Loving Lucas (9 page)

“Please don’t see Connor again.”

Right now I’d agree to anything if he promises to kiss me again. My eyes flutter open, and I’m barely hanging on to reality. We’re standing in the parking lot. Why can’t it be his bedroom? “I won’t.” I don’t make promises I can’t keep. And the more I’m around Lucas, the easier it is to recognize my time with Connor for what it truly was: an abusive relationship where I had no power. With Lucas, even though everything is so new, I feel safe, respected, and appreciated.

He nods. “Ready to go
home
?”

He accentuates
home,
and I like it. He takes my keys, unlocks my truck, and waits until I slide in before he gives them back to me. As he closes the door, I start the engine and roll the window down.

“I’ll follow you.”

I agree and roll the window up, flipping the AC on. Another humid day in South Texas. Once we reach South Padre Island Drive, I peek in the rearview as often as possible. I love how he looks perched on that bike. His casual manner, that arrogant familiarity, as if the motorcycle is an extension of his body. A half hour later I pull into the driveway, knowing full well we’re not going out for dinner tonight.

I park my bike behind her truck. If I get my wish, we’re not going anywhere tonight. I climb off and meet her at the front door.

“I have a confession to make,” she blurts.

I suck in a breath, worried she’s having second thoughts about living here. “Should I sit down?” I push the front door open and she steps inside.

“No,” she laughs. “It’s nothing
too
serious,
I hope.
”

I drop my keys on the table in the entryway, waiting patiently for her to finish.

“I snooped in the garage after you left and nearly had an orgasm when I found your bikes.”

I chuckle, imagining what she’d look like writhing beneath me while screaming in ecstasy. “That’s it?”

“No,” she says like a little girl caught doing something wrong. “I touched it.”

“Touched what?” Now I’m turned on.

“Your Triumph—which I must say is a beautiful piece of machinery . . .”
 

“And?”

“That Ducati.” She gazes up at me, her eyes wide with excitement. “That Ducati,” she repeats. “Oh. My. God.”

“Do you want me to take you for a ride?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to ride me or the bike?”

She considers it, staring toward the garage, then back at me. “Do you really need to ask? There’s no contest—how could I turn down a chance to straddle an 1199 Panigale R?”

“I’m crushed, darlin’.” I stagger backward and clutch my chest, careful not to smile. “All this time I thought you wanted me, but it’s really my bike.”

“Have an extra helmet?”

“In the garage.” I grab my keys again. “Follow me.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re cruising around South Padre Island, her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, her firm breasts jammed into my back. If I had it hard before, I’m fucking suffering now. I want Karlie.

I pull off the main road, turning onto one of the many side streets with random condos or shacks, mostly time-shares or weekend getaways for locals. This road leads right to the water. I park the bike, climb off, and wait for Karlie to join me, but she stays perched on my motorcycle.

I gently knock on her helmet. She stares up at me. “Still with me?”

She gives me a big grin. “Wow.”

God,
I love when she smiles like that, not a care in the world. “Awesome ride, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe how fast you can accelerate, how smoothly you move through the gears. I didn’t even feel it.” She takes off her helmet and hands it to me.

“That’s the difference between American and Italian engineering. Though both have my appreciation, Italian machines are so responsive, light, and easy to maneuver.”

Another mischievous smile. I love where her naughty mind is going—I could just as easily be describing her. “You’re a spinner, baby.”

“Ha!” She deflects my comment with a wave of her hand, heading for the sand.

I hang her helmet on the backseat and jog to catch up with her. Her long hair is whipping in the wind and the sunlight accentuates the rich auburn. I shove my hands in my pockets, tempted to run my fingers through her soft strands.

“I love it here,” she comments.

“Me too.”

We both stare at the water, the sound of rolling waves seeming to affect us in the same way.

“I’m sorry I upset you, Lucas.”

I gaze down at her. “You scared me, Karlie.”

“I scared myself,” she confesses. “Once I heard his voice on the phone, I got so angry—I just wanted a chance to stand up for myself in person. Of course he got the better of me, tempting me with a silly pair of earrings.”

I slip my arm around her waist. “It’s okay to want something back that was yours. Believe me, I know how it feels to have everything ripped away. But in your case, your physical well-being is more important than material things. Start thinking offensively, baby; otherwise, that piece of shit will take advantage of your heart.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but it’s in my nature to protect—and believe me, I’ll do anything it takes to keep you safe. Even if we’re just roommates or friends.”

“Or lovers?”

Yes, especially if we’re lovers.
Without warning, I scoop her up and run for the water.

She screams—laughing and kicking her feet.

I act like I’m going to drop her in the surf, so she clings to me, her small hands anchored to my neck. “One.” I swing her. “Two . . .” I do it again.

“Don’t you dare throw me in the water!”

“Or what?”

Her eyebrows raise. “I’ll kick your ass.”

“I like that idea.”

“Lucas!”

“All right.” I give in and set her on her feet. Then I offer her my hand and we take a slow walk down the beach. There’s no one around, and for a few minutes, I feel like this is my personal paradise: the warm sun, fresh air, quiet, and the beautiful woman beside me, lost in her own private thoughts. What goes through that brilliant mind of hers when she gets quiet? Is she thinking about me? Us? Her past?

“This is the way life is supposed to be,” I say.

“In a book or movie, maybe.”

“No, Karlie, real life.”

“Then I look forward to living for the first time.”

She averts her eyes, and I don’t say anything else. She’s so strong and delicate at the same time, so unsure of herself, so desperate to find a place in the world. I want to kiss all that pain away, share some happiness with her.

She digs around in the sand, selecting a few shells and then tucking them in her pocket. “Thank you for bringing me here. I feel better.”

“So do I.”

When we get home, she’s surprisingly quiet. I lock the door, and when I turn around, she’s still there, staring at me wide-eyed.

“Karlie?”

“I-I . . .”
 

That little stutter reveals more than anything she’s ever said. Like a heat-seeking missile, my body connects with hers. She’s so tiny that I have to pick her up so our lips can meet. Her ankles lock behind my back and I carry her upstairs, straight to my bedroom. I set her down, all my attention focused on her. On what’s about to happen, the fantasy I’ve had since the moment I met her at the track. But it’s not just a physical drive; it’s about healing, too—I feel that deep inside. It’s almost tangible.

“Are you sure?” I ask. There can’t be any doubt—I want her so fucking bad.

“Yes.” She doesn’t blink.

It’s time. I kick my shoes off, stripping down to my underwear. Her gaze is locked on my crotch. I groan, latching on to her waist, pulling her against me. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” I whisper near her ear. I want her to know that, to believe how incredible she is, and to understand that I don’t take this lightly. If I wanted a mindless fuck, I’d pick up a girl at a bar. She shivers. “I’m going to take your dress off now.”

I take a step back, slowly lowering the straps of her black embroidered sundress. There are no no buttons or belt; it slides down her slim thighs, pooling at her feet. I lift her by the waist, settling her at the end of the bed. She’s wearing a black lace bra and panties. I drink her in—loving the generous swell of her breasts and her flat stomach. I grit my teeth. How could anyone do anything but worship her? She kneels on the end of the bed, reaching up. I lower my head and she loops her arms around my neck. I kiss her greedily, our tongues twirling together.

She’s perfect, beautiful and soft in all the right places. Whatever changed her mind I don’t know, but I recognize it for what it is: a precious gift of trust.

Desire flows through me as I reach around and unhook her bra. She wiggles out of it, letting it fall on the floor. I chew on the inside of my lip, carnal need welling up within me. I palm her breasts, flicking my thumbs over her hard nipples. “You’re perfect, so fucking beautiful it hurts to breathe.”

She throws her head back, and that’s when I lose all control. I suck her nipple into my mouth, my fingers working the other. I follow the circle of her tattoo, leaving a trail of hot wet kisses. She digs her fingernails into my back, her little pleasure-filled cries spurring me on. I lift her breasts then, squeezing them together, admiring the lush pale valley between them.

I hide my face, kissing and licking, biting and pinching my way down her stomach. She tastes like vanilla. Every inch of her skin is fragrant and fucking sweet. That’s when I hit the thin lace barrier. She’s still on her knees, her eyes shut.

“Karlie . . .”
 

Her eyes pop open, filled with fire and lust.

“Lay back, darlin’.” She does.

I crawl over her, grip her hips, and then slowly slide her up the mattress. When she tugs my underwear down and cradles my cock with both hands, caressing and exploring its length, I growl.
Sweet Jesus
. . . I shift, straddling her legs. My gaze drifts over her body, so unbelievably beautiful. And she’s mine now. Something I intend on making abundantly clear before I take her.

“Look at me, Karlie.”

She raises her head.

“If we do this . . .”
 

“I want to be with you,
only you.
”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, her lips parted in invitation.

I tear her panties off, burying my face between her thighs. Soft red curls tickle my chin as I submerge my tongue, my fingers tickling her clit at the same time. She writhes and screams my name. I insert my thumb, gently stroking, circling inside her, loving how wet and tight she is. I thrust deeper, moving my tongue up her snatch, until I snare her clit between my teeth. I nibble a little harder than I should and she kicks her feet. I do it again, eliciting the same wild response. Again. She yanks my hair. I’m relentless, in pursuit of that goddamned liquid heat of her orgasm.
Come in my mouth.
I want to be the first man to ever make her quiver and scream.

“Lucas . . .”
 

I suck her clit hard, sliding my thumb in and out, tickling her lips with my fingers. That’s when she explodes; her cries nearly set me off. She pulses around my tongue and I absorb her pleasure, desperate to be inside her.

When I crawl up her body again, she’s staring at the ceiling, smiling.

“Did it feel good?”

She raises her head. “I-I didn’t know,” she says in awe.

“That’s just the beginning,” I promise. I roll off her, yanking my underwear off. “Protection—” I start.

“On the pill.”

“Condom?”

She shakes her head. “Please—I haven’t been intimate with him for months. I’ve been . . .”
 

I cover her mouth with mine, driven by jealously and selfish desire. I don’t ever want to hear his fucking name again, especially in my bedroom. I swallow her words, drawing her tongue into my mouth, repositioning myself between her legs. She spreads them wide, granting me access.

“Now, Lucas—please.”

The tip of my cock rests at her opening and I can feel her slick heat. I swallow, savoring the moment, ready to make her mine.

Then I thrust inside her, but she cries out. I freeze, staring down at her. “Did I hurt you?”

“You’re so thick,” she says.

I almost laugh because she’s so tight. Almost
too
tight. I rotate my hips, sinking deeper, careful not to hurt her again. A few seconds later, now fully encased, I ravage her mouth, nibbling her lips, our tongues exploring shamelessly. She’s so hot, and she doesn’t know what effect she has on me. This is beyond simple chemistry. There’s something deeper between us; I feel it. Then I hammer into her, and she yields to my strokes, cupping my ass cheeks, tugging me closer. I strike again.

“Faster,” she pleads.

The hot friction makes me crazy. I thrust again and again—months of pent-up frustration, days of unanswered Karlie lust seeping out of me bit by bit.
Holy shit.
I go rigid, ready to burst. She slams her hips against me, her fingernails digging into my neck. I answer with several half strokes, and then strike deep. That’s when she moans again, hugging my middle with her legs, encouraging me to finish. I do; we come together. I frame her face between my hands, breathing in her scent—pinning her eyes with mine. I’m lost in fucking blue as I ejaculate inside her.

Chapter Ten

As tradition dictates, I’m supposed to meet Marie at the dining hall before class. I arrive early and take a quick walk to the waterfront. Sunrises here are spectacular, and if I’m really in the mood, I can cast a couple of lines and catch some fish. Today, though, I’m more interested in the landscape. A few wildflowers are still blooming in the brush and I spot a piece of driftwood nearby. I pick it up, imagining how old it is, where it was before it washed up on shore. South America? Africa?

I shield my eyes from the sun and gaze at the campus. The whitewashed buildings stand out against the gray sky. I can see cars turning into the parking lots and people rushing inside to grab breakfast. I’d rather stay outside today. I drop the driftwood and close my eyes when a couple of seagulls screech. Waves hit the shore and the constant breeze whips my hair in every direction. I take a deep breath, grateful I’m here.