And then he was walking, heading toward the barn door.
“Too far.” Her voice felt raw. “The mats. By the mirror.”
His gaze slid over hers, setting off another liquid wave, and then he carried her to the folded tumbling mats. They were stacked neatly against the mirror that lined part of the barn, and were as high as any bed and almost as wide.
He lowered her until her feet hit the ground. Whatever breath she had left was stolen when he pulled his shirt off over his head. Without thinking, her fingers reached out to stroke over that wealth of hard, broad chest. Down the ridges of his abdomen.
He gave a strangled sound and closed his hand over hers, capturing it flat against his stomach for an aching second before setting it away from him. “You go any further and this is going to be over before we’ve begun.”
She started to slide the leotard off her shoulders, but his hands got in the way. “I’ve dreamed about undressing you,” he murmured. As if he had all the patience in the world, he slowly…so slowly…drew the stretchy fabric down her arms.
Her knees felt weak. “What else have you dreamed?”
His eyes were hooded as he watched the wide neckline of her leotard reach her breasts. He tugged again and it slid lower, beneath the rigid points of her achingly tight nipples. “This.” His head dipped and his mouth found one crest. Then the other.
She swallowed a moan, closing her hands around his shoulders. “Beck…”
His mouth burned up her throat. Her jaw. His hands pushed the leotard down past her hips. Her thighs. It slipped down to her feet and then he was leaning over her, rolling down her tights.
She closed her eyes, feeling the brush of his hair against her breast. Her belly. She grabbed his bare shoulders before her knees simply gave way.
And then she was wearing nothing at all except the heat that was in his eyes as he looked at her. “I dreamed about this.” He slid his hand along her waist. Her hips. Glided even more slowly over her thigh. Then back up again. Over her abdomen. And lower.
She sucked in a breath as he touched her. She reached for his belt buckle and dragged it free. His fingers swirled. Teased. Her head fell weakly forward onto his chest and she fumbled desperately with his fly, unable to unfasten it quickly enough to suit her. “Wait—” she whispered. “Wait—”
“I dreamed about you,” he murmured. “Wet. And dancing for me.”
Shivers danced down her spine and she pulled away from him long enough to turn in a very slow pirouette. “This kind of dance?” She stepped back to him until her bare breasts were pressed against his chest. “Or this kind?” She slowly raised her good knee, brushing it deliberately along his thigh, then extended her leg until her pointed toes reached above his shoulder.
He made a rough sound, and slid his hand between them, cupping her boldly. “What do you think?” He kissed her calf, his gaze never letting hers escape as he slid one finger inside. Then another.
She gasped, shuddering. And even before she could settle and gain some sense, he was moving again. And then his jeans were gone and he was pulling her down onto the mats, pulling her down onto him, his hands hard and gentle at the same time as he sank to the very heart of her. His teeth bared and he slowly thrust, filling her until there was nothing but an ever-tightening, ever-spiraling pleasure.
Her lips parted, her breath keening, her fingers tangled with his on her hips. Nothing. Nothing had ever felt like this.
“Lucy.” His fierce gaze was hot on hers. “This dance.”
As if she’d been waiting only for that, her head fell back and she cried out his name and splintered into a thousand shining points of ecstasy. And she knew that in this dance at least he was right there with her in that same, exquisite light.
Chapter Ten
Eventually, they made it to the house. And only the fact that Lucy didn’t know when, or if, Caleb would be coming in, did she make it past the couch and upstairs to her bedroom before dragging Beck down to her again.
And it was much later still when they finally went in search of food.
“Are you going to fix me waffles again?” Wearing only his jeans and a small grin, he leaned against the counter while she tried to make order out of the groceries that were shoved haphazardly inside the refrigerator.
She gave him a look. “Are you going to make it worth my while?”
He reached out and caught the sash of her robe, tugging on it enough to loosen and gape open over her breasts. “Honey, I’ve already done that. Three times.”
Her cheeks were hot but she held his gaze. “Didn’t notice you complaining.”
He gave a low chuckle that made every nerve in her body sing. Then he was reaching past her into the refrigerator and pulled out a bunch of grapes. “Here. You can feed them to me one at a time.”
She snorted and retied her robe. “In your dreams.”
“Think we’ve established what’s in my dreams,” he reminded, looking sexy and satisfied and oh-so-wicked.
She plucked the grapes out of his hands and carried them to the sink, rinsing them off under the faucet. “All right, then, Mr. Ventura.” She held up the bunch by the thick stem and wiggled them as she edged toward the doorway. “Let’s see what you’re made of, then.”
He caught her from behind, kissed the nape of her neck through her hair and slipped the grapes out of her suddenly lax fingers. He pulled one free and popped it in her mouth. “My dad and Susan are getting married.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, quickly swallowing the succulent grape. “You’re kidding!”
“They told us at dinner.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. Isn’t it?”
Beck nodded and pressed himself against her.
He’d known she’d be addictive. He just hadn’t counted on how addictive.
“Where are they going to live?”
“They plan to build a place of their own somewhere around here if they can find a property they like.”
She gave him a quick look. “They plan to, or will you build it?”
He gave a casual shrug that didn’t feel entirely casual. “I told them I’ll design it at least.”
She smiled slowly. “I think that’s wonderful, Beck.”
He just grimaced, hoping to hell she wouldn’t make a big deal out of the decision.
It wasn’t as if he planned to hang out his shingle again. Or that he’d been thinking—at all—about Jake Forrest’s new project…
Wanting to distract her as much as himself, he wrapped his arm around her waist and slid his hand inside the robe, landing on a velvety smooth swell of hip.
“Have they set a wedding date already?” Her voice went a little breathy.
“Not quite, but they want to do it within the next few months. Neither one of them can think of a reason to wait.”
She caught his hand before it could get somewhere really interesting and turned in his arms to loop her hands around his neck. “I can tell you on good authority that Weaver has been the home to some very, very lovely weddings. I’m sure your father and Susan’s will be one as well. I wish I could be here to see it.”
But she wouldn’t be. Because after Labor Day, she was returning to New York. To work at the same place her cheating lover still worked.
There was no reason for his mouth to feel sour but it did. And he suddenly felt an urge to make his mark on her; to make certain that she’d know just what she’d left when she went.
He pulled her robe off her shoulders and hauled her up to his mouth, pinning her between him and the wall behind her back. He heard her soft gasp, and felt her mouth open under his demanding kiss.
“Beck—” she whispered unsteadily when the need for oxygen drove him to finally lift his head.
Yes. He wanted to hear his name on her lips. Only his name. And if that made him the son of a bitch he knew he could be, then so be it. He covered her breasts with his hands, felt the stab of her nipples against his palms and dragged his thumbs over them, catching th
em until they pearled even more tightly, turning a deep rosy red that begged to be tasted.
But he didn’t just taste.
He feasted. He feasted and he drove her until she was practically sobbing in his arms, and only then did he shove aside his jeans and plunge into her, taking her right then and there against the kitchen wall.
But if he’d thought she wouldn’t meet his sudden demand, he was wrong. Because even as he took, so did she. And in that moment when he knew he was on the precipice of losing complete control, her glowing aquamarine eyes stared hotly into his and she wrapped her lithe, strong body around his. “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “Don’t stop.”
He couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to.
And he didn’t want to.
And then her eyes fluttered, her lips parted and he felt the exquisite ripples inside her begin to grow. And spread. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders until he felt her nails digging in. And still he drove. Until she cried his name out loud, and those ripples became an endless wave, pulling him under an abyss of pleasure so acute that he didn’t care if he ever came up again.
And after, when they finally made it up to her tumbled bed and she curled against him and fell immediately into an exhausted sleep, he was left staring up at the ceiling, drained and spent.
And it scared the hell out of him.
Not just because he wasn’t sure whose mark had been made on whom.
But because, once again, he was going to be the one left behind.
Chapter Eleven
He was gone when she woke.
Lucy pushed her tumbled hair out of her eyes and rolled over in bed. Even that much movement had some muscles protesting, but it was the good kind of protest. The kind that reminded her well how they’d been earned.
Making love with Beck. Again. And again.
She exhaled luxuriously, the memories so fresh and vivid that she went hot all over again.
She didn’t remember his leaving, but she knew that he would have wanted to be home when Shelby woke. And he would be back that day to continue finishing the addition.
Suddenly energized, she climbed out of bed and stripped off the sheets. She pulled on her robe and carried them down to the new laundry room, inhaling the scent of fresh paint and new wood as she filled the washing machine. She smoothed her hand over the satiny surface of the cupboards that Beck had installed and smiled to herself. Belle was going to love the addition, but Lucy was always going to remember watching Beck put the whole thing together.
With the washing machine quietly humming, she went into the kitchen. The clock told her she’d slept later than she’d expected. Of course, she’d had good reason.
Smiling even more, she started a pot of coffee so it would be ready when Beck got there with Shelby. It was Friday and his father was busy with his AA meeting in Braden, which meant that Beck would be shuttling Shelby around that day.
She tidied up the kitchen from their middle-of-the-night refrigerator raid, then hurried back upstairs to shower and get dressed. By the time she got back downstairs, the sheets were done in the washer and she transferred them to the dryer and hurried over to the barn to get ready for that morning’s dance lesson.
Beck still hadn’t arrived. Not even after the last of the cars came and went, dropping off little girls dressed in everything from the traditional black leotards and pink tights to summer shorts and tank tops.
But no Shelby. And no Beck.
Lucy assigned them a simple dance sequence to practice and called his house. He answered on the fourth ring, when she was nearly ready to give up.
“Shelby woke up with a fever,” he said in greeting.
“Oh dear. How bad?”
“Few degrees.” His voice was short. “I’m taking her to the pediatrician now.”
“Good idea. I won’t keep you, then. How about if I come over this afternoon?”
“That’s not a good idea.”
Something in his voice made her stomach tense. “Why not?”
“School starts soon. And you’re going back to New York. She’s already upset at the idea of your leaving, just like I feared.”
“What’s going on? After yesterday—”
“Lucy.” He sounded ragged. “I can’t do this. Not to any of us.”
Her eyes started burning. “Beck—”
“I’m sorry. Right now, I’ve got to get Shelby into town. The doc is fitting us in between other patients.”
“Right.” Her fingers tightened around the phone. “We’ll, um, we’ll talk later.”
But she realized she was only talking to the dial tone. He’d already hung up.
She stared out at the house across from the opened barn door and marshaled her emotions. He was just worried about Shelby, she told herself. And maybe freaked out about how quickly things were moving.
They could deal with that.
She wasn’t afraid of waiting, if she had to.
Drawing a deep breath, she slipped her phone into the pocket of her loose sweater and turned back to her little dancers. But the second the last child had departed after the lesson with her parents, she went into the house to grab the truck keys where she’d left them on the counter.
She was going to Beck’s whether he invited her or not. And if he was still in town with Shelby, then she would wait.
But before she made it out of the house, she heard the creak of the front door.
Relief swept through her, making her knees feel strangely weak. She left the keys where they lay as she moved toward the kitchen doorway. “You decided to come after—”
“Sweetheart!” Belle dumped the shopping bags and purse she was holding on the hall table and hurried forward, her outstretched arms folding around Lucy before that false relief even had a chance to settle. “Oh, honey, it is so good to see your face!” Belle pulled back, her dark eyes sparkling. “And I’ll admit this now before your father walks in, but I am so glad to be home again. The next time we take a vacation, it is not going to be longer than two weeks, and that is that!” She cupped Lucy’s cheek with her palm and hugged her again. “So, tell me, how is your knee?” Her eyebrows rose. “Caleb informs me that you underplayed the seriousness a bit.”
Lucy was so disappointed that it wasn’t Beck who’d arrived that she couldn’t even summon up irritation for her brother’s lack of discretion. “It’s fine,” she assured shortly. “As fine as it’s ever going to get anyway.”
Belle’s eyes were narrowed, but boots clomped on the steps outside and Lucy’s father walked in, loaded down with suitcases. He dumped them on the floor at his feet, then kissed Lucy’s forehead and swept her off her feet in a giant hug. “Your mother—” he jerked his head toward Belle once he’d set Lucy back on her feet “—never told me that suitcases multiply.”
Belle grinned and waved a hand dismissively. “I didn’t figure that some facts of life still needed to be explained to you at your age.”
Cage swept his arm around his wife’s trim waist and hauled her next to him. “Honey, if you haven’t learned by now that we’ve got the most important facts of life all sewed up, particularly after our vacation, then we haven’t been doing something right.”
Lucy clapped her hands over her ears. “Please, the children are present.” Then she pointed. “Anything I can help carry in?”
“Good heavens, no.” Belle sidled out of her husband’s hold and took Lucy’s arm. “Cage will take care of it. You and I are going to catch up.”
Lucy nearly groaned, but didn’t want to give her father any reason to look more suspicious and shrugged instead. “Let’s do it in your new addition,” she suggested. “By way of the laundry room. It’s seriously drool-worthy. Almost enough to make me enjoy doing the darn chore.”
Belle smiled, and they headed through the house.
Lucy did get a small reprieve then because Belle simply stopped and stared in awe as she took in all of Beck’s amazing work. She touched the cabinets above her fancy washing machine and
dryer with reverent fingertips. “I knew it would be lovely. I’ve been to Beck’s place, after all, but…” She broke off, shaking her head with wonder. “This is so much more than I expected.”
Then she left the laundry room and went into the new family room. She stood in the center of the space, her gaze running from wood flooring to gleaming windows to high ceilings and all of the trimmings in between. “I can’t believe he did so much in such a short time.” She glanced at Lucy. “He must have been working nonstop over here. Was the noise and mess very much a bother?”
Lucy tried not to flush. “Not at all. And he’s been bringing Shelby,” she reminded. She’d told her folks about the dancing lessons when they’d spoken on the phone, though not about how much they’d expanded. “She’s such a doll.”
“She is,” Belle agreed. Her discerning gaze had turned from admiring the improvements to her home to the studied casualness on Lucy’s face. “Beck’s a fine father, but she needs a mother.”
Lucy’s face felt warm. “A few of her friends have started coming to the morning lessons as well. They, um, they all just left a few minutes before you arrived, actually. We’ve been working over in the barn.”
“I know,” Belle admitted. “I’ve heard all about your budding little business from Squire and Gloria.” Then she tilted her head slightly and pinned Lucy with a no-nonsense look. “Now, about your knee.” She nudged Lucy back into the kitchen and pointed at one of the chairs. “Sit.”
Lucy grimaced. “I’m not twelve anymore.”
“Then stop acting like it. I know Dr. Valenzuela has seen you twice.” Belle pointed at the chair again. “Sit.” Lucy sat.
Belle crouched at her foot and rolled up the stretchy knit of Lucy’s dance pants until her knee was revealed. Her knowledgeable, nimble fingers gently felt around Lucy’s knee, the muscles above and the muscles below. She had Lucy extend and flex and bend and point and it was almost like a step back into time.
Lucy finally caught her mother’s hands in hers and squeezed. “This isn’t one that you’re going to be able to help me fix,” she said huskily.
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