Loving Lucas (15 page)

She wiggles nervously, but I grip her legs, holding her in place, burying my tongue between her legs—tasting her. She melts against my face, groaning with pleasure. I lick harder, letting go of her left thigh, sinking a finger inside her. She’s tight and wet. I nip her clit, determined to make her come in my mouth.

“Lucas . . .”
 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble if you wanted to make love, Karlie,” I whisper, adding a second finger. Not that I don’t appreciate her efforts. But I’m already addicted. “Just ask . . .”
 

She cries out again and grabs two fistfuls of my hair. Then she pumps her hips, grinding against my face.
Fuck.
I nearly come. I circle my tongue delicately this time, giving her body a chance to recover. “Ready?” I ask.

She tosses her head back. I smile, then intensify my assault—my tongue lashing and licking, my fingers moving with equal devotion. I’m worshipping her, frantic to please and satisfy her. I reach around her hip and clamp onto her ass, squeezing her soft flesh. Seconds later, I’m thrown into my own battle for control when she whimpers, the throb of her orgasm igniting my passion.

“Holy shit . . .” I hug her legs and carry her inside.

We only make it to the living room before I lower her to the floor and spread her out on her back. She stares up at me, her eyes hooded with desire and need. I unzip my fly, then ease on top of her, careful not to rest all my weight on her. I’m done trying to control myself. Thrusting, I penetrate deeper than I intended. She locks her ankles behind my back, urging me to pump harder and faster. Within six strokes I explode, surprised I came so fast. I roll onto my side, ready to have her again. All night if she’ll let me.

Chapter Seventeen

I agreed to buy Marie a drink at Roper’s since her intuition about dressing up for Lucas was spot on. I’m sporting the only pair of Wranglers I own, a sexy black leather halter top, and my white Stetson. Dressed this way in any other club I’d consider my outfit slutty, but not here. Cowgirls get away with wearing whatever they want. I claim one of the last stools at the main bar and wait for a Vodka Collins. In the mirror on the wall behind the bar, I see Marie sneaking up on me. I smile when she covers my eyes with both hands.

“Guess who?” she asks, giggling like a teenager.

“If you’re not Chris Hemsworth, go away.” She frees me and I spin around.

“Guess you don’t want to see my ring!” She holds up her left hand, where a large princess-cut diamond sparkles in the dim light. “We’re engaged.”

I jump off my seat. “That’s amazing.” I’m thrilled Brandon finally popped the question. “When? Where?”

“Last night,” she says. “After we made love, he went to the kitchen, and brought back a tray loaded with treats and Champagne. We lounged around for a while, then he crawled out of bed and kneeled beside me. We’ve already set a date.”

The dull ache in my stomach tells me I’m lonelier than I ever knew, but the joy in my heart eclipses that pain. Finally, Marie and Brandon are getting married. I pull her into my arms and kiss her cheek. “You deserve to be happy—every day for the rest of your life.” Tears form in the corners of my eyes, but I sniff them back. “Bartender,” I call.

He cocks his head. “Ma’am?”

“Scratch the Vodka Collins. A bottle of Champagne, please.”

Minutes later, we’re cozied up in a corner booth with a perfect view of the dance floor.

“It’s so romantic,” I coo, loving the perma-grin she’s wearing. “What’s the date?”

“New Year’s Eve. And I want you to be my maid of honor.”

“Of course.” I’d have been heartbroken if she didn’t ask.

“And before you say anything else, Karlie . . .” She grabs both my hands. “Brandon and I are in the process of closing on a house. One big enough for the three of us to share.”

“What?” I’m shocked.

“We didn’t want to tell anyone in case the financing fell through. After seeing you struggle to get comfortable at Lucas’s place, we agree the best place for you is with us. We’ve been family since the day we met, Karlie. I’m sorry I coerced you into moving to the island.”

“But—but I’m happy.”

“Really?”

“If you only knew . . .”
 

“Fucking you stupid is one thing,” she says. “Sustaining you is another.”

“I’m well fed.” I pat my tummy.

She laughs, then takes a sip from her glass. “In heaven?”

“More like . . .”
 

“Karlie Augustine?”

I frown, expecting to see Connor. But it’s not. A forty-something man dressed in faded jeans and a brown vest is standing at our table. I eye his long, graying hair and stark blue eyes. “Do I know you?”

“No,” he admits. “But . . .”
 

“She’s not interested,” Marie says.

“My name is—”

“Can’t you take a hint? Go away.” Marie scoots closer to the end of the bench, ready to stand up if she needs to. She’s always been overprotective of me, especially with strangers.

“Sorry I disturbed you.” He tips his hat and limps away.

“Marie.”

She gazes at me. “What?”

“He seemed harmless.”

“Men are never harmless. Besides, did you see that prison tat on his left arm? How did he know your name?”

I shrug; for some reason he didn’t bother me. “From the racetrack?”

She rubs her chin. “Maybe.”

There are all kinds of crazy fans running around during race season. I suck down the rest of my Champagne and refill my glass. “Want more?”

“You don’t need to ask.”

“To the future Mrs. Brandon Sanders,” I salute, confident she’ll have a successful marriage.

Four hours since we made love and I’m hard as a rock again. I can’t get Karlie out of my mind. I climb into the shower, ready to jerk off. I need to build up some stamina—I’ve
never
come so quick in my life. I let the hot water cascade down my face and chest and suck in a frustrated breath. I didn’t want her going to Roper’s alone tonight. The department responds to a dozen calls a week there—mostly drunk and disorderly, but there are plenty of fights, too. She finally agreed to me showing up at eleven so we could have a drink together and dance.

Call me a Neanderthal, but I don’t like my girlfriend hanging out at a bar alone. It’s like dangling something sweet in front of a pack of wild dogs. Men notice Karlie. Not just a quick glance, but with lingering lust. And considering how tiny she is, I’m determined to find a way to keep her safe so I don’t worry about her every minute. Of course if she’ll agree to stay home once the sun goes down, there’s no problem left to solve. I laugh, rinsing shampoo from my hair.

By the time I finish in the bathroom, it’s ten o’clock. I grab a pair of jeans and a button-down black shirt, then sport my black cowboy boots, glad I picked them up in El Paso last year. My cell rings. I look at screen: Willow—again? I answer.

“Who is she?” she asks.

No greeting or news about our son. I sigh. “Up late, aren’t you?”

“Ever since our call the other night, I’ve been trying to figure out what changed about you.”

I can’t stop the burst of uncontrolled laughter. “Nothing has changed. You still have my balls in a vice grip concerning our custody arrangement with my son.”

“He’s better off here.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” I say. “Let me speak to him.”

“He’s not here. He’sspending the night at Mattie’s house.”

Her mother. The woman was never a big fan of mine, and I suspect one of the reasons my ex left. “I expect him to call me tomorrow night, no excuses. He’s missed the last two scheduled calls, Willow. Remember how strict you were about meeting all the criteria outlined in the court order. If I don’t hear from him, my attorney will contact the judge on Monday. Understand?”

I hear her light a cigarette, then take a drag. “Don’t be a prick.”

“You shouldn’t smoke inside.”

“No one is here.”

“Is there any point to this conversation?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I want to know who the new woman in your life is. Did you forget I read you like a book? You sound way too happy.”

“How could I forget? You reminded me every day for years—especially when you accused me of cheating.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“No, Willow, I’m avoiding you.”

“Don’t hang up . . .”
 

It’s getting late. “Let’s spin this: why are you calling me so much?”

She sniffs. “Paul is banging his secretary.”

My heart constricts, remembering the night I found out she was cheating on me. But Willow has a jealous streak, a big one. Any time I came home with a new clothes, it triggered a violent tirade. She was convinced I was dressing for another woman. “You have definitive proof?”

“Phone calls, emails, late nights . . .”
 

“Sounds familiar.”

“Stop it, Lucas. I know what I did—let it go.”

“Can’t do that. It nearly destroyed me. Now you want me to comfort you? I warned you about Paul. He’s not the kind of man who can be faithful. You told me that three weeks after he proposed. Remember? I suggest a stiff drink and some soul searching. Don’t do something you’ll regret later—don’t be too quick to leave. Twenty-eight with two failed marriages doesn’t look good on a résumé, darlin’.”

“Have you considered what your opinion means to me? What it does to me?”

“Have you?”

She takes another pull off her smoke. “Damn it, Lucas, I think I made a huge mistake.”

“I know,” I say, the bitter memory of our breakup stabbing at my heart. We both made mistakes, big ones. Getting married so young, letting our jobs interfere with our personal time, ignoring the warning signs that our relationship was in trouble. The only good thing—our son. “There’s nothing I can do. You chose the man you wanted. You left Texas with
my
son. You lied, told the judge I drank excessively so he’d sympathize with you and award you custody. I’m still seeing a goddamn department psychologist for that.” Anger swirls inside me and my hands shake. “I need to go.”

“Who is she?”

“Not you.” I hang up. Once again, she’s gotten under my skin.

I walk Marie to the front door of the club, give her a hug, then watch her climb into the cab waiting outside. Once it takes off, I go back to the bar to order another drink. Lucas is twenty minutes late. The bartender serves me a Vodka Collins. When I try to pay, he smiles, refusing my money.

“It’s on me,” he says.

“Thanks.” I take a sip. Perfect.

“Never seen you here before.”

“It’s been a while.”

“I’m Kenneth.” He extends his big hand.

“Karlie.” We shake. The music is so loud, I’m nearly shouting. “How long have you worked here?”

“Two years.”

“Like it?”

“Good money,” he says. “And once in a while, I meet a beautiful woman.”

I stare at the floor, then back up. “From what I see, you’re surrounded.” There are hotties everywhere.

He grins, flashing his perfect teeth. “Eye of the beholder.”

“Fair enough.” If I weren’t with Lucas, Kenneth is the kind of guy I’d probably date. He’s definitely a surfer, wearing a Patagonia T-shirt and skater shorts. Not to mention his streaked blond hair and super tan.

“What about you, Karlie?”

“Full-time student.”

“Cool. Major?”

“Political science,” I reply, holding up my hand. “Don’t say it—I must be crazy studying politics.”

“Actually,” he says, “my father is on the city council. I live elections.”

That’s refreshing, meeting someone who understands the governmental process.

“Want to go out to dinner sometime?” He looks at me hopefully.

“I’m already . . .” Someone brushes against my leg. I look right.

Lucas squeezes between me and the guy sitting on the stool next to me, then stares at Kenneth. “Golden margarita.”

Kenneth frowns, throws down a cardboard coaster, and heads to the center of the bar.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused he didn’t greet or kiss me.

“Did you say something, darlin’?” Lucas is acting like he doesn’t know me. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Really?”

“It’s just a drink,” he comments.

I shake my head, trying to figure him out. Did he overhear me chatting with Kenneth? Is he jealous? Or teasing me? “Sure,” I say, deciding to play along. “Vodka Collins.”

Once Kenneth returns, Lucas smiles wickedly. “The lady wants another drink, too.”

Kenneth cocks his head. “Karlie?”

“Yes,” I say.

He wipes his hands on a bar towel hanging off his belt, disappointed another guy has moved in. “I’ll get your drink.” He walks away.

“You’re not very nice.”

Lucas laughs, then grips the back of my head. “No,” he admits. “But I’m extremely aroused.” He kisses me hard, his tongue invading my mouth. He cups my face with his other hand, nearly knocking my hat off.

Just when I can’t breathe, he releases me. I’m speechless and intrigued by this darker version of the man I adore. “Is everything okay?”

He finishes his drink, then stares at me. “Couldn’t be better.” He slaps a twenty on the bar, grips my hand, and tugs me off my seat.

“Burnin’ It Down” by Jason Aldean is playing. Lucas drags me onto the dance floor, twirls me around, then clamps his arms about my waist, slamming his crotch against me. I follow his lead, wiggling my hips, responding to his touch. His fingers snake up my back, tracing imaginary shapes on my skin. Then he nips my earlobe, sending a shock wave down my spine.

“I love the painted-on look,” he whispers, cupping my ass with both hands. “But I don’t like this top.” He thumbs the low-cut V of my halter top.

“Why?”

“Mine,” he growls, brushing a kiss across my cleavage. “Ready to go?”

Surprised he wants to leave so soon, I nod, sensing something happened before he showed up. Holding hands, we walk outside, a cool breeze raising gooseflesh on my arms. I didn’t bring a jacket, so I snuggle against Lucas. He smiles down at me. As we walk toward his truck, I see the guy who approached my table in the club. He’s leaning against an old Ford Bronco, his cowboy hat hiding his eyes, but I know he’s watching.