What Might Have Been (13 page)

Now she realized there was so much more. Luke's ability to keep pieces of himself hidden and protected scared her and mystified her at the same time. She didn't know how to do that. She felt everything, did everything and experienced everything to the fullest degree.

While he was constantly holding back.

The fact that she was in for a huge dose of heartache went without saying. She accepted it as a done deal. But even that couldn't convince her to experience these moments with him with anything less than the full measure of her heart and soul.

Their time together might be brief but at least she'd have some vivid memories to survive on when he was gone.

As usual, they cleared the kitchen and waited for Gran to head upstairs to her own room. It was early, around nine o'clock, but Ainsley was gratified by the way Luke grabbed her the minute his grandmother was gone. The evidence of the consuming arousal she inspired in him was comforting.

He crushed his mouth to hers, whispering, “I missed you today. I don't like waking up alone when I expect to find you there.”

She laughed. A sound that broke directly in the center when he ran his teeth across the curve of her neck. He knew exactly where to touch her.

Was that a good or a bad thing? She wasn't certain. She supposed it depended on whether or not his knowledge of her body's weaknesses reflected an understanding of her emotional weaknesses. And whether or not he could exploit the widening chinks in her armor to hurt her again.

He reached for her, his eyes smoldering. She could see the consuming desire there and realized if she didn't get him someplace private they were going to end up having sex on the kitchen table.

There were so many reasons
that
was a bad idea, starting with his grandmother.

Stiffening her elbows she pushed him back, a half smile curving her lips. “Not here.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her for several seconds. She had no doubt he was gauging her resolve and calculating whether or not he could sway her to his way of thinking. Apparently, deciding he couldn't, he swept her up into his arms and crushed her against his chest. A startled squeal burst from her lips and her hands grabbed tight to his shoulders.

He strode through the house, stopping long enough for her to reach across his body to flip off the kitchen light. Darkness surrounded them as he made his way to her office.

“You really have to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Carrying me around.” What was this, two, no three times? She couldn't keep the happiness that tinged her words from coming through.

“Maybe I like it.”

She reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head, and popped open the fastening to her front-clasp bra quickly after. She'd worn it today wondering if the easy access would come in handy. It had.

His steps faltered as his gaze refocused on her bared breasts. A seductive smile tugged at her lips.

She felt powerful. Sexy. Feminine. Only he had ever made her feel that way.

He reached back with a foot and kicked the door closed behind them. Walking the small pathway to the desk, he plopped her rear onto the pile of papers sitting there.

She opened her mouth to protest—some of these were pretty darn important—but he cut her off.

“I'm not taking my hands off you long enough to lock that damn door. If Gran comes in here without knocking then she deserves to get an eyeful.”

His mouth latched onto her neck and her body arched up into the moist heat of his kiss. His hands brushed down her skin, cupping the swell of her breasts. The heat of him seeped into her, puckering her nipples to tight buds. His palms circled over them in a teasing gesture that wasn't nearly enough pressure for what she wanted.

“That wasn't what I was going to say.” Her words stuttered as he bent to dip his tongue beneath the shield of his fingers.

“Oh?”

She rocked back onto her hips, deliberately rustling the papers beneath her.

He glanced at the papers. “Well, there wasn't a lot of choice given the lack of open space in here.” His teeth grazed over the tendon from the curve of her shoulder up to her throat. A shiver of longing shook down her spine.

“Luke.”

With a sigh of frustration, he pulled back from her, reaching for the computer monitor sitting on the corner of the desk.

But he wasn't reaching to move it, in fact the flat of his palm connected with the side of the casing as if he was ready to shove it off the desk and shatter it into a million pieces.

“Don't you dare!”

“I'll buy you a new one. The thing is practically a dinosaur. It needs to be put out of its misery.”

“You do that and the only thing you'll be touching tonight is broken glass.”

He laughed, a sound that settled somewhere in the center of her chest, spreading and warming her from the inside out.

“Fine.”

She expected him to grasp her hand and drag her from the room to another private place. Instead, he took a step back, reaching for the hem of his shirt as he did. It was over his head and swinging from the corner of a crate in seconds. Fishing a condom from his pocket, he laid it on the desk, the heat and scent of him drifting over her as
he came close once more. She wanted to reach for him but didn't…she was more intrigued right now with what he might do next.

His fingers worked the fly of his jeans. The rasp of the zipper sent a flood of anticipation pouring down her spine. His jeans dropped to the floor and he kicked them away, the denim making a loud
thwack
when they connected with the underside of her desk.

The view she would get when he had to crawl back under there to retrieve them was going to be sensational. She almost asked him to turn around so she could get a preview, but decided some things were worth the wait.

He stood before her, beautiful. Well made and perfectly masculine.

His hands bracketing her rib cage, Luke lifted her from the desk, setting her down on the floor before him. “Your turn.”

His eyes stayed on her…waiting. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, the rapid pulse at the base of his throat, clear signs of his anticipation and arousal. If she'd needed anything other than his enticing erection.

He kept moving away until the backs of his knees collided with the seat of her office chair and he collapsed onto the waiting cushion. His eyes were level with the low waist of her shorts, the perfect height for what she had yet to reveal.

It was her turn to slowly work the zipper, to peel back each layer of cloth that covered her sex, that kept her from him. She was the one doing the opening but his eyes said he was the one receiving the present.

With a roll of her hips, she pushed the clinging material, shorts and panties, until they slid silently down her legs. Lifting one foot out of the pool of cloth, she spread her legs wide, showing him everything.

In a burst of movement, Luke shot the chair across the floor. His arms wrapped around her body, crushing her to him. He buried his face in the naked expanse of her stomach. She felt the tickle of his breath cross her skin as he exhaled slowly. His tongue followed, a warm, wet caress that swirled at the curves of her belly button.

He pushed her backward, keeping her hips prisoner with one arm even as he urged her off balance. She had nowhere to go except against the unforgiving desk. Papers spilled over as her hands wrapped around the edges, grasping for something to anchor her to reality.

She no longer cared about making a mess. She'd have plenty of time to sort it out tomorrow.

Her arched back thrust her hips forward and opened her body to him. She was standing and he was practically prostrate at her feet, yet she felt the prisoner here, held to this spot by the promise in his gaze as he looked up from the open V of her thighs.

She was afraid her own eyes held a desperation she really didn't want to admit to. But he left her no choice. This she couldn't hide from him. She was an ache that only he could soothe.

His mouth curved up into a wicked grin right before it touched down on the lips of her sex. She could smell her own arousal, heady and thick between them. His tongue
darted out, warm and wet. He speared close to the heat of her but didn't go nearly far enough to satisfy.

He used the moist heat of his breath to tease as he pulled back. Her body contracted on the need for his touch, and a shudder passed through her.

Luke came back for more, this time running his tongue from the base of her sex to the very top. Her body bowed up and her eyes slid shut when he hit the sweet spot, flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue.

He spread her wider and went in for more. A growl of satisfaction vibrated through the back of his throat and into her. She could feel it through the conductor of his tongue as he thrust it deep inside.

There was no gentle nibbling, no teasing, no polite foray. They were both too far gone for that. He laved her with the flat of his tongue, as if he could take in all of her with this one act…this one caress.

She writhed beneath him, caught between the edge of pleasure and the awareness that it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. She wanted more….

He slipped a finger inside her, pulling a gasp from deep in her chest.

She couldn't help watching him as he knelt at her feet. The expression on his face—one of complete enthrallment—was as arousing as his touch.

She watched as the tip of his tongue found her clit again, and a jolt of pleasure shot through her core. Somewhere in the back of her cloudy mind she heard the squeak of the chair as it rolled closer and the soles of her feet were propped against the back. Her fingers
fisted around the desk, holding tight to the only thing keeping her anchored.

A whimper ground out of the back of her throat just as the world began to explode around her. Her body bucked violently against Luke as she reached the peak, and he wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her from falling off the desk.

Her entire focus, her entire being, was centered where he touched her. Nothing else existed.

But even as her body began to settle, her lungs deciding maybe they could work again after all, he pulled her to him. She glided bonelessly from the desk into his lap. Her legs slid perfectly between the wide oval of the arms so that she was straddling him.

The heat of him was startling. His skin burned.

She'd barely recovered from one unimaginable orgasm and suddenly she craved another. Grabbing handfuls of his hair, she dragged his mouth to hers tasting her own satisfaction on his tongue. She poured every ounce of desire into the kiss, arching her body, touching him, letting him know that she wanted more.

She nipped at his neck, tasting salt and sun and Luke. She could hear the rustle of papers as he fumbled behind her and the loud tear as he opened the foil packet. She rolled her hips against him, caressing his erection and enjoying the way his eyes glazed and his hand dangled, condom forgotten for a moment.

Reaching between them she brought her hand into the mix, grasping him in her tight fist. She wanted to feel the smoothness of the skin that covered his sex, to know the
pulse of blood that ran beneath the surface. To touch the evidence of his desire for her without the shield of latex between them. Part of her wanted the feel of only him deep inside her even as she knew that, considering their history, that was probably the dumbest idea she'd ever had.

Instead, she took the condom from his fingers. His eyes glittered and his breath panted in and out as he watched her roll it down his length.

Fisting him again, she guided the head of his cock to the opening of her body. She could feel the slick moisture from her orgasm and the echoing pulse of it even as he pushed partway inside.

Rearing back, she arched her hips and took all of him that she could take. Her body contracted around him, enjoying the weight deep inside. He was perfect, hot and heavy and she could feel him filling her up.

His fingers dug into the curve of her hips, holding her still against the increasing need to drive them both on. The ache built again, sharp and surprising because she'd just come. This time there was more. She could feel the tingling energy left from her first orgasm as it shot through the walls of her sex. She spasmed around him, her body primed by the memory of what he'd already given her and the knowledge that she could have more.

As if he'd been waiting for a sign, he began to move them both. His hips rocked hard against her as the cage of his hands lifted her and brought her back again. Her feet found purchase on the rolling undercarriage of the
chair, giving her leverage. Her thighs flexed in time to his rhythm as tension built deep inside.

The climb was steeper but the payoff greater as her body exploded for the second time. Tears slipped beneath her closed lashes. Her fingers curved into the arch of his shoulders, her nails digging into skin and grabbing hold of him as the only stable thing in her chaotic universe.

He bucked beneath her, a cry of pleasure bursting from his lips as he pumped his own release into her. He held on to her, too, leaving bruises on her hips that she'd gladly wear tomorrow.

She collapsed onto him, and they both let the chair take the deadweight of their temporarily useless bodies. His skin was warm and damp against her. She shouldn't have liked that but she did.

Her head settled into the crook of his neck and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of their shared pleasure as it settled around them. His arms came to rest around her hips, the only motion he could seem to manage was to tighten those muscles and pull her even closer against him.

They stayed that way, for minutes, a half hour, she wasn't certain. It didn't matter. They were both content and sated and for the moment that was enough.

Finally her muscles began to stiffen and protest their unusual position. Wiggling against him, she placed her palms to the desk behind them and pushed herself up out of their awkward hold.