Reclaim My Heart (32 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
he empty darkness was
a perfect cloak for someone hiding a shameful secret. The clock’s orange numbers glowed 2:47 on the stove. Guilt, like a jolt of caffeine, kept him wide awake.

Lucas stared out the kitchen’s wide bay window. Dim light cast by the thin crescent moon shrouded the yard in shadows. Tonight would have been the perfect opportunity to unload his oppressive burden. She’d opened herself up completely, exposed all she had gone through when she’d been eighteen and pregnant. He could so easily have followed suit.

But after she had divulged her experiences, when he’d learned of the agony her parents had put her through, he simply hadn’t been able to confess the truth.

He’d spent a lot of years harboring anger and bitterness about how Tyne had handled things back then…‌or rather, how he’d
thought
she’d handled things. For a long time, he’d done his best to remember her as a spoiled brat.

Their first arguments as teens had been when he’d voiced that very opinion. She’d wanted a new dress for some event or other, and she’d been spitting nails over the fact that her mother had refused.

“If I’m bringing you as my date,” Tyne had wailed, “she said I couldn’t have a new outfit. Can you believe that?”

The concept had been an easy one for Lucas to understand. Her parents were doing what they could to deter their daughter’s relationship with an Indian. Tyne had ranted on, ad nauseam, about the sorry state of her life until Lucas couldn’t take another minute of her whining. He’d asked her what was wrong with the clothes she was wearing, and then he’d called her a snot-nosed baby. Somehow, he’d fit in the spoiled brat moniker, as well.

He grinned in the darkness, remembering her fury. She’d slugged him in the arm with a loosely closed fist and had jammed her finger in the process.

Later on, he’d learned that she’d run away from Oak Mills—from
him
—and planned to give up their baby for adoption, his first thought had been of the fleeing girl. Taking the easy way out was just what he’d expect of an overindulged princess.

The powerful resentment he’d clutched so tightly had allowed him a certain amount of haughty self-righteousness. Enough, at least, so that he could live with what he’d done, how he had gone about attaining success.

But after these weeks of living with her, of hearing all she’d endured, what she’d sacrificed and suffered in order to raise their son on her own, all he felt was awed. Her strength amazed him, her determination stunned him. Single parenthood would have bested him.

It hadn’t defeated his father. Lucas rubbed a hand over his jaw. His dad would also have been in his late teens when Ruth Yoder had handed over their newborn son and walked away. Lucas had great memories of his dad. As a kid, Lucas had felt loved and wanted and worthwhile. He’d like to think he’d have risen to the task too, if he’d been presented with the opportunity. But he had serious doubts.

Richard Whitlock’s smug face swam in his head, a bad memory that made him scowl. But it was Lucas’s own behavior that absolutely sickened him. He’d been unconscionably quick to snatch the money and run.

He’d meant it when he’d told Tyne that her life would have been easier had she simply gone along with her parents’ plan. However, because of her unyieldinthis leastg resolve he was now enjoying the blessing of being a father, he was getting the chance to play a real role in his son’s life. He owed her a hell of a lot. He imagined telling her the whole truth, pictured the pain and disillusionment that would surely distort her beautiful face and shatter her heart into a thousand pieces.

A light touch on his bare back made him start.

“Sorry,” Tyne whispered. Once he turned to face her, she slid her fingers up his bare chest and rested her palms on his shoulders. “I thought sure you must have heard my door open. Those hinges need oiling.”

Soft moonlight glowed against her creamy skin and made her pale eyes glisten with a mysterious iridescence. Something in her gaze sent a rippling, liquid heat flowing through his body.

Her palms skimmed to his neck, and he marveled that she didn’t seem to notice the fire smoldering just under his skin.

“Thanks,” she murmured, “for listening to me tonight.”

She lifted up on tip-toe, pulled him toward her and kissed his mouth, gently but fully. Lucas thought he might lose his mind.

“Thanks for not judging me.”

Her voice was as feathery as her second kiss. Her fingers slipped up to his jaw.

“Thanks for not being angry with me.”

She kissed him again, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body up tight against him.

“You were a kid.” The words grating roughly in his throat. “A scared kid who was only weighing all her options. I can’t be angry about that.”

She pressed her open mouth to his. Her hair spilled between his fingers like fine silk as he cradled the back of her head in his hand. She tasted like heaven. Her full bottom lip shined in the silvery light that slanted through the windowpane, and knowing the wetness was his had him growing rock-hard.

She stepped away from him and took his hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s go to my room.”

“Whoa. Hold on now.” He resisted, and she turned to look into his face, her hungry eyes eating him up. “Should we really be doing this?”

His heart hammered while he awaited her response.

“You’re not sleeping,” she pointed out softly. “I’m not sleeping. Besides that, I’m horny as hell. Come on.”

He was utterly amazed that her smile could turn brazen and coy at the same time. Now he was sure he’d completely lost his senses, but still he hesitated.

“Yes, Lucas.” She nodded, sliding her free hand over his erection. Then she kissed him on the jaw. “We should be doing this.”

Her silky top felt cool to the touch as he slid his hands under her arms and across her back. He crushed his mouth to hers, and in one swift move, he picked her up, turned, and perched her on the edge of the granite countertop. Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him so close, his teeth raked her lips. A whispery apology rang in his head, but the need thrumming through his veins wiped it out before it had a chance to fully form.

Her legs wrapped around him, her ankles locking at the small of his back. She tightened her thigh muscles and he found himself pressed up tight against her crotch. The searing heat of her made his already explosive desire intensify.

Lucas slid his hands up over her flat belly, gently urging her away from him. She followed his lead and reclined against the window. The pale light from the moon seemed to magnify as it reflected off her long, blond hair. Her eyelids slid closed and the sigh she emitted was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. One of the corded straps of her top slid over her shoulder, revealing her milky skin to his voracious gaze. The sill that braced the middle of her back forced her breasts into an upward thrust. The erotic sight made him salivate. The dalivilkrk circles of her nipples were visible through the cream-colored fabric, the twin taut, sharp points added a tactility that stole away all thought. From where he stood, moonlight gilded her hair, her face, her shoulders, her torso. He wanted to touch her. Smell the scent of her. Taste her sweetness. Hear her breath quicken and know he had caused the reaction in her.

He slid both his palms up over her breasts and couldn’t help but notice that they were larger, fuller, riper than he remembered. Lucas kneaded, more roughly than he’d intended. But to his surprise, not only did she not stop him, she moaned softly as if urging him on. He couldn’t fight the overwhelming desire to taste her.

Bending forward, he cupped one lush breast and laved it right through the silk. Her heart thundered beneath his palm and her chest rose and fell just a little faster. He straightened and took a moment to savor the wet stain he’d left on her top. The fabric clinging to her skin had gone nearly translucent, her nut-brown areola as visible as if she were naked.

Lucas traced his fingertips down to her waist, her hips, and slid beneath the hem of her flimsy top. The lace of her panties was gossamer soft. She lifted one hip, then the other, and he quickly tugged them off her body.

The mound of light-colored curls yielded as he brushed the backs of his fingers across it. The fleshy folds were hot. And supple. And damp.

She rested her heels on his hips, parted her knees, and arched the small of her back. Lucas took his time, smoothing and teasing. The sounds of pleasure—murmurs, groans, sighs—that grated from her throat lit a fire in his groin that one thing and one thing only would extinguish. But they had all night, and rushing this was the last thing he wanted to do.

His massaging became more steady, more rhythmic, and progressed to light tugs and pulls. Without thought, he lifted one hand and inhaled. The musky scent of her was enough to drive him over the edge of reason.

Reaching up, she planted a palm on the glass, splayed her fingers, and strained to raise herself up to him. He knew what she wanted, knew what she silently pleaded for, and he didn’t disappoint her. Lucas shifted her feet to his shoulders, and then he kissed and nuzzled, licked and teased.

Her orgasm was quick. And fierce. He watched the glorious tension in her face, and he smiled. His crystal-clear memories of their lovemaking told him she wasn’t finished, that she wouldn’t be satiated for a while yet.

Tyne panted, dragged her eyes open. Her gaze met his and she grinned at him. She elbowed herself away from the window sill, wincing and muttering, her legs now dangling on either side of him. “That was wonderful, but I’m too old for this kind of acrobatics.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” he whispered. “No, no, no.” Each tiny word was emphasized with a kiss.

“I’m going to be sore tomorrow.” She nibbled on his neck and her lips spread as she added, “But this is worth a few achy muscles.”

Tyne hugged him, caressed his shoulders, his back. “Lucas, this place smells like sex.”

He couldn’t contain his grin. “Yeah, it does.”

“What if Zach wakes up? What if he needs a drink of water or something?”

Lucas chuckled, and then he kissed her, deeply, thoroughly. Damn, if he didn’t feel her naked body against his soon, he would go absolutely nuts.

“Let’s fix that,” he told her. “Let’s go to bed.”

He lifted her knees and she automatically wrapped her legs around him again. Lucas freed himself from his sleep pants, scooted her off the counter, and slid himself into her as deep as he could go. Her eyes went wide with surprise. She fit him like a tight, wet glove, and Lucas feared he might lose all control. He gritted his jaw, determin jaas deeped to rein in his need. At least for the moment.

Desire smoldered in her gaze, and soon she was wiggling and shifting against him. Her brazen kiss scorched his mouth, her tongue inviting him to do as he wanted. “Yes,” she pleaded. “Let’s.”

Lucas carried her into her bedroom and closed the door.

•     •     •

Fresh, hand-pitted cherries sat
in a bowl on the countertop, macerating in kirsch that had been diluted with an equal part of water. In a second bowl, a mixture of flour, ground almonds, baking powder and cocoa had been thoroughly blended. The whites of six eggs were in a third bowl. Tyne crooned a wordless melody as she used a wire whisk to beat the egg yolks together with a couple ounces of powdered sugar in a fourth bowl, watching closely for the ingredients to reach that perfect pale fluffiness.

Although she loved preparing any type of food, everything from vegetables, meats and fish to grains, pastas, fruits and nuts by any method of cooking, roasting, steaming, smoking, broiling, braising, simmering, sautéing, she had to admit that baking was her true forte. Bread was both fun to make, and nothing beat the luscious smell of a fresh loaf browning in the oven, but baking sweets made her hum with pure happiness.

When the yolks were a light lemon yellow, she mixed in melted butter and vanilla, then reached for a rubber spatula and folded in the dry ingredients. The alarm on the stove sounded, letting her know the oven was pre-heated.

She liked to work alone in the kitchen. There was something about measuring and stirring, whipping and folding that calmed her. And after waking up in Lucas’s arms at sunrise and remembering how intense, how carnal, their love-making had been the night before, she’d felt the need to find some way to compose herself. She was waiting at the market when the shop owner unlocked the doors for business, and as soon as she’d returned home, she’d shooed Lucas and Zach out of the house with a promise of something sweet and spectacular.

Zach had peeked into the grocery bag, his eyes lighting up when he spied the cherries, the cocoa and flour. “Black Forest cake,” he’d exclaimed. The confection had long been his favorite.

She’d playfully smacked his fingers away from the ripe fruit and told him to get lost for the rest of the morning.

With the batter nicely mixed, she started whipping the egg whites.

Her thoughts turned, yet again, to Lucas. Her behavior last night had been overly aggressive. She wasn’t sure if that was because she feared he would reject her or what, but once they were in her bedroom, she’d pulled off his pajama bottoms, nudged him down onto the bed and then slipped out of the silk cami she usually slept in. She’d touched him, kissed him, straddled him, fitted him inside her…‌and rode him. Slowly at first, and then with increasing swiftness, as if something or someone were chasing her.

The whisk clattered against the rim of the bowl and she saw that the egg whites were stiff and glossy. She began folding them into the cake batter.

Nerves chirruped in the pit of her stomach as she tried to figure out why she’d been so bold with Lucas, so unreserved. He hadn’t seemed to mind; in fact, judging from his response, he’d enjoyed himself.

Their ruined evening at Reflections interrupted her sensuous musings, and quickly following were thoughts of Vera and Earl Denver. Maybe Vera wouldn’t blab to her mother about seeing her at the restaurant. Maybe.