of meat from the platter. Having his left arm out of commission was going to be a royal pain.
“Right.” Stone picked up a plate, too. “The path to the guesthouse starts behind the pool grotto at the rose garden. It’s lit and runs about a hundred feet. It’s safe. My whole place is wired so I know the instant anyone crosses the property line. I’ll unlock the door from here and watch on the monitor until you’re safely inside. The instructions to create a temporary code are on the security panel next to the front door. Always set the alarm. The guesthouse also has two cameras and monitors tied into the main system.”
Luke snorted. “So you can spy on us?”
Stone glowered at him. “No, I don’t get off as a voyeur.”
Reminding himself it wasn’t wise to piss off their host, Luke dropped the subject. Instead, he plopped a baked potato on his plate, added a slab of butter and a large spoonful of sour cream. A pile of asparagus came next and then tossed salad in a separate bowl. He had to admit the rich guy threw together a great meal.
“The guesthouse has a variety of beverages, alcoholic and non. The refrigerator and cabinets are stocked with essentials. Help yourself. But you’re welcome to eat here whenever you want,” Stone said and finished filling his own plate.
Luke’s left arm was starting to ache, so he set his plate on the counter and slid onto a tall stool. “So, what’s your story, Stone? Sean won’t say much about you or Angela’s case. Of course, I heard the shit on the news after you two solved it. But I figured half of it wasn’t true. Even a poor, hick deputy knows you can never trust reporters.”
“You’re right, Luke. And you must never forget it,” Elle said from the doorway.
* * *
After Jake had given Elle a large tray to carry all the plates and bowls, Luke had led the way to the guesthouse, past the blooming rose garden and bougainvillea hedge. She’d followed behind, too hurt by his comment to walk beside him. Despite his comforting manner after the upsetting call with her mother, he obviously still painted her with the same brush as all other reporters.
Now they ate in silence at a small table in the guesthouse. Only twenty minutes earlier, she’d decided to have sex with Luke, not just life-affirming sex, but real sex. The guy was hot with his baby blues and surfer-boy blond hair, but she’d discovered he also had depth. Courage, integrity, and kindness were just a few of his admirable traits. On top of everything else, he had risked his life to save her from the kidnapper. How could she not be attracted to him? Besides, wanting sex didn’t mean she wanted something more. Why would she when her whole life was in limbo?
None of it mattered now. She’d been betrayed. Twice in one evening. First, by her mother, and then, by the man she wanted to sleep with. Apparently, she shouldn’t count on anyone.
In a stolen glimpse, she caught Luke grimacing in pain. Stubborn man. “Would you like more ibuprofen?” she asked politely.
“No. I’m fine.” He kept his gaze fixed on his plate.
Her appetite, which had been minimal when they’d arrived at Jake’s fortress, was completely gone. Sighing, she pushed back her chair, picked up her barely touched plate, and carried it to the kitchenette counter. On a hunch, she checked the cabinets and found a bottle of ibuprofen. She slapped it down on the table.
“Quit playing the martyr,” she said. “I’m going to bed. You can have the king, and I’ll take the Murphy bed since it’s just a full.”
He didn’t look at her, say a word, or even miss a bite.
Squaring her shoulders, she left him at the table so she could rummage through one of the boxes for her tank top and pajama pants. She took them and her toiletries into the bathroom and slammed the door. Methodically, she undressed while the shower heated.
She tried not to focus on how alone she felt. Valley Center and Ramona, California, were places she’d never heard of before two days ago. Other than Richard, everyone she’d seen since her escape—hell, seen in the past month—had been a stranger. And her loneliness couldn’t be cured by going home because Washington didn’t seem like a sanctuary anymore. Her mother didn’t support her, and her father straddled the fence, trying not to fall off into the crap on either side. Even her expensive condo in Georgetown wasn’t b
eckoning her to return. It was a structure, a building, walls and a roof, not a home in the real sense of the word. Luke’s house—as torn up as it was—had more of a homey feeling than her professionally decorated condominium.
No BFF clamored for Elle to come back. As she’d explained to Luke, she didn’t have any real friends. Of course, Richard made a big show of wanting to marry her, but she had always suspected he was more interested in the appearance, rather than the substance, of a relationship. But it didn’t matter. Whatever she’d once seen in Richard, whatever she’d once hoped could grow, had withered and died. She meant what she’d told her mother: She was never going back to him. Being alone was better than being with Richard Carmichael.
By the time she finished her shower and brushed her teeth, she had regained control of her emotions. She shouldn’t be upset about the situation with Luke and his dislike of reporters. When she thought about it logically, she barely knew the guy; and she wouldn’t be around long enough to get to know him. So, honestly, it didn’t matter if they had sex or not. It didn’t matter if he betrayed her. It didn’t matter if he hated her along with every other reporter in the world. Luke Johnson was just a blip on her life’s radar screen, and soon, he would disappear like all the other blips.
The hot, pounding water had washed away much of her angst, a welcome relief since she needed to concentrate on catching her kidnapper. Tomorrow, she would consult with Jake to determine how he could help. She knew too little about the man to have any idea what resources he had available. Luke could come along for the ride—she hoped he would—but she had to let go of personal desires and zero in on getting results. Because how could she move on with her life if her kidnapper was still at large?
With her head held high and her resolve strong, she opened the bathroom door. Like two blue laser beams, Luke’s eyes stopped Elle in her tracks. With tousled blond hair, sand-colored stubble, and a genuinely penitent expression, he stood only a few feet away.
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he said softly. Then he pulled a single red rose from behind his back and held it out to her.
She blinked. Once. Twice. And gulped.
When she didn’t respond, Luke continued. “I…I wasn’t talking about you…you know, what I said to Stone. I don’t think of you as a reporter anymore. I…uh… You’re a…person. An awesome…woman.”
She still didn’t trust herself to speak.
He stared into her eyes for a few more seconds and then let the hand with the rose drop to his side. “My bad. I bet anything less than a dozen is an insult to a city girl. At least I didn’t trigger one of Stone’s alarms when I picked it,” he muttered, shaking his head and turning away.
“Luke,” she managed to choke out past the lump in her throat.
He stopped, looked back over his shoulder.
“A single rose from a certain country boy means a lot more than—”
Before she could finish, his lips were on hers. Hungry. Demanding. With one arm, he pulled her against him. Trying to avoid his sling, she molded her body to his. The feel of his rigid erection aroused and delighted her. To hell with the pep talk she’d just given herself. Maybe, just maybe…
His lips never leaving hers, he waltzed her backward to the bed and stopped. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, the warmth seeping deep inside to thaw the chill of loneliness.
He pulled away just enough to whisper against her mouth. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Elle. I’d never hurt you.”
She gulped again.
He growled deep in his throat. “And if I wasn’t wearing this damn sling, I’d pick you up and lay you on the bed.”
“We can’t let something as simple as a sling stop us,” she said. She pulled up his T-shirt so he could free his right arm and head. After pushing the shirt as far out of the way as possible without disturbing his injury, she ran her palms over his torso. Her fingertips plucked at his golden chest hair, circled his nipples, and counted his abs. Every inch was hard, toned muscle.
She yanked his belt, eager to reach his zipper and unwrap the promising package under his jeans. But Luke snagged her hand before she could.
“Slow down, sweetheart. This arm is gonna put a kink in my style.”
She ran her other hand over the bulge in his pants. “Maybe some kink would do you good, Country Boy.”
“Maybe you need a sound spanking, City Girl.”
Her eyes widened.
He nodded with a no-nonsense stare. “Yeah, you heard me. Now let’s get your clothes off before we finish with mine.”
Luke slid his hand under her tank top. His fingers left tingles in their wake as they caressed her skin, moving slowly upward to her breasts. His large hand completely covered one, kneaded it, and gently tweaked the nipple. As he switched to her other breast, he nuzzled her ear and teased the sensitive spot behind it with the tip of his tongue. She closed her eyes as the titillating sensations swept over her.
“Time to lose this,” he said, grasping the hem of her shirt and pulling upward.
She raised her arms, expecting him to pull off her top, but when it reached her wrists, he twisted the cloth around them, binding them together. Her eyes popped open in surprise. He grinned sexily and gripped the fabric handcuffs to hold her arms high over her head. Then his head dipped, his lips and tongue blazing a hot trail from her neck to a nipple before sucking it sharply into his mouth. She gasped as desire shot straight to her groin. He kissed the tender point before moving to the other one.
“Luke…please,” Elle breathed. “I want—”
“Me, too.”
He lowered her arms before palming her butt, pressing her against him, and rubbing his hard dick into the V of her thighs. She moaned as the erotic motion ramped up her lust. He rewarded her with a deep, tantalizing kiss while he unbound her wrists and tossed the tank top aside.
“Let’s get rid of these baggy pants,” he said. He squatted in front of her so he could tug them down one-handed. When they slid over her hips, he discovered she wasn’t wearing panties. “Commando. Awesome.”
“Why would I wear panties to bed? Actually, at home I wear nothing.” She wiggled so the pajama pants fell to her feet, and she stepped out of them. “There. Better?”
“Damn, you’re hot.” His hand skimmed up one leg and down the other. Then he held her gaze with those amazing blue eyes as his fingers separated her folds and touched her center. “And wet.”
When he stroked her most sensitive spot, her knees buckled, and she sat down abruptly on the bed. He chuckled as he stood up.
“Come closer…if you dare,” she taunted him.
One stride brought him within inches. Reaching up, she let her fingertips walk from his neck, between his pecs, across the ridges of his abs to his belt buckle. After unfastening it, she unzipped his jeans half an inch at a time. When she slipped her hand inside and cupped him, his breath caught, and he groaned. She shoved his jeans to the floor and stripped off his boxer briefs.
He stood naked before her, a gorgeous, golden god. She’d only slept with a few men, and none of them had looked like this. Overwhelmingly masculine. Lean and muscular. Handsome. Tan. And sooo…
Luke cleared his throat. “I’m up here.”
Sheepishly, her gaze rose from his impressive package to his eyes.
“Are you done checking me out because I have big plans for you?”
“Big...plans?” She couldn’t resist the temptation to stare at his groin again.
“It’s even more fun to play with than to look at. Now crawl up to the head of the bed while I grab some condoms,” he said, bending down to retrieve his wallet from his jeans and giving her a great view of his very fine ass.
“Oh my,” she whispered and scrambled across the bed. She pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets.
After rolling on a condom and flicking off the lights, Luke lay down beside her. Gently, he turned her face to his. “Are you sure about this, Elle? I don’t want you to regret anything
in the morning.”
Her insides trembled with anticipation, but she forced a calm demeanor. “I’m good. No strings, no commitments. Nothing more than casual sex.” She paused. “But I want you to know it’s not just LAS.”
“Not LAS?” He studied her for a few beats. “Okay…if you say so. But you’re good with the casual part?”
“Yes.” She gulped and hoped she wasn’t lying.
He pushed up on his good arm and leaned over her. Heat radiated off his body like a hot-stone massage at the health spa. But his heat wasn’t soothing; it revved up her libido.
First, he captured her lips in a tender kiss. She savored the taste and feel of his mouth. Parting her lips, she invited him in. He deepened the kiss, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue before plunging inside.
The guy certainly knew how to kiss. Surmising this talent was indicative of more intimate skills, Elle couldn’t wait any longer and broke the kiss. “Luke, please. I want…I need more.”
Cursing under his breath, he rolled onto his back and slammed his fist on the mattress. “My goddamn arm is a problem. How am I even going to do a decent job on your breasts?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t take points off your score for inadequate breast foreplay,” she said playfully to ease his frustration.
“Very funny.”
“I have an idea. Let’s skip the foreplay and go straight to the good stuff.”
“If you don’t think foreplay is ‘good stuff,’ you’ve been sleeping with the wrong men.”
“Excuse me?”
He rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to demonstrate some other time.”
“In consideration of your injured arm, I’m more than happy for you to keep this simple. Mostly so we can move this along to the climax—pun intended—of this historic event.”
He frowned. “Simple? Like just the missionary position?”
“Hey, at this point, I’m not picky.” She grinned.
He chuckled and then broke into a hearty laugh. “You’re good, Elle. I confess to getting hung up on the male performance bullshit.” He cupped her breast and stroked the nipple with his thumb. “Bring this beauty over here so I can have another taste.”
Only Obsession (Rogue Security Book 3) Page 16
