by K. S. Thomas
“Uh, I think so.” And I use the term think loosely. Right now all I can do is focus on the heat his mouth left behind on my own. And chills. Chills all up and down my body I’d love to blame on the cool night air blowing in through the open door, but I can’t. That’s not what they’re from.
“You think so?” He’s clearly not satisfied with my answer, and he doesn’t even know how tentative it actually was.
“To be fair, you did sort of ambush me.” I’m not complaining. I’m not sure if I’m conveying this properly.
“Yeah, I had to. Trying to be subtle wasn’t really working for me. You needed something equal to being hit over the head with a hammer.”
For someone who’s been yelling at me ever since he stopped kissing me, I find him inappropriately hot right now.
“I resent that.” I don’t really. The more time I have to sit with this the clearer I’m becoming on the fact that I don’t resent any of this.
“Resent it all you want. All I care is if it worked.”
“If I say no, will you resort to less verbal ways to clarify it some more?”
I vaguely hear the door slam behind him as he moves me backward through the foyer and into the living room, lying me down on the sofa all while never once taking his lips off of me. This is all wrong. In every way. Except one. It feels so fucking right.
Lucas
“We need to stop.”
No sooner have the words burst from her lips and into my mouth, than I’m finding myself on the floor. Next to the couch.
“Oops.”
She seems briefly horrified about having shoved me onto the ground. Briefly. She recovers almost immediately and begins to giggle uncontrollably, so much she has to grab a throw pillow to cover her face and muffle her laughter.
“I’m glad you find this so amusing.” I try to sound stern. I don’t. I can’t possibly be pissed at someone who looks so completely and utterly adorable right now. Grinning from ear to ear like a dope, I climb back up to slide her over some and join her on the sofa again. This time I’m holding on to her tighter. If I take another tumble to the hardwood, she’s coming with me.
Not interested in talking to her cushions, I yank the pillow from her grasp and find her face flushed crimson red from laughing so hard.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?” I ask, gently brushing her wild hair back out of her eyes so I can get a better look at her. She’s crying from laughing so hard.
“Sorry,” she whispers, slowly getting a hold of herself. “I panicked.”
“Why?”
Her fingers reach up to cover her mouth. She’s embarrassed. “Because.”
“Because why?”
She closes her eyes, like she’s trying to hide from me. “I caught myself...thinking things.”
“What kind of things?” She’s starting to worry me. If she starts talking about my mother one more fucking time, I may never have a boner ever again.
She squirms in my arms. It’s cute. Then her lids fly upward and her eyes roll along with them until she’s staring anywhere but back at me. “Naked things.”
“Naked things?”
“Mostly just naked you.”
“Let me get this straight. You imagined me without my clothes on, and this caused some sort of involuntary reflex that forced you to push me as far away from you as possible?”
Her eyes meet mine on instinct, because she’s about to argue. Then she gets it.
“You tricked me.”
“Had to.” I hold her to me closer still. “You were getting weirded out, and you never feel more comfortable than when you’re fighting with me.”
“That’s not exactly a promising assessment of our future together.”
“I think the fact that you just admitted we have a future together puts us in a much better position than you might imagine.”
She sighs. “Lucas.”
“Yes...”
“I realize that cramming my tongue down your throat for the last twenty minutes may be somewhat contradictory to the things I’ve been saying to you regarding the possibilities...of us, but all the same reasons this is a bad, bad...bad idea are still in effect.”
I brush my thumb over her cheek, slowly moving it back and forth over her flawless skin. “Unless one of those reasons is that you don’t want to be with me, none of them matter.”
“I’m not just being paranoid about our age difference here, Lucas. What about your parents? What about your future?” She’s evading my gaze, her fingers nervously playing with the buttons on my shirt.
“What about my future?” As far as I can see, the only future I give a shit about is one with her in it.
“You’re supposed to be heading into the office alongside your father and grandfather. Destined for a career in the public eye that will include fancy dinner parties, high profile galas and charities at the country club. You really think I’m the girl you want to have standing beside you when you enter into that life?”
My thumb slides down from her cheek under her chin. I raise it up until her eyes are forced to meet mine. “You’re the girl, Liv. No matter where I wind up going or what life I wind up living, you’re the girl I want standing beside me. The only girl, Liv.”
“That was a really good answer.”
“It’s the truth.” I lean in and kiss her softly. “Now then, did we cover all of your current objections?”
“Not even close.” But she presses her mouth to mine anyway.
“Anything else you wanna talk about?” I’ve got maybe thirty seconds left of thinking clearly before all reason is obliterated by the desire to be with her.
“Nope.” I can feel her lips spread into a smile as they move over mine, her tongue sweeping over my mouth, teasing me. “You said none of them mattered.”
I almost miss it. Almost can’t focus enough to hear what she’s telling me. “Say it.”
Her gaze is red hot as she pulls away from my kiss, staying right there in reach, hovering over my mouth, taunting me, torturing me until I can feel her breath as her lips part ways to speak.
“I want to be with you.” Her fingers splay on my chest, both to grip me and still hold me at bay. “Be patient with me.”
“Always.”
“Right now.”
“So...no naked things tonight.
She smirks. “Only mental naked things.”
“I can live with that, provided I can keep kissing you as long as I like.”
Her lids fall shut as she sinks into my chest and murmurs, “Kiss away.”
Chapter Twelve
Heartbreaker
I wake up still wrapped in his arms. This has never happened to me, and I don’t just mean with Lucas. In all my thirty-four years I’ve never woken up in a man’s arms. I wonder if this speaks worse of me or the men I’ve chosen in the past. Am I so closed off and cold to the core that the concept of cuddling has seriously escaped me until now? Or were all the others just total assholes? All the others sound ridiculous. I’ve had maybe three serious boyfriends in my life. One was in high school, so that might not even count as serious.
God, I think it’s me. The anti-hugger. How did Lucas make it past my no hugging rules?
“I see what you mean now about Lucas cramping your style and getting all up in your space,” Madi’s voice rings in my ear loud and clear and I nearly jump out of my own skin.
Lucas’s arms tighten around me as if he’s anticipating another shove to the floor. Much to my own shock, pushing away from him wasn’t even my first impulse this time. I think he broke me.
“Good morning, Madi,” his husky voice greets her from the crook of my neck where his face is still buried under half of my hair. His hot breath tickles my skin. I think now I might be experiencing a sensory overload between the nerves, the physical euphoria and the overwhelming humiliation from being busted by my niece, I can barely form a coherent thought, let alone say one out loud.
“Close your eyes!” I shout, sounding like a cra
zy woman.
“Relax, dude. You’re not naked. Holy shit, did you get drunk last night, or what?” Madi’s condescending tone is only slightly less apparent than her blatant amusement at my most mortifying morning ever in the history of mornings.
“I resent that,” Lucas grumbles, slowly but surely sitting upright. “I’ll have you know that no mind altering substances were involved here.”
“God, I wish.” At least then I could blame it on something other than my own poor judgement.
“Well, thank goodness for that.” Madi’s sarcasm is set at high as usual. “I’m glad to hear it was a clear headed decision that led to my aunt and my cousin hooking up.”
I think it’s safe to say we’re all wide awake now.
“That...that is not okay!” I shake my finger at her in the most parental way I can muster. I suck at being parental.
“Damn, Madi.” Lucas shakes his head, his palm gliding over my calf and I realize half of my body is still draped over his lap, and he’s not doing anything about it, even after we’ve just been accused of incest. Gross.
“I’m just fucking with you guys.” She grins. “I think it’s great.”
Somehow, this doesn’t make me feel any better. “It’s not great, it’s a mess. And you better not say shit to anyone ever.”
A dirty look from Lucas keeps me talking. “At least not until after we have a chance to figure out a better approach.”
Madi lifts her brow at me. “A better approach than being busted sleeping together on your couch? Man, I hope you find a better approach than that. Can you imagine the look on Pru’s face?”
I can. Oh my God, I totally can.
“I need to get up.” I try to free my legs so I can move them to the floor. So I can stand up. So I can not be touching Lucas. Pru’s son.
“You need to calm down.” His arms lean into my thighs, his weight resting in my lap making it nearly impossible to move.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” I screech. Because this idea of being with Lucas suddenly doesn’t seem so hot in the light of day, with reality creeping in on us along with the sun. I like the dark better. It hides things, like inappropriate relationships that could have sent me to jail ten years ago.
One hand curls around the back of my neck and drags me to him, until his lips crush mine and all attempts to yell at him to stop become futile because I no longer want him to.
“You guys are nasty,” Madi sneers somewhere in the background right before she fades away all together.
“Remember now?” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine.
“Uh-huh.” I do. Whatever this is happening between us, there’s no escaping it. There’s only facing whatever comes next. And for some inexplicable reason, he always makes me believe that I’m up to the task, even when I’m trying to convince myself I’m not.
“Good.” He smiles. God, it’s a great smile. Was it always this great? I don’t remember ever noticing, not until five years ago when he came home for my father’s funeral. When he kept me from falling. Or so I thought. Maybe I did fall. For him. All this time he’s been gone, it’s been easy to ignore. Easy to forget. But hasn’t some part of me been waiting for him to come back for me ever since? Isn’t that the real reason I’ve been avoiding dating and men and all the mess that goes with it? Because really he’s the only one worth any of it?
“Are you going to tell your mother?”
“Eventually.”
I don’t know if this makes me feel better or not. “What does that mean?”
His eyes crinkle in the corners, a warmth pouring out of them and into me. “It means you’re not ready, but eventually you will be, and that’s when we’ll tell my mother. That’s when we’ll tell everyone.”
“Oh.” I didn’t realize this was about me. “I could be ready.”
He chuckles quietly, turning his head toward the doorway Madi disappeared through not too long ago. “You’re not ready.”
“Fine. I didn’t handle Madi’s reaction to us very well, but I wasn’t prepared. If I had been prepared, I wouldn’t have freaked out like that.”
“So, you plan on walking into the shop today and telling the girls that you and I are together now?” He’s testing me. Ugh, and I’m gonna fail.
“Not exactly.” Mouth would engage in a ridicule fest from now until Christmas. I’d never survive it. “But I was thinking about telling Sketch.”
“Thinking about telling your best friend. Wow. You’re right. You are ready.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Only slightly.” He smacks his lips on mine briefly, then stands up straight, with me still cradled in his arms. “I promise I’ll get more serious about it after you tell me how you’re going to let me hold your hand when no one is looking. Or how about when you explain to me how I can call and text anytime I like, but that you have to list my number in your phone under Lucy instead of Lucas.”
“What are you doing going through my phone?”
“Fixing my name in your contacts!”
“Wait! Where are we going?” We’re on the move. Already in the hallway.
“Shower. You have to get ready for work and I have to help you wash your hair.”
“I don’t need help washing my hair.”
“Fine. Then I’ll help you wash something else. I’m not picky.”
“You’re not getting in the shower with me.”
“Don’t make me kiss you again, Liv.”
“That’s not always going to work, you know. Kissing me isn’t a one-way ticket to getting what you want.”
A wicked grin flashes on his face. My legs feel weak and I’m not even standing on them.
“Care to test it out right now?”
“No.” I cover my face with both hands just in case. “We can shower together, but no kissing!”
“Whatever you say.” But he’s mocking me again. Even if the water runs cold, I’m about to have the hottest shower of my life.
“Are you going to set me down at some point before we reach the bathroom? I’d really rather not step under the water fully clothed,” I remark dryly as we pass my bed and approach the small hall lined with my closets on both sides and located right outside my bathroom door.
“I don’t trust you not to escape,” he counters, grinning slyly.
“So you plan to weigh me down with soggy wet sweats and a soaked tank top to keep me from running?” Judging by the way his eyes are crinkled at the corners in complete amusement, I’m not helping my argument any.
“For someone who claims not to want to get naked with me, you sure are awfully anxious to get your clothes off.”
I open my mouth briefly. Nothing comes out. I close it again.
We’ve stopped anyway.
Standing in front of the vanity, I can feel his grip loosening as he guides my body to slowly glide down the front of his own. He’s solid. And strong. The heat coming off of him is enough to make me wish for another frozen pea packet.
When my feet hit the cold tile, I look up, expecting some smartass comment from him about my obvious desire to rip off all of his clothes as well as my own. Instead, I’m greeted with such an intense stare, I realize the laughing portion of the morning has come to an end. I may never laugh again. The way my breath catches in my throat, talking may be out as well.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers, leaning in close enough to kiss me, but turning just slightly and missing my mouth, forcing me to suppress an actual whimper. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be kissed so badly in all my life.
“Why?” My thoughts go way beyond why, but why is a one syllable word, utter-able even under duress and while breathless, so that’s all I’m getting out.
I can’t see his mouth anymore because I’ve sunk too deeply into the endless abyss of his tantalizing green eyes, but I can tell he’s smiling again. Not grinning from ear to ear, but smiling without doubt, and the thought warms me to my core in the most pleasant surge of butterflies I’ve felt in
a long time.
“Why do you need to close your eyes? Because you’ve proven to be too immature to handle nudity. And because I said so. Now do it,” he growls softly. And this time, I feel my lids flutter shut before I even give it a second thought.
With a softness hard to imagine from a man, his fingers trace over my skin, down my arms and around my back, coming around the sides of my waist, carefully moving along the hem of my shirt and slowly lifting it. He pauses and I know he’s checking to see if I’ll peek, but I don’t.
The worn cotton glides over my stomach and chest, and my hands slowly reach for the ceiling as it comes up over my face, leaving my body entirely.
His chest brushes against mine as he navigates around me, his hands coming back to my shoulders, trailing down the front of my collar bone and back out around the sides of my breasts, following a path along my waist to my hips and eventually finding themselves anchored in the drawstring of my sweatpants. I feel him tug at the knot, loosening it. Then both hands slide under the fabric, his thumbs hooking into my panties and moving along my hips toward my thighs. They keep going and my pants along with them, and still, I never open my eyes. I don’t need to. I can see it all anyway. Every touch. Every sensation. His scent. His sounds. It’s the most extraordinary, most vivid experience I’ve ever shared with anyone.
Standing here, completely bared and vulnerable, I’m surprised to find that I feel neither. I feel safe. I feel sexy. Beautiful. And wanted.
The warmth of his body moves away from me briefly and when he returns, I know he’s no longer wearing his pants either.
“Can I open my eyes yet?”
His lips brush my skin, along my neck, right below my ear. “No.”
Both hands land firmly on my waist as he begins to turn me and guide me toward the shower.
His arm rubs against my side as he reaches up and starts the water before we step inside. I can feel the mist of cold spray, but it doesn’t take long before it turns to steam. I’d like to take credit, but regardless of how hot my insides are, I probably can’t claim to evaporate water just yet.
Standing behind me, he wraps one arm over my stomach, bringing me to him until nearly every inch of my backside is touching him. Touching him, torturing me. I don’t want to have my eyes closed anymore. I don’t want to have my back to him. Most of all, I’m no longer interested in being a non-participant. I want to touch. I want to feel. Taste. See. I want it all. All of him. Now.
