by Helen Lacey
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you saying you wish you had been?”
Brant shook his head. “Of course not. I’m grateful that I survived. I’m glad my family isn’t grieving and I’m certainly glad I’m here, in this room, with you.”
She shuddered and he pulled her closer. The awareness between them amplified and Brant fought the urge he had to kiss her. He wasn’t going to coerce her in any way. They had heat and attraction between them, and he knew it was powerful for them both, but if they went any further it had to be her decision.
“Brant...” Her voice trailed off and then she inhaled sharply.
“Yes, Lucia?”
“I want to be with you... I do. I want it more than anything. I want you to kiss me and make love to me. But I also want everything else that goes with that.”
He knew that. He knew what she was looking for. Commitment. Security. A life. Probably marriage down the track. He’d never been one for commitment and didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
“Then you decide what you want to do, Lucy,” he said and released her gently. “You know who I am. I’ve told you what happened and even though you might not understand why, it closed off something inside of me. And because of that I won’t make you promises I can’t keep. But I want you...and that’s all I can offer right now.”
Brant turned and left the room. He wasn’t going to deceive her.
He cared about her too much for that.
* * *
By the time Lucy left the Parker ranch it was past ten o’clock. She drove into town with a heavy heart.
I want you...
His words toyed around with her good sense. She should run a mile. She should forget all about him. Instead she pulled up outside the Loose Moose and stared at the big door. She looked up and saw there was a light beaming in the upstairs window. He was home. He’d left the wedding around the same time she had, without speaking to her. If she went inside now they would make love...no doubt about it. If she drove on, Lucy sensed she’d never hear from him again.
And that was...unbearable.
Thirty seconds later she was tapping on the door.
When he opened the door he was still dressed in his suit, minus the jacket. He looked so handsome and his dark hair gleamed in the lamplight overhead.
“Hi.”
His eyes glittered brilliantly. “Hello.”
“Can I come in?”
He stepped aside and she quickly walked over the threshold. The door closed and she turned. He stood excruciatingly still and Lucy’s dangling courage disappeared.
“You look really beautiful tonight,” he said softly.
“I think you said that already.”
He shrugged. “I don’t think you really know how beautiful you are...inside and out.”
Heat spotted her cheeks as she stripped off her coat and placed it on a workbench. “I’m not beautiful...not really.”
“You are to me,” he said and half smiled. “You’re also argumentative and a little stubborn and have a bad temper. But you do look really great in that dress.” He took a few steps toward her. “I should have danced with you tonight. I wanted to.”
Lucy swallowed hard and then grinned. “It was like prom all over again. No date. No dancing.”
Brant stared at her, his gaze unwavering. He came closer and grabbed her hand, linking their fingers in a way that felt so intimate, Lucy’s entire body grew hotter with each passing second.
“Come with me,” he said and led her across the room.
She thought they were going upstairs, to his bedroom, to his bed, and her nerves had her legs shaking. But he walked past the stairwell and toward the back of the tavern. It had once been a pool room but was now filled with several tables and a stage, as well as two new gaming tables. There was a dance floor and jukebox in one corner. Brant didn’t release her as he headed for the jukebox and flicked a few switches before it roared into life. He took a moment to choose a song and then turned her toward the dance floor.
Lucy dropped her bag onto one of the tables and went with him into the center of the floor as the music began. Kenny Chesney’s voice suddenly filled the room and Lucy curved herself into Brant’s embrace. They fit together, she thought as his right arm came around her waist and his other hand cupped her nape. And then they danced. Slowly, closely, as though they’d done it a hundred times before. His hand was warm against her neck and he rubbed her skin softly with his fingertips.
Lucy gripped his shoulders, felt the muscles harden beneath her palms and moved closer. There was nothing but clothing between them and she could feel the heat of his body connect with hers.
And then he kissed her, deeply, passionately, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her mouth.
Lucy kissed him back and heard him groan as his fingers tangled in her hair. She held on to his shoulders and lost herself in his kiss.
When the song ended Lucy pulled back, breathless, knees trembling.
“Take me upstairs,” she said softly.
“Are you sure?”
Lucy nodded. Whatever happened, she wanted this part of him. She wanted his touch and his possession and body next to hers. In that moment, nothing else mattered.
It took about a minute to walk upstairs and into his bedroom. The big bed was covered in a functional blue quilt and, other than two narrow side tables, a small chair and a wardrobe, the room was clearly just a place to sleep. He pulled the curtains together, flicked on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light. Then he unclipped his watch, placing it on one of the side tables.
Lucy was so nervous she was sure he could hear her knees knocking together. But she didn’t move. She only watched him, mesmerized, well aware that he’d certainly done it all before, many times and with many other women. But she didn’t want to think about that.
He tugged at his tie, dropped it on the chair and then began to slowly unbutton his shirt.
She absorbed him with her gaze and her palms itched with the urge to rush forward and run her hands over his chest. He was broad and muscular and so effortlessly masculine. Once the shirt disappeared, his hands rested on his belt and she gulped. Of course she’d seen plenty of naked men in her line of work. But this was different. This was Brant. She was going to touch him. Kiss him. Make love with him. And he would do the same with her. She was suddenly filled with a mixture of fear and wonderment.
“Everything all right, Lucy?” Brant asked as he kicked off his shoes.
She swallowed hard. “Yes...everything’s fine.”
He pulled the belt through the loops and dropped it on the floor. “Lucia...come here.” She walked across the room and he grasped her hand. “You’re shaking. Are you nervous?”
She nodded. “A little.”
“Don’t be,” he said as gently swiveled her around. “We’ll just take it slow.”
His fingers found the tab of her zipper and he slowly eased it down. His mouth brushed across her shoulder and she moaned, overwhelmed by the sheer longing she felt for his touch. The gown slipped off her shoulders and fell to her feet. She stepped out of it and inhaled as she turned to face him.
“You’re so...” He raked his gaze over her, taking in the red-lace bra and matching thong she’d bought on a whim months earlier and was suddenly very glad she’d teamed with the red dress.
Normally, Lucy was self-conscious of her curves. She never dressed overtly sexy and her underwear was usually the sensible nondescript kind. But the desire in his eyes was hot and real and made her skin burn.
She flipped off her heels and stood in front of him. “I can’t believe we’re here.”
“Believe it,” he said and tugged her closer. “I’ve thought of little else for weeks.”
His words enflamed her and Lucy abandoned her n
erves and accepted his kiss. They were on the bed seconds later and she was breathless as his hands caressed her from knee to rib cage. His kissed her throat, her shoulders and the curve of her breasts. Her entire body was on fire and her hands clamored to touch him. She felt his heart beat madly in his chest, twirled her fingers on the trail of hair on his belly and heard him suck in a sharp, agonized breath. He was as weak for her touch as she was for his and the knowledge gave her courage. She didn’t feel out of her depth. Touching him felt like the most natural thing in the world.
He dispensed with her bra quickly and touched her breasts with his hands and then his mouth. It was delicious, exquisite torture, and she threw her head back as his tongue toyed with one nipple and then the other. He pushed her thong down her hips and for the next half hour he gave but didn’t take.
He kissed her, caressed and stroked her skin. He touched her with his hands, his fingertips and his mouth to the point that every inch of body was übersensitive to his touch. She clung to him. She whispered words she’d never imagined she would utter to another soul and experienced such narcotic pleasure than she was quickly a quivering mass of need.
He knew, somehow, that the sensitive skin behind her knee was an erogenous zone and his touch there made her head spin. He knew that trailing his tongue along the underside of her breast would drive her wild. And, finally, when he touched her intimately, she was so aroused she almost bucked off the bed begging for him to give her the release she suddenly craved. As inexperienced as she was, Lucy somehow knew what she wanted.
“Please,” she begged and met his mouth hungrily.
“Not yet,” he said with a raspy breath as he caressed her gently. “We have all the time in the world. There’s no need to hurry, Lucia.”
There was every need. She wanted to feel him above her, around her, inside her.
But he knew what he was doing. There was a gentle rhythm in his magical touch as he continued to stroke her. And then she was gone, caught up in a vortex of pleasure so intense she thought she might pass out. She moaned and said his name, felt her entire body shudder as she came back down to earth. It was beautiful, frightening, overwhelming...and she knew there was more.
When her hands stopped shaking, she fumbled with the button and zipper on his trousers. She heard laughter rumble in his chest at her eagerness and he quickly took over the task. In a second he was naked and above her, chest to breast, his arousal undeniable.
He reached across the bed and grabbed something from the bedside table. When she realized he had a condom in his hand, she blushed wildly.
“Oh... I didn’t think about that,” she said suddenly self-conscious.
He chuckled. “Now, Doctor, I don’t have to tell you how babies are made, do I?”
Lucy’s heart did a backflip at the very idea of having his baby. It was one of the things she wanted most in the world.
“Ah...no. Just caught up in the moment, I guess.”
He smiled and kissed her. A deep, drugging kiss that had possession stamped all over it. And she didn’t mind one bit. She wanted to be his. She longed for it. Right then and all night long. And forever.
He moved over her and Lucy ran her hands eagerly down his back, urging him closer. She closed her eyes and waited. She knew there would be pain, knew her inexperienced body would resist at first. But she wanted him so much, needed him so much, any fear quickly disappeared. He hovered over her, kissing her neck, her jaw, her mouth, and Lucy welcomed him.
He stilled, rested his weights on his arms and stared down into her face. “Everything all right?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“You’re tense,” he said and kissed her again. “Relax.”
She tried and when he finally was inside her she felt a sharp, stinging pain that made her wince.
He stilled again, more pronounced this time, and his gaze sharpened. “Lucy?” There was query and uncertainty in his voice. And he still didn’t move. “What...are you...have you never—?”
“Brant.” She said his name urgently, cutting off his words. She held on to his shoulders when she felt him withdraw. “No...don’t...please...stay with me.”
He knew.
And for a moment she thought she’d lost him.
His gaze bore into hers, absorbing her, asking the question and getting the answer he clearly hadn’t expected.
“Lucy...” He said her name again, as if he was torn, unsure.
She gripped him hard and pulled him closer. “Don’t leave me.”
He gaze wavered and it seemed to take an eternity for him to relax. But he did, finally. He stayed, and that was all she cared about. She felt complete for the first time in her life. Lucy wrapped her arms around him and urged him toward her intimately. He moved against her, kissing her mouth with a mixture of passion and disbelief. And she drew strength from his mixed emotions. She kissed him back. She touched him. She told him what she wanted. She matched him. They continued that way, moving together, creating a rhythm that was mind-blowing. And when release came again it got them both. Lucy held on as he shuddered above her, loving him with all her heart as she got lost in a world of pleasure so gloriously intense she could only say his name on a sigh.
When it was over, he moved and rolled onto his back. Lucy stayed where she was, breathless and still mindless from the tiny aftershocks of sensation pulsing over her skin. After a few minutes, Brant got up and disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned Lucy still lay on the bed, a sheet half draped over her hips.
He sat on the end of the bed and his skin dappled golden in the lamplight. Lucy reached out to touch him and he flinched. Then he looked at her. There was no mistaking it. He was angry.
“Brant, I—”
“That was your first time?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “Yes, but—”
“Goddamn it, Lucy! You should have told me.”
“It doesn’t—”
“Whatever you’re going to say,” he said, cutting her off as he got to his feet and pulled on a pair of jeans that were on the chair. “Just save it. Because if you think it doesn’t matter, you’re wrong. It matters, Lucy. It matters so damn much.”
He walked out of the room and she heard his feet thump on every stair. Once he was downstairs she stretched and sighed. Her body was still humming, still remembering every touch. She’d imagined making love with Brant countless times and being with him had exceeded anything she’d imagined. She had never expected to feel such a deep, fulfilling connection to another person. If she’d ever doubted that she was in love with him, those doubts were now well and truly gone.
Lucy sat up and swung her knees over the edge of the bed. He was angry and, in typical Brant fashion, when he was mad he closed down. And since Lucy preferred to face an issue head-on, she knew they had to talk.
She got up, grabbed the shirt he’d discarded and slipped her arms into the sleeves. It felt warm against her skin and the scent of his cologne clung to the fabric. She made a bathroom stop. She was still a little tender, but he’d been so gentle with her she knew it would pass quickly. Then she took a deep breath and headed downstairs.
* * *
Brant rarely drank hard liquor anymore. But he downed a second belt of bourbon and let the heat slide down his throat.
He was wound up. He couldn’t sit still. He paced the rooms downstairs and tried to work out what he was feeling. Guilt. Confusion. Disbelief.
I should have known.
The words kept chanting in his head.
There had always been something innocent about Lucy Monero. She was an intriguing mix of confidence and coyness. Her kisses were sweet and making love to her had been like nothing he’d felt before. Her touch hadn’t been tentative, but exploring, inquisitive...like she was experiencing something new and exciting. Of course, now he knew
why.
A virgin.
He could barely believe it. Okay, so she was kind of wholesome. But she was also twenty-seven. And a successful doctor who’d gone to college and medical school and had lived a full life. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined she would be untouched.
“Brant?”
He looked up. She stood silhouetted in the doorway. She was wearing his shirt and with the light behind he could make out every curve and dip of her naked body beneath. His libido spiked instantly. Her hair was mussed and loose around her shoulders and he couldn’t help but remember how he’d fisted a handful of her beautiful locks and kissed her throat and neck and breasts. He’d wanted her as he’d never wanted anyone before. Damn...he still wanted her. Everything about her was pure invitation...her skin, her lips, her curves. She was so lovely. So sweet. And sexy, too, even though he was pretty sure she didn’t know it.
Brant shook off his thoughts and sat on the edge of one of the tables. He knew they needed to talk. But first he had to ensure she was all right. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She stepped closer and the light behind turned the shirt translucent. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “We need to talk about this, Lucy.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I know you’re angry and—”
“I’m not angry,” he said. “I’m a little confused. Frankly, I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
She shrugged. “Well, it’s not the kind of thing that generally comes up in conversation.”
“You’re twenty-seven years old,” he said flatly. “And up until half an hour ago, you were a virgin. I think that warrants some kind of conversation, don’t you?”
She took a few more steps. “Okay... I probably should have said something.”
“Probably?”
“All right,” she said on a sharp breath. “I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“It is a big deal, Lucy,” he said quietly. “And if you’ve waited this long, you know that.”
