Loving Lucas (18 page)

“Good God, Marie.” I can’t believe her sometimes. “TMI.”

She laughs. “How’s the noggin?”

“Fine,” I answer. “My back is better, too.”

“Good.” She hugs me. “Let’s go swimming.”

“Now?”

“Yes.
Now.
”

I sigh—there goes my plan to read all morning. “I’ll get my swimsuit on.” I pad to my bedroom and dig through my drawers, finally finding my favorite red bikini.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re soaking in the hot tub.

“Life is good,” she says, letting out a rush of air. “So tell me—what’s happening with super cop? You’ve been pretty secretive, girlie. I want the old Karlie back.”

I can’t deny it. As of a few weeks ago, I’d call Marie if anything happened. Now, I rely more on myself and Lucas. “She’s still in here.” I point to my heart. Marie is the sister I’ve always wanted, my BFF. “I don’t know where this relationship is headed, but even if it doesn’t last, I’ve gained so much spending time with Lucas. He’s kinda restored my faith in men.”

“And Connor?”

“A nightmare. Though you should have seen his face when I was on the ground.”

“I’d rather see it after super cop punched him.”

I giggle, and couldn’t agree more. “Did you get the November fifteenth race announcement?”

She nods. “What’s up with that?”

“I’m sure it has everything to do with Saturday.”

“Maybe we should change your name to Super P.”

I frown, not sure what she means.

“Pussy. You drive men crazy.”

I splash her face. “You’re so dirty.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. Lucas rules my body, not the other way around. Although I’ve gained more confidence because he seems to absolutely worship me, deep down, I’m still the same old Karlie. Nothing lasts. In thirty years I’ll end up a crazy old cat lady featured on the TV show
Hoarders
.

“Calling it the way I see it.”

“You need glasses.”

“Quit being a doubter. Meeting Lucas wasn’t mere coincidence, everything happens for a reason.”

“I don’t believe in all that new-age crap you’re into. The fact that I’m dating another man so soon after Connor should be proof enough I’m giving life a second chance.”

“Well, let’s test that theory.”

I look at her questioningly.

“The annual Halloween bash. Ready to go costume shopping?”

I’m not sure Lucas will approve of me going to a frat party, a really big one. I’m not even sure I do. Everybody gets shit-faced and naked. “Pass.”

“No you don’t. We’ve been going to campus parties for three years together. I’m a senior now—no excuses. Especially the I-have-a-jealous-boyfriend one.” She lifts mischievous eyes to mine.

“You win.” If I refuse, she’ll nag until I change my mind.

Chapter Twenty-one

Lucas gets home by six and dinner is ready. He kisses my cheek as he heads to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “What smells so good?” he asks.

“Wild salmon with pearl couscous, slow-roasted tomatoes, and lemon oregano oil.”

He faces me and I hand him a paper towel to dry his hands with. “Don’t you ever make hot dogs and beans? I hope you never get sick of cooking, or I’d starve.”

He always knows how to make me smile. “Ready?”

We sit together and he tastes the fish. Without a word, he takes a second bite. “Amazing.”

He must have been hungry; his plate is clean before I’m halfway done with my meal. He carefully sets his fork down, then stares at me.

Those dark eyes do something to me, especially when I can’t read his expression. I know we’re still at the new stage, where we watch what we say and do in front of each other. I have a bad habit of saying the wrong thing—but at least I’m always honest. Well, most of the time. When you don’t have a past, there’s not much to tell, let alone hide, so living in the now is the best I can offer. Maybe it’s all he can share, too.

“About Friday night . . .” he starts.

“Don’t worry about it.” I take a sip of sweet tea.

“Willow has been calling me, nearly every day for a week.”

That gets my full attention. My appetite wanes and I frown. Is this where he tells me they’ve agreed to reconciliation?

“Don’t get upset, Karlie.” He scoots his chair closer. “She alleges her husband is having an affair with his secretary. It doesn’t surprise me.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I admit I’m upset—whenever I’m reminded of my own failures, I dwell on the past. Sometimes it gets the better of me.”

“Like it did Friday night?” Was he thinking about his ex when he fucked me in his truck?

“What was that?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“What were you thinking just then—your forehead wrinkled. And those eyes . . .” He tilts my chin. “So sad.”

“You really want to know?”

He nods.

“Were you thinking about Willow when we . . .”
 

“God no!”

His answer quells the fear inside me somewhat, but I can see he’s suffering.

“If she separates or files for divorce, it nullifies our current custody arrangement. I’d seek full guardianship this time. That could mean several things.”

I think about the photo change upstairs, his quiet way of telling me he cares. But it’s not enough. If he’s going to fight for his son, having a stranger living in his house might affect the decision of the judge. And God forbid Willow finds out; she’ll use that information against him. “You want me to move out?”

His eyebrows rise, then he captures both of my hands, squeezing my wrists. “Move out?” He practically wilts. “Come with me.”

Reluctantly, I push my chair back and get up and he leads me upstairs to his office. Then he opens his bottom desk drawer, takes out a large manila envelope, and offers it to me.

“Should I be afraid?”

“Does the truth frighten you? If it does, don’t bother looking inside.” He murmurs something indiscernible and plops down on a chair, watching me closely.

I glance at the package, curious what’s inside. I want to distance myself from him right now; that little voice inside my head is screaming bloody murder.
Nothing lasts. Especially for you. Go while you still possess a shred of dignity and control.
That’s the problem: I’m not sure I do. Lucas rules my body and maybe my heart. But my heart is damaged to where nothing lasts except pain and rejection. The Johnsons proved people are disposable. They raised me with their own children and all I get is a Christmas card now—nothing more, nothing less. I’m worth the cost of a postage stamp.

Without thinking, I open the envelope filled with dozens of photographs inside—of me. I pull several out. They are all black-and-white images of me sleeping, standing in the kitchen, talking on the phone, and swimming.
Oh. My. God.
“You’ve been spying on me?”

He cocks his head. “That’s one way to put it.” He rests his palms on his knees. “I’ve been admiring you, Karlie, memorizing every inch of you. Loving you from a distance.”

I never knew he liked photography, and judging by the high quality of the photos, it’s more than a weekend hobby. “Beautiful.” I’ve never seen myself so relaxed or happy. I actually look pretty, like I’m comfortable. This is how he sees me? I’m touched by his gesture; knowing Lucas paid attention and took the time to capture me in print is wonderful and a little scary at the same time.

“Karlie.”

I look up.

“Did you hear me?”

I can’t move.

“I love you.” He stands up. “Admit it: you love me, too.”

My hands shake, and I drop the envelope. I’ve dreamed of this moment, but I can’t say it. The pictures represent more than he knows—they’re symbolic of something greater than anything I’ve ever known. I’m his world now—it’s obvious; the photos and his pleading eyes say the same thing. “Please, I need some air.” I flee, desperate for space.

Not this time; Karlie is going to face her fears. I follow her outside. She’s standing on the patio, watching the sunset. “Why’d you run, darlin’?”

“Do you know what it’s like growing up without a mother or father?”

“No,” I answer quietly.

“It’s indescribable, but I carry a lot of pain around as a result. The first person who ever told me she loved me was Marie. Four years ago, when we were drunk.”

Her pain is my pain.

“I’m not like you, Lucas. I’m not even sure I deserve you.” She whirls around, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m twenty-one and still don’t have a place of my own to live. Everything I own fits in the back of my Tacoma. What does that tell you? I don’t belong anywhere.”

“You belong here, with me.” I take a step toward her.

“No.” She waves her hand. “You can’t kiss it away.”

“I can, and will.” I’m deaf to her protest. I clamp onto her hips with both hands, tugging her against my body. She’s lovely, and her tears make me want to love her more, harder and better. “Stay with me. Let me love you,” I whisper close to her ear.

I kiss her gently at first, silently begging for better access. She opens up to me slowly, her body quivering with raw emotion. She rests her palms against my chest, not to stop me, but to anchor herself. My heart splinters when our gazes lock; I’ve never seen her really cry before. Maybe with held-back tears, but this is completely different.

God damn Connor and the sorry excuse for human beings named Johnson. I’ll win her trust. My temper surfaces momentarily and I growl, lifting her into my arms. She’s so quiet. I carry her upstairs, then crawl into bed, cradling her on my lap. Tiny sobs escape her lips as I rock her back and forth, whispering in her ear.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Those pictures were my favorite moments, when you seemed the happiest, so carefree and radiant. When you smile, Karlie, I swear the world stands still. I wanted to share those moments with you, show you how inspiring you are.”

Time seems to stand still. And I’m not sure how long I hold her, but when she turns her face toward mine, wetting her lips, eyes wide and glassy, I know what she needs and wants. I need her too, all of her—the vulnerable and brave sides of Karlie are what make her unique.

“Make love to me, Lucas.”

We both collapse sideways on the mattress. She rolls onto her back, and I crawl over her, shielding her from the pain and darkness she fears and loathes. I unbutton her shirt, and once it’s open, my hand glides over her creamy skin. My fingers roam from one breast to the other, gently caressing. I kiss her hard nipples through her lace bra, swirling my tongue over them, relishing how sweet she tastes and feels. She moans, arching into me.

“Lucas . . .”
 

“I love you.” If she doesn’t believe it, I’ll show her.

She reaches up, pulling my T-shirt off. Then my hands are all over her again, cupping her breasts, skating down her stomach. She’s wearing shorts and we remove them together. I eye the lace barrier between us. She shimmies out of her panties and I can smell her arousal.

“Take your pants off.”

I do.

She pushes me onto my back, then positions herself between my legs. I lift my head so I can see her face, wondering what’s flashing through her mind, what she’s feeling. When she leans over and sucks me into her mouth, the world melts. She’s all I can think about, everything I need. I groan as my cock hits the back of her throat. Stroking my length as I glide in and out, she brings me to the edge, only to stop, then start again. She circles her tongue over the tip of my cock, then nips me, over and over until I’m dazed with pleasure.

“Does it feel good?” she asks.

“Like paradise.”

She smiles, tickling my balls and kissing the tip of my penis at the same time.

My turn.

Before she can think about it, I switch places with her, flipping her over. She stares up at me, desire sparking in her eyes. I lift her legs and she rests her ankles on my shoulders, my cock nestled at her entrance. I grind my hips slowly, refusing to rush this. I want to feel all of her. I dot kisses down her throat, then pay homage to her magnificent breasts. Her pink nipples are waiting for me to suck greedily on them. She tastes so fucking good.

Our rhythm intensifies, and she claws at my back every time I sink deep—so I do it again, welcoming the pain because it reminds me of how real she is.
Her pain is my pain. Her pleasure is my pleasure. And now, I want her heart to be mine, too.

Chapter Twenty-two

I’m not sure she understands what love really is, especially between a man and a woman. All her life she’s been bounced from one loveless relationship to another. Never again; not while there’s breath left in my body. She shifts in my arms, gazing up at me. I hug her close, enjoying the weight of her body on top of mine.

“Are you ready to finish our conversation now?” I dip my head and find her parted lips, so lush and inviting. We share a long kiss before I give her a chance to answer.

“Which one?” she asks meekly.

“About my son.”

“Whatever you need me to do.”

“Alex is a good boy,” I assure her. “Curious and bright, loves the Dallas Cowboys and fried chicken.”

“Can’t find that in Minnesota.”

“No,” I agree, loving her even more for saying it. “He can’t.” I’m not sure what’s going to happen in the near future with my son, but I need to prepare. Having Karlie in my life—permanently—is one of the biggest parts of my plan. Meeting that
stable environment
standard that all judges seem to defer to as the deal-maker for custody cases is my other priority. “Do you like kids?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Very much.”

“Do you want children?”

She diverts her eyes, her breath heavy in my ear. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but it’s a legitimate question.

“Enough to man a football squad.”

I chuckle. Does she know an NFL team has fiftty-three active players on their roster? “You might want to reconsider,” I joke. “There are eleven players on an offense and defense. Which do you prefer?”

She shoves upward and I get pinned by a pair of fiery sapphire eyes. “Do you want more kids?”

“God willing,” I say.

That answer seems to satisfy her and she gives me a hard peck on the lips before she rolls off me.