Lure of Forever

by Doris O'Connor

  "I'm sure half of the men in that room had that reaction, Chere, but that's not the point."

  "I doubt that somehow." She shook her head and glared at him. "And even if they did, I'm not interested."

  "You're not interested in men?" His voice rose higher than normal at that preposterous thought. "Not at all?" Relief flooded him when Coralie laughed.

  "Typical. I say I'm not interested and you immediately assume I must swing for the other side. I just have no wish to get involved with any of you. It never ends well, and newsflash, you're never as good as you think you are. So why bother?"

  The words were brave, but Lucas sensed the hint of vulnerability behind them. Some sorry excuse of a human male had hurt her badly. If he found the bastard, he would have great fun draining the scum. Some of his murderous thoughts must have shown on his face, as Coralie frowned back at him, and renewed anxiety seemed to pour off her in waves.

  Way to go, Lucas.

  Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he flashed the killer smile that normally made women swoon. Not Coralie, though, his only reward a mumbled, "Spare me" as she stared out the window. Had it not been for her shallow breathing and the nervous way she kept interlinking her fingers, he'd have thought he was losing his touch.

  ****

  Damn, damn, damn her hormones that made her want to take him up on the promise in his eyes. Eyes that seemed to reach into her soul and read her innermost secrets. When she had blurted those words out, sudden fury flashed across his face, before he masked it. Almost as though he'd known the ache she carried in her heart––but that was a ridiculous notion.

  She had sworn to herself long ago to never again read more into men's promises than the ugly lies they were. It was far better to stay away from men, no matter what her body wanted. That's what dildos were invented for, after all.

  Sometimes she fervently wished she could be more like Jerry. Her friend had no compunction to use men just for sex. God, Jerry...how was she going to convince her that it wasn't safe to continue working for the agency? She sighed loudly.

  "I'll have you home soon."

  Concern showed in his amazing eyes, and Coralie had to stop herself from staring. Since first sight of him, those eyes of his had changed color constantly. Right now they darkened to a deep sea green with light flecks of yellow, like rays of sun peeking through dense foliage. Her fingers ached for her paint brushes, her artist's mind wandering, even as she leaned closer to him. The shrill sound of a car horn behind them broke the spell, as a car full of young lads out for the night screeched past them. She braced herself for Lucas to put his foot down in pursuit, but he just shook his head and smiled at her ruefully.

  "Stupides jeunes fous. They're going to kill someone at that rate."

  "Never themselves though, unfortunately." She nodded her agreement and he chuckled at her in response.

  "Chere, that's positively bloodthirsty of you."

  She couldn't help her answering smile in return at the teasing tone he adopted, and some of the tension left her body.

  "I wasn't worried about getting home. I just don't know how to convince Jerry to give up working for the agency. She gets good tips and…"

  She stopped herself just in time. Somehow saying out loud how much Jerry enjoyed the dancing made it all sound sordid somehow.

  "And what?"

  She shook her head. "Never mind, it's no concern of yours. Just catch that killer, will you?"

  Coralie shivered at the deadly look he gave her.

  "I will. I won't rest until he gets what he deserves."

  Silence fell between them for the rest of the journey home. Every time she glanced across at the silent man behind the wheel, her heart ached a little bit more for him. He looked so determined and closed off. And utterly alone. He had refused to tell her what his involvement in finding this killer was, but his body language had told her all she needed to know. This was personal for him, and she got the distinct impression that Lucas would not be simply arresting the murderer. That thought should have frightened her witless, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. Her body responded to all that leashed power and bubbling aggression on a purely instinctive level. Somehow she felt safe with him, at least on a physical level. Emotionally, however––that was another matter entirely.

  She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice they had stopped outside her house until Lucas opened the door for her, one hand extended to help her out of the car. A jolt of awareness shot up her arm when his long fingers closed over hers. She would have pulled back, but he tightened his hold on her and pulled her out of the car in one fluid move that brought her so close to him she felt the coolness of his skin soak into her bones. OK, so it was him, and not her. This night just got weirder by the second.

  "Let me walk you in."

  He was so close his warm breath blew across her face. Her skin felt tight, tingles of awareness following the path his breath had taken and her voice lacked the conviction she was aiming for.

  "You don't have to. There is no need."

  "There is every need. I'm not taking any chances with your safety." The growled response left her speechless, and she simply followed him across the street and up the garden path to the dark house. Lucas waited, his face unreadable, whilst she fumbled with her keys, her hands far too unsteady to work the lock. Damn it, why was she so nervous?

  "Let me." He took the keys, the contact increasing her awareness of him further. The door swung open and he stepped back to let her through with a murmured, "Sleep well, Chere."

  Sleep? That was the last thing on her mind. Her body hummed with awareness that erupted into pure need when he bent down and brushed a feather-light kiss across her cheek. Her hands curled into the lapels of the light jacket he'd shrugged into for the journey, and managing a shaky smile, she asked what she'd been wanting to.

  "Would you like to come in for coffee?"

  Chapter Five

  The thud of the front door shutting behind them was too loud in the quiet hallway. Lucas stood still behind her, whilst Coralie fumbled for the light switch. Jeez, when had she become a butterfingers?

  Since you decided to invite a sinfully sexy stranger into your home...

  Her fingers finally connected with the blasted switch and soft lighting surrounded them. Lucas's eyes widened, taking in the paintings lining the hallway. He whistled under his breath, noticing the scribbled Coralie at the bottom of each one. Whilst she stood fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt, unable to hold still, he took in each painting in turn. He stopped the longest in front of her mother's portrait. She had caught her mum on one of the good days, sitting in her favorite chair, her knitting abandoned in her lap as she stared out into the garden with a serene smile. Cancer had claimed her mother a few short weeks later.

  Seeing Lucas study the picture had her blinking hot tears away, and she was in his arms an instant later. One hand went in her hair and the other drew lazy circles on her back, whilst he murmured soothingly into her ear. The offered comfort proved too much after the day she'd had, and she burst into tears.

  When the wrenching sobs finally stopped, Lucas produced a pristine handkerchief out of his jeans pocket and Coralie blew her nose noisily. Great, for the second time today he saw her looking her worst. First, a drowned and mud-stained rat, and now a watering pot with red eyes and a runny nose, bawling her eyes out. It was a wonder he was still standing there and hadn't taken off at a run. No doubt he would, the minute she had herself back under control.

  "She was your mother?" The quiet understanding in his emerald eyes as he asked the question had her almost burst into tears again, but she swallowed it.

  "H…How did you know?" She hiccupped, and he smiled as both of his hands went into her hair.

  "You have her eyes and mouth. And that picture is painted in such loving detail, that only someone very dear could have inspired it. You're very talented, Chere. Have you exhibited anywhere?"

  "Good God, no. This is just something I
dabble in."

  He cupped her chin in his hand and she swallowed at the intensity of his gaze. "This is more than dabbling, Coralie."

  The growled words skimmed across her conscience, settling in her core, even as her brain protested the use of her full name.

  "Don't call me that. Only Mummy used to call me Coralie."

  He swiped the single tear trickling down her cheek away and Coralie held her breath. She couldn't stop the tremble in her limbs any more than she could stop breathing, the air thick between them. She licked her lips in an unconscious gesture. Lucas's eyes settled on that movement. His pupils dilated and she let out a shuddery breath, waiting for his next move.

  ****

  Lucas looked into her tear-stained eyes and couldn't help himself. The trembling woman in his arms raised all of his protective instincts. Seeing her lick her lips broke the last of his control. To hell with it: she was here, and she was willing, and he had to have her––consequences be damned. He moved slowly to give her plenty of time to pull away. His mouth hovered over hers, their breaths mingling. She moved to connect their hovering lips and he held himself perfectly still. Her lips caressed his in the lightest of touches and her tongue flicked across them. He met her dainty flicks with a bold invasion of his own and she opened further on the sigh. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer into her and the scent and very essence of Coralie exploded on his tongue as he took charge of the kiss. His cock hardened to the point of pain and he groaned into her mouth. Their kiss turning ever more passionate, he marched her back against the wall and, lifting her higher, rubbed his erection against her jeans-covered mound. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she pressed her breasts into his chest on a moan.

  Foutre, he'd known she would be responsive, but she didn't know who he truly was. He had to take it easy, or he would frighten her. He broke the kiss and nuzzled himself down her neck, nipping her collarbone playfully. He pulled back at her shuddery exhale, the better to see her.

  "Open your eyes and look at me, Coralie. I need to know you want this, because I won't be able to stop if we take this any further."

  The heavy lashed eyes fluttered open on a sigh. His chest felt tight at the trust and arousal he saw in those amber depths. The knowledge she was responding to him without any coercion on his part was a heady aphrodisiac. But he didn't want their first time to be a hard ride against the wall. "Where is your bedroom, Chere?"

  ****

  Coralie was on fire. He'd hardly touched her and yet she was going to combust, the ache between her thighs too much to bear. Never before had she felt such burning desire. His growled question in her ear made her moan into his neck. She couldn't wait the time it took to get upstairs, and she shook her head at him.

  "No? Never mind, I'll find it."

  He caught her shriek of surprise in his mouth when he picked her up and literally ran up the stairs with her. She clung to him, the air whizzing by at dizzying speed and it seemed they were inside the master bedroom in seconds. But they couldn't be. Any rational thought left her completely when he dropped her on the bed and his hands caressed her breasts through her shirt. He peeled her out of her tee slowly, murmuring his approval at every bit of exposed skin. The heat in his gaze stoked the fire in her veins. He kissed every new bit of exposed flesh and expertly freed her from her bra, his hands massaging each heavy globe in turn. When he finally bent his head and took one turgid nipple in his mouth, she arched off the bed with the sheer pleasure coursing through her. Every suck and sharp nip shot straight to her clit. She writhed under him, desperate for her release.

  His smile turning wicked, he held her down with one hand, and kissed a hot trail down her quivering tummy.

  "Lucas, please, I…"

  "Shh, Chere, we're taking this slow."

  Damn the man, she didn't want it slow. She wanted him balls-deep inside her, riding her hard. She tugged at his clothes with feverish movements and he laughed against her skin. The vibrations traveled along her nerve endings and she groaned in relief when Lucas slid the jeans down her legs, leaving her just in her arousal-soaked thong. He stood back and a slow blush spread across her skin at his bold appraisal.

  "Tu es belle."

  Her heart felt lighter at the approval in his voice and she spread her legs with a whispered, "I need you."

  He growled again, his eyes eating her alive. His shirt came off in a blur and the rest of his clothes followed. She swallowed, a fresh wave of moisture between her legs readying her body for his invasion. Before she could totally take in the sight of a fully aroused Lucas, he joined her back on the bed. One of his hands settled on her lower abdomen and he nudged her legs further apart with his hair-roughened skin as he settled himself between her thighs. His other hand massaged her breasts until it too travelled down to her hips. He kissed her mound through the thin barrier of her underwear and his breath on her clitoris sent her arousal sky-high. When he removed her thong and his fingers slid inside her to massage her intimately, she screamed his name. Intense pleasure consumed her, her whole being on fire, sensations spreading from her clit outwards, until all she could do was trap his head between her legs, her hips rising up shamelessly in rhythm with the waves of ecstasy spreading through her. Beads of sweat broke out all over her body and he sucked and nibbled every last shudder from her until she lay completely spent. Only then did he seek his own release.

  He entered her in one slow, deliberate move until he was seated to the hilt. He withdrew and entered again. Every slow stroke against her sensitive walls roused nerves she never knew she had. His harsh breaths in her ear matched her moans and she dug her heels into his ass and lifted her hips to give him better access. Together they found a rhythm, slow at first and then with ever-increasing speed, until she once again tumbled into oblivion, dimly aware of Lucas's own grunted release into her neck. The sharp pain against her neck was the last thing Coralie remembered before darkness claimed her.

  Chapter Six

  Incessant buzzing slowly penetrated Coralie's consciousness. She blinked against the bright sunlight streaming into her bedroom and hit the 'off' switch on her alarm a bit too forcefully. Blasted thing. It couldn't be morning already. She had only just fallen asleep. She untangled her legs out of the sheets and sat up gingerly. She winced at the unfamiliar soreness between her legs, grateful that the cause of that sweet burn was not still in bed with her.

  Heat rose in her cheeks as Coralie recalled the events of last night. So that was what all the fuss was about, then. No wonder the French called an orgasm la petit mort. She hadn't known it was possible to pass out from sheer pleasure, like she had the first time. She'd come to in Lucas's arms. He had washed her down with a wet cloth, paying particular attention to her neck for some strange reason, eyes filled with something that had looked a lot like regret. His whispered French apologies had been delivered in between butterfly kisses along her neck in that to-die-for voice of his, and her whole being had simply melted. Coralie lost count how many times Lucas had woken her again, his appetite insatiable. He had played her body like a well-tuned instrument, bringing her to the heights of pleasure time and time again, until she had fallen asleep cradled in his arms.

  Well, she couldn't stay in bed forever. She had a job to get to, for starters. And she had to face him sometime. Surely he was still here?

  The house was awfully quiet. There was no sign of Lucas in the bedroom. His clothes had disappeared and her earlier relief vanished in a puff of misery. Typical. She finally let herself get close to a man, and he took off come morning.

  Well, of course he did, stupid. This was just sex, remember. You wanted to be like Jerry, so suck it up, girl. At least it was stupendous sex…

  She padded to the bathroom gingerly for her daily ablutions, grimacing at the view of herself in the mirror. There were huge purple shadows under her eyes, testament to how little last night had to do with sleep and...What were those marks on her neck? Two tiny pinpricks marred her skin and a flutter of unease
went down her spine, remembering Lucas' murmured apologies of last night. Surely he hadn't taken that vampire fetish of his too far?

  She shook her head at her fevered imaginings. She would have noticed if he'd gotten those false teeth of his out, and besides, he'd been naked as the day he was born, so where could he have hidden them? She shifted restlessly, remembering how busy his hands had been roaming all over her body. And she had the fingerprints to prove it. Her body tingled all over, a delicious ache starting between her legs and her hand strayed lower, finding her already wet pussy. She moaned when her fingers parted her own flesh, imagining them to be Lucas. She gripped the basin for support, spreading her legs wider. The action sent the metal towel stand clanging to the tiled floor and her eyes flew open at the sound.

  Shit, girl, what are you doing? Her skin flushed as she stared at her reflection in the mirror with huge eyes. One night of great sex had turned her into a raving nymphomaniac, and one with an overactive imagination at that. Those marks on her neck were nothing more than two particularly nasty mosquito bites, that's all. She was forever being eaten alive, after all. She needed to get a grip and get ready for work.

  The hot shower soothed her aching muscles and, having repaired most of the damage to her eyes with lots of concealer and much more make-up than she normally wore, she stepped into the uniform she wore for her day job and headed downstairs.

  The smell of brewing coffee stopped her halfway down the stairs and she closed her eyes as memories assaulted her. Mummy had always been up at the crack of dawn, the smell of coffee greeting Coralie when she bounded down the stairs one of her most treasured childhood memories. She'd known that her mum would be sitting at the breakfast bar, nursing a coffee and planning her day. She used to say it was the elixir of life and right up till the day she died, the frail and pain-riddled woman she'd become had insisted on her coffee first thing in the morning. The smell was soothing to her, even when she couldn't drink the fragrant brew anymore. And it had to be proper coffee.