by Caro LaFever
“Nina,” he offered. With no sarcastic Miss before it. No more hiding behind irony or putting distance between them.
“Luc.” She smiled at him, for once a grave sort of smile, as if she understood the step he’d just taken. Her hands swept down his sides to tug on his gym shorts until he was naked from the waist down. “I want you.”
The words echoed inside, like a long-lost call he’d forgotten to heed so many years ago. A shudder of pleasure mixed with panic went through him. She made a sound, her low, strumming sound from the depths of her throat. When she’d made this noise before, he’d always found it either irritating or arousing, sometimes both.
But now, now it rolled into him like a clean, clear breeze.
He yanked down her shorts and panties, and pulled her into his arms again. “Legs.”
Chuckling, she obediently swung them around his naked waist. “Condom?”
“Mierda.” He froze, his cock howling, his brain yelling. “Goddammit.”
“My pocket.”
“What?” He stared at her.
“In my pocket.” Her hands slid across his cotton T-shirt, damp with his sweaty need. “A girl needs to always be prepared.”
“You came to my restaurant to have a meeting with Lali, and you just happened to put a condom in your pocket?”
His incredulous question didn’t appear to faze her. “Yes. You were likely to be around.”
Her confidence rang through the words. Confident he was susceptible to her. Confident he might slide. Confident in her appeal. The thought ripped through him that he should be upset about this. About the fact he wasn’t prepared again, and she was. But instead, pure appreciation and amusement bubbled inside.
His hands tightened on her naked ass, relishing the sweetness of a woman in his hands.
Yet he knew…it wasn’t as simple as that. Not as simple as having a woman. It was having Nina that he relished. Only her sweet and tart person in his arms and hands.
The realization shook through him.
“Mais?” Her brown brows rose. “Are you going to dig for the condom, or am I?”
Something very like joy flooded him. Something he’d lost. Something Nina had brought to him.
Luc Miró laughed.
Once more.
Chapter 22
The man should laugh and laugh for the rest of his life.
And if she had anything to do about it, he would.
His messy, curly hair swung down on his shoulders, as he threw his head back. His strong throat moved with the laugh and his mouth dropped open to show straight, white teeth. When he looked at her again, his hickory-brown eyes glowed with honeyed warmth.
“I don’t want to let you go.” His words came fast, as if he wanted to skip right past them. “But I can dip you down, if you don’t mind. You can pretend you’re on a roller coaster.”
His lips curled in a clear tease.
Luc Miró teasing. Laughing.
Because of her.
She didn’t stifle the sense of satisfaction and elation running about inside. She was proud of what she’d done for this man. She was also sure she’d be able to do even more for him in the future.
After all, this was her Fate.
“Dip away, monsieur.” She teased him in return.
Chuckling, he swung her around. She took in a swift breath as her head and hands fell toward the floor, except he held her with confidence. His strong hands didn’t slip, his grasp didn’t loosen. It struck her as she grabbed her shorts and got the condom, that Luc offered her this. This firm security. This knowing he had her and she wouldn’t be hurt on his watch.
A well of surprised tears filled her eyes. Thank goodness the man was too consumed with staring at her breasts to notice, as he eased her up and against the wall again.
“Bèl,” he muttered, his hips butting against hers. “Put the condom on.”
Such a man. She chuckled, but obediently ripped the package apart and pulled the plastic out. Glancing down, she found what she looked for. His cock reared from between them, brushing against her abdomen, begging for attention. “Mon homme.”
My man.
A flash of startled panic crossed his face at her claim. The man still didn’t understand his Fate, though she wasn’t going to worry. Not right now, when she had him where she’d wanted him for weeks. Trying to distract him, she slid her fingers along his length and placed the plastic on the tip of his cock.
He hissed, closing his eyes in pleasure.
The last time they’d made love, she’d been too excited, and it had been too dark to really take him in. But now, in the bright lights of the office, his powerful virility surrounded her like a storm of testosterone.
She wanted him all. Every bit.
Tugging on his T-shirt, she whipped it over his shaggy head.
A sly grin stole across his mouth. “Greedy.”
“Needy,” she husked, as she ran her fingers down his silky, sweaty chest. The coarse hair between his pectorals turned her lust to fierce passion.
“You touch me…” His expression filled with bewilderment, his words growing hoarse.
“I touch you like you’re mine, Luc.”
Before he could question or quarrel, her hand dropped to his cock once more.
Every emotion got wiped from his face, leaving only stark need. “Nina,” he whispered.
She placed him at her wet entry and wiggled. Getting the message, he thrust hard, his length going straight to her core in one swift shift. Pleasure swam from deep inside her to every tingling end. The tips of her fingers, the ends of her toes and everywhere in between. She tightened her legs around her man, pulling him closer, tighter.
Gasping, he thrust again, his hands clasping her butt in a hard grip.
Just as before, he set a frantic pace, his big body straining into hers like he couldn’t get enough of her.
Joy and desire zinged inside her like fireworks. She ran her palms along the broad length of his shoulders, reveling in the strength of her man. He pressed closer, his groin hitting her right where she needed, and with a cry, she came, the orgasm rushing over her.
He groaned, his eyes closing as her body tightened on his. “Jesucristo.”
Another thrust, another.
Before she could catch her breath, he’d driven her up another mountain of passion. Spangles of light filled her eyes, even though she had them closed. Her brain tried to grasp a strand of reality, but all it found was Luc.
His scent permeating the air, musky and rich with maleness.
His body moving against hers, slick with sweat and need.
His hands restlessly taking her in, sweeping along her legs, plucking on her nipples.
Dropping his forehead on the wall, he groaned once more, his movements becoming increasingly frantic.
Nina held on. Tight.
She felt his release. In the way his muscles went taut and his hips surged into her. He murmured something she couldn’t understand as he pumped himself into her, his thighs bumping on hers. Sagging, he dropped his forehead on the wall next to her again. His breath was harsh in her ear, his hands loosening on her butt.
A silence fell between them.
For the first time in her life, she had no words. Something profound had happened here. Yes, the sex had been animalistic and rough. And yes, she’d loved that. But there was something more lurking underneath this coming together.
Perhaps it was Fate.
Yet she sensed it was something more. Something she reached for and couldn’t quite catch.
“Mierda.”
Nina frowned. “Don’t use that word about this.”
With a jerk, he stepped back, his expression bleak.
A piece of her joyful heart broke.
“I said we weren’t going to do this.”
She dropped her feet to the floor because she could tell, he wasn’t in the mood to cuddle. Far from it—as usual, it would seem. She’d change that, though.
“We did t
he dirty deed.” Positioning herself on the wall in a languid pose, she threw him a teasing glance. “No getting around it, saleau.”
“No nicknames.” He scowled at her.
Although her heart kept breaking into little pieces, and the joy she’d felt moments ago kept leaking away, she couldn’t help taking him in.
What a man Fate had given her.
His jaw might be scruffy and his hair a mess, but it didn’t matter. He exuded pure male. His olive skin gleaming in the overhead lights. Those hickory eyes glowing with leftover desire. That large cock glistening with wetness, still hard, still needy.
She eyed him.
His scowl turned fierce before he whipped around, pulling the condom off and throwing it into the garbage can. “Get dressed.”
Being quite close to tears, after experiencing another round of the best sex she’d ever had, could irritate a girl.
In fact, it did.
Yet, she kept trying to tease him into a better mood. Because she wanted this profound thing that had sprung up between them to survive and flourish. “Not until you do.”
Turning, he glared at her.
She gave him a pout.
His eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
Her heart wept. “No?”
“No.” For a moment, hope rose inside as he came past the desk toward her. But before she could grab him, he grabbed his shirt and shorts, and retreated behind the battered furniture once more. “Like I said, get dressed.”
Sighing, she plucked up her own clothes and pulled on her bra and panties. “Sex is natural.”
He snorted, the sound growing muffled when he yanked the T-shirt over his head.
A bang at the door made them both straighten.
“Boss?”
Luc’s head popped out of the shirt, his expression turning enraged. “That’s Juan, ready to do prep for tomorrow.”
She tilted her head, amusement coloring her irritation at this man. “Are you afraid he’ll find out about us?”
“There is no us,” he snarled under his breath.
“Boss? You in there?” The knock came one more time.
“I’ll be right out,” the great chef responded, a flush rising on his cheeks. “Get started on the potatoes.”
She was irritated and weepy and amused. She was also incredibly attracted. More than anything, though, she felt this blossom of astonished love for him. His rosy cheeks were adorable. The bewilderment in his eyes touched her. He only had to trust her and let her in, and she could make him whole. She felt it to the bottom of her soul.
“I’ll go out first,” he commanded, his words short and quiet and curt.
She glanced at him as she pulled on her shorts.
And she caught it. Just in time.
His look. The honeyed, hickory look of pure desire. The man could grunt and growl and grumble all he wanted. Yet, that one look had told her what she needed to know.
This was going to happen again.
Because it was their Fate.
Luc knew what he had to do.
He just didn’t want to do it.
“Are you going to spend all day staring through the front window?” Lali’s wry question came from behind him. “We should probably start on the sauces.”
His gaze didn’t waver from Trois Sœurs. “Tell me about the festival.”
“What?”
“Tell me.”
“Mon lami, you surprise me.” Her wry tone turned quizzical. “I thought you weren’t interested.”
“I’m not.”
Except he was. After the debacle yesterday, when he’d lost control with Nina and taken her against his office wall—his office wall, for God’s sake—he’d come to a hard truth.
He’d treated her badly.
Never in his life had he lost his mind and taken a woman so roughly. Not even when he’d lost his temper with Genia for the last time, had he laid a hand on her or done to her what he’d done to Nina yesterday. Then, to compound his sins, he’d been angry and dismissive and tough. Instead of apologizing, instead of trying to make amends, he’d ordered her about, ignored her as she’d left, pretended the sex hadn’t happened.
Yet, it had.
“Luc?” Lali placed a tentative hand on his arm. “You okay?”
He was far from okay.
Five years ago, when reality had sunk its ugly fangs into his conscience, he’d thought at some point, he might atone for his sins and become the man he’d thought he was before. Now, he wondered if that was ever going to happen. But the one step he knew he needed to take toward this impossible goal was to do penance for what he’d done yesterday.
“Do you want to talk?”
Shaking his head, he turned to look at his sous-chef. “I need to take care of something.”
“Really?” Her curls bobbed as she cocked her head.
“Yeah, and then we’ll talk about the festival.” He swung back to look at the fetid shop.
Nina’s shop.
He’d put her in the position of taking a walk of shame through his kitchen. Right in front of himself and a smirking Juan. What he should have done was make some sort of explanation. Instead, he’d let her leave his restaurant without saying a word.
The last glance she’d shot him, one of irritation and transparent hurt, still echoed in his gut.
Mierda.
Again, he was the one at fault. Again, he was the one who needed to apologize. He supposed he should be irritated at Nina for always putting him in the wrong, yet to be honest, she’d never done anything other than be herself. Her joyful, youthful self. How could he blame her for being who she was?
No, the blame was his. Again.
“Then, go on.” Lali’s expression turned amused. “Go across the street to her shop.”
His staff clearly had been gossiping about what had happened with him and Nina. Or perhaps his sous-chef friend had sensed what was going to happen when she left yesterday.
Was he that easy to read?
Obviously, he was that easy to incite into lust.
Disgust curled inside.
He’d taken Nina against a wall. He’d taken her in his restaurant, a place he held in such esteem he thought of it as his personal temple. He’d taken her and then treated her with disrespect. He knew she was still hurt because when he’d finally slunk home last night, there’d been no languid smile waiting. The silence coming from her borrowed bedroom had been the only signal he got.
Whether she was pissed or still hurt or something in between, he was at fault.
“Go and talk to her.” Lali nudged him from behind.
Go and apologize to her was more accurate. He’d hurt her once more, something he did to her frequently. But this time he didn’t have the festival to offer her as well as an apology. This time, all he had was himself.
Not enough.
Never enough.
“Luc.” His friend stepped in front of him, her expression worried and amused at the same time. “Don’t worry about her. She’s good.”
Good like Genia never had been. He understood the underlying message. Lali had never taken to his wife and he should have paid more attention to that. His friend always had an exacting intuition about who they hired and who they didn’t. And she was always right.
She’d been right about his dead wife, too. But he hadn’t paid attention until it was too late.
He grunted and made for the locked front door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Take your time.”
Her cheerful and encouraging words followed him out into the heat of the day. Humidity soaked the streets with steam. A buzz of bees crisscrossed over the boxes of flowers hanging below his restaurant’s windows. Girding himself, he stepped off the brick of the porch, onto the cobblestone road.
“Lucas Miró.” A deep, booming voice came from behind him. “If it don’t beat all.”
He jerked around. “Cyrus.”
The old man’s white teeth gleamed in
a wide smile. His hair had gone completely gray in the intervening years, yet his dark skin still held not one single wrinkle. “How ya doing, boy?”
“Boy?” Putting on a pretend scowl, he walked to the man’s side, his hand outstretched. “Is that the way to speak to your boss?”
“Going to be my boss again, eh?” Black eyes turned keen, while Luc’s hand was grasped in a strong and penetrating grip.
The question stumped him. The handshake shook him.
It wasn’t as if he’d hire this virtuoso jazz pianist to wash dishes or take over for Vinny. The only thing Cyrus could possibly mean was opening up the club after years of it being closed.
Impossible.
Tugging his hand out of the old man’s tight clasp, he tried for a smile. “Too busy with the restaurant to take on anything else.”
“Didn’t seem to be a problem before.” The dark eyes didn’t waver. “But I hear there’s a new girl in your life. Maybe that’s what’s taking up your spare time.”
He ignored the wave at Nina’s shop while cursing silently in his head. For all that New Orleans was a big city, he sometimes felt like he lived in a small town inhabited by a crowd of gossips. “No girl.”
“Really?” Cyrus grinned. “That’s why you’re taking time out of your busy day to go visit her shop?”
What the hell? Did Lali have a direct connection by ESP to this old man?
Another scowl was the only response he could find. He couldn’t very well walk back into his restaurant like he’d merely wandered onto the street for a minute. And if he went to the shop, then he’d confirm the speculation swimming in the man’s eyes.
“Never mind answering.” Cyrus chuckled, the rough, dark sound so familiar.
It brought back the memories.
The memory of his club rocking with jazz, filled with friends and fans, the music spilling out onto the packed terrace. The memory of spending time soaking in the tunes, letting himself relax on a stool after a hard night at the restaurant. The memory of how much he loved being a part of the whole, feeling as if he’d found his reason for being.
“Well, boy.” The old man’s expression went from amused to confident. “You’re finding your way back. That’s something I’m glad to see.”