Love Story
Page 44
I take a sip of coffee. “About?”
She chews her lip harder. “What just happened. How I feel. How you feel.”
I smile slightly because she looks adorably frustrated. Lucy Hawkins has always been that girl who knows exactly what she wants.
I doubt that confused has ever been in her vocabulary, and I’m oddly pleased to know that I’ve caught her off-balance. Because I’ve spent most of my life being put off balance by her. Fair is fair.
And yet confused isn’t enough. I want more.
Not that it matters.
I’m not the guy for her. Even if I wanted to be, there’s not a damn thing I could do to keep her. Lucy’s still got her big dreams and expensive taste, and I’m always going to be the man in jeans and a dirty T-shirt, not the guy in the custom-made suit who schmoozes with Napa’s elite.
“I guess it’s good we got it out of our system,” she says thoughtfully. “Maybe now we can move on.”
I take a sip of my coffee to hide the wince.
“Right?” she says, noting my silence.
I lift the cup in mocking salute. “Sure.”
“Reece.”
“Look, Lucy. I’m a dude. I really don’t want to talk about any of this.”
“Because it was just sex. Just one night.”
“Just sex,” I say, relieved when I don’t hesitate and give away the fact that it was the best sex. That it felt like it mattered.
She smiles a little in relief, and the devil in me can’t shut up. “Really good sex though.”
My voice is gravelly and her green eyes darken. “Yeah.”
Her tongue touches the corner of her mouth, and the fact that I know the gesture to be instinctive rather than intentional seduction makes it all the hotter.
Shit. I’ve never stood a chance against this girl. Never.
I set my empty coffee cup on the nightstand and reach out and hook a finger down the front of her tank top, and she freezes when the back of my finger brushes the inner slope of her breast.
“Reece—”
I have her beneath me before she can finish the sentence, my mouth opening hot and wet against the side of her neck, gratified when I feel her shiver. Gratified, and a little bit mad. Mad at her. Mad that she finds it so easy to discard me and so easy to dismiss what last night was.
Hell, maybe to her it was just sex. Maybe her world wasn’t rocked the way mine was, maybe she’s not half tied up in knots right now, terrified that sex will never ever be as good as it was last night.
Fuck that. If I’m not forgetting this encounter, neither is she.
I’m not careful. My hand tugs her shirt down with so much force the skinny shoulder strap snaps. I’m not gentle as I lash her nipple with my tongue, scraping with my teeth just hard enough to make her gasp in shock before moaning in pleasure.
It takes a few seconds before her hands reach for me, and that pisses me off too, the way she’s obviously reluctant to give in to the heat between us. I grasp her wrists with firm fingers, pinning her arms to her side, as lips, teeth, and tongue work her perfect tits until she says my name in a quiet plea.
Not good enough. I want her desperate. Begging.
I drag the torn tank top down over her narrow hips, taking her black underwear with it. Normally I’m all for black underwear, but with Lucy I’m merely pissed that they’re not polka dots.
Since when has she started wearing black underwear? For whom?
Jealous possessiveness has me handling her with more roughness than I normally would, my hand pushing her legs apart, rubbing three fingers along the wet seam of her before slicking my middle finger inside her.
She cries out, back arching up, pushing a pink nipple into my waiting mouth as I slide a second finger inside.
For all her bullshit about our history and this not working, she’s more than ready for me, but I keep her on the edge.
Deliberately, I show her what I could give her, and then take it away, slowing the pace of my fingers every time she gets close.
“Damn you, Reece,” she says, her voice raspy as she glares down at me.
Damn you right back, Lucy.
“Need something?” I ask.
Her eyes are cloudy with near-orgasm, but she still finds the feistiness to narrow her eyes at me. “Nope. Just wondering when you’re going to get started, make this worth my while.”
I let out a little bark of amusement, and even in my anger, I love that her smart mouth still works with my fingers deep inside her.
“Bored, are you?” I press my thumb against her and her eyes close, but she stays stubbornly silent.
All right then.
I have her flipped onto her stomach in a half a second, ignoring her squeak of protest as I press my chest against her back, nuzzling her ears. “Never got the chance to do this back then.”
“Do what?” she asks, trying to buck me off.
I lift off her, shifting backward and pulling her hips upward as I kneel behind her.
I groan at the site of her ass in the air, run a trembling hand down her slim back. Mine.
My cock nudges at her wet opening, and it takes every bit of self-control not to plunge into her then and there, taking what I want to belong to me more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I thought I wanted her when I was nineteen, but it’s nothing compared to what I feel now.
Still, pissed as I am, I’d never take what she’s not offering, and I stay perfectly still. Waiting. Asking. “Lucy?”
In response, her hips nudge back, the tiniest gesture, but it’s the permission I need to wrap my fingers around her slim hips and slam home.
She chews her lip harder. “What just happened. How I feel. How you feel.”
I smile slightly because she looks adorably frustrated. Lucy Hawkins has always been that girl who knows exactly what she wants.
I doubt that confused has ever been in her vocabulary, and I’m oddly pleased to know that I’ve caught her off-balance. Because I’ve spent most of my life being put off balance by her. Fair is fair.
And yet confused isn’t enough. I want more.
Not that it matters.
I’m not the guy for her. Even if I wanted to be, there’s not a damn thing I could do to keep her. Lucy’s still got her big dreams and expensive taste, and I’m always going to be the man in jeans and a dirty T-shirt, not the guy in the custom-made suit who schmoozes with Napa’s elite.
“I guess it’s good we got it out of our system,” she says thoughtfully. “Maybe now we can move on.”
I take a sip of my coffee to hide the wince.
“Right?” she says, noting my silence.
I lift the cup in mocking salute. “Sure.”
“Reece.”
“Look, Lucy. I’m a dude. I really don’t want to talk about any of this.”
“Because it was just sex. Just one night.”
“Just sex,” I say, relieved when I don’t hesitate and give away the fact that it was the best sex. That it felt like it mattered.
She smiles a little in relief, and the devil in me can’t shut up. “Really good sex though.”
My voice is gravelly and her green eyes darken. “Yeah.”
Her tongue touches the corner of her mouth, and the fact that I know the gesture to be instinctive rather than intentional seduction makes it all the hotter.
Shit. I’ve never stood a chance against this girl. Never.
I set my empty coffee cup on the nightstand and reach out and hook a finger down the front of her tank top, and she freezes when the back of my finger brushes the inner slope of her breast.
“Reece—”
I have her beneath me before she can finish the sentence, my mouth opening hot and wet against the side of her neck, gratified when I feel her shiver. Gratified, and a little bit mad. Mad at her. Mad that she finds it so easy to discard me and so easy to dismiss what last night was.
Hell, maybe to her it was just sex. Maybe her world wasn’t rocked the way mine was, maybe she’s not half tied up in knots right now, terrified that sex will never ever be as good as it was last night.
Fuck that. If I’m not forgetting this encounter, neither is she.
I’m not careful. My hand tugs her shirt down with so much force the skinny shoulder strap snaps. I’m not gentle as I lash her nipple with my tongue, scraping with my teeth just hard enough to make her gasp in shock before moaning in pleasure.
It takes a few seconds before her hands reach for me, and that pisses me off too, the way she’s obviously reluctant to give in to the heat between us. I grasp her wrists with firm fingers, pinning her arms to her side, as lips, teeth, and tongue work her perfect tits until she says my name in a quiet plea.
Not good enough. I want her desperate. Begging.
I drag the torn tank top down over her narrow hips, taking her black underwear with it. Normally I’m all for black underwear, but with Lucy I’m merely pissed that they’re not polka dots.
Since when has she started wearing black underwear? For whom?
Jealous possessiveness has me handling her with more roughness than I normally would, my hand pushing her legs apart, rubbing three fingers along the wet seam of her before slicking my middle finger inside her.
She cries out, back arching up, pushing a pink nipple into my waiting mouth as I slide a second finger inside.
For all her bullshit about our history and this not working, she’s more than ready for me, but I keep her on the edge.
Deliberately, I show her what I could give her, and then take it away, slowing the pace of my fingers every time she gets close.
“Damn you, Reece,” she says, her voice raspy as she glares down at me.
Damn you right back, Lucy.
“Need something?” I ask.
Her eyes are cloudy with near-orgasm, but she still finds the feistiness to narrow her eyes at me. “Nope. Just wondering when you’re going to get started, make this worth my while.”
I let out a little bark of amusement, and even in my anger, I love that her smart mouth still works with my fingers deep inside her.
“Bored, are you?” I press my thumb against her and her eyes close, but she stays stubbornly silent.
All right then.
I have her flipped onto her stomach in a half a second, ignoring her squeak of protest as I press my chest against her back, nuzzling her ears. “Never got the chance to do this back then.”
“Do what?” she asks, trying to buck me off.
I lift off her, shifting backward and pulling her hips upward as I kneel behind her.
I groan at the site of her ass in the air, run a trembling hand down her slim back. Mine.
My cock nudges at her wet opening, and it takes every bit of self-control not to plunge into her then and there, taking what I want to belong to me more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I thought I wanted her when I was nineteen, but it’s nothing compared to what I feel now.
Still, pissed as I am, I’d never take what she’s not offering, and I stay perfectly still. Waiting. Asking. “Lucy?”
In response, her hips nudge back, the tiniest gesture, but it’s the permission I need to wrap my fingers around her slim hips and slam home.
