Unlaced

by Jaci Burton

  “You’re dripping for me again. I’ll have to come take care of that.”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  He set aside the wine, and glory be, he carelessly pulled off the T-shirt. He wore the silver medallion he’d had on that day at the glade, so as he put one knee on the bed and leaned over her, she reached up. He stilled, letting her fingers close around it.

  “It has an inscription.” She studied the engraving, a cross, the burst of sunlight behind it. “ ‘The right hand of God.’ ”

  “Savannah gave each of us a wedding gift, a groomsman gift, if you will.”

  A smile touched her lips. “I wouldn’t have expected her to have a wicked sense of humor.”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s just reserved at first.” His voice gentled. “She never really got to love anyone, until Matt. And us.”

  Cass raised her gaze to his face. “So you all love her.”

  “Entirely. She’s family. And no”—his fingers threaded through her blond hair, bringing it forward across her mouth, a whimsical gesture—“you’re not a surrogate for my best friend’s wife. I just happen to have a thing for good-looking blondes. But I’m partial to the ones who ride Harleys and have rapier-sharp business sense. Savannah doesn’t have a motorcycle.”

  “But you wear this, under your clothes.”

  Nodding, he closed his hand over hers on it, where her thumb was stroking the metal, and his flesh beneath it. “She had it blessed. She worries about me, biking in traffic. It makes her feel better, knowing I have it on, though I always tell her she’s going to have to fire the priest if I do get run down. She says that’ll just prove God knew I was too much of an idiot to waste the effort. I like wearing it. It reminds me of my connection to them. They’re as much my family as my blood relations.”

  Taking her hand then, he pressed his lips to her knuckles and then eased down on her, still wearing the slacks. However, she wasn’t ready to complain, as for the first time the bliss of his bare chest came against hers, the coolness of that metal. Reaching up, she gripped his neck, pressed her lips there, tasted the metal chain and heat of him as she’d wanted to do that first time. Her arms slid behind his back, holding him as she licked and kissed his muscled skin, her hands pressing into the hard lines at his waist, the rise of his buttocks, his slacks bunched under the grip of her fingertips. She was so hungry for him. The need just surged up in her, as if by lying between her legs, against the core of her, his heart to her heart, he’d cracked something open so wide inside her that only tearing into him would help alleviate it.

  The music selection had changed to “How to Save a Life,” by The Fray, a song too poignant, too close to the way her heart felt.

  As he caught her hands, lifted away from her, and used that hold to keep her to the pillows, she tried to follow him. “Lucas, I need you now. Inside me. Please. I feel like I’m breaking. I want you to do everything you said, but for this second, please . . .”

  “Okay,” he said softly. He rose from the bed, finally removed his slacks and the snug dark cotton shorts beneath them.

  She’d seen him with the bike shorts, which had made him all but naked, but now, to see the slim line of hips, the erect cock, rising high and hard, moisture collected at the tip, the lines of his thighs, he was—

  “Beautiful,” she said softly, and meant it.

  His mouth tightened with emotion and he came back to her, taking her hands. “That’s you, Cassandra. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Do I need to wear anything?”

  “I want to say no, but . . .” She shook her head. “No one’s been in my bed in a long time, or been this close. Actually, no one’s ever been this close . . . emotionally. I’m sorry.”

  Picking up his slacks, he took care of it and came back to her, settling between her legs, looking down at her, his lips a sensuous curve. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry for not being with other men. I don’t want anything between us either, but we can come up with something that makes that possible another day.” His gaze sparked. “In the meantime, this is a prototype from one of our acquisitions, supposed to be the thinnest yet. The strongest and safest ever. You can do a product evaluation for us.” When his broad head nudged her, she let out a shaky breath, aching for him, wanting him, but paralyzed by the weight of her own need.

  “Okay,” she agreed, but when Lucas saw a glistening tear at the corner of her eye, the gentle humor intended to ease her tension fled. Bending, he pressed his lips to it and laid his weight back upon her body. So many willing curves and fine limbs, the silk of her hair. His cock leaped eagerly, but he knew the advantage of anticipating. Plus, he wanted more than anything to eradicate the tears, even willing to set aside his own lust forever if he could keep just one from marring her perfect cheek.

  Yeah, he was a goner. No doubt about it. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

  “I want you so much, but I’m afraid.” Cass looked away. “People change, Lucas. You think you’ll always have them, always love them, and then they change. Every time you open your heart, it happens. And this time, I’m not risking just my heart.”

  Hadn’t she learned a long time ago that a family member could turn into someone who wouldn’t love her? Or become the type of person she couldn’t love anymore?

  “You never want to lose control. You never want to have the unexpected happen to you. Cass.” He tightened his grip until he was sure he had her attention. “I swear to you, on everything that I am, everything that I value, I will not fail you. I’m here, feel me.” He pressed against her, effectively riveting her. “I’m not going to stop there. I want to be all the way in you. In your heart and soul, so you never doubt me.”

  “I want you so much I feel like I’m going to break. And I can’t believe I’m saying these things to you.”

  “I know.” As she buried her face in his chest, gripping him, obviously not wanting him to see her expression, Lucas realized the best negotiators knew when it was past time for talk.

  Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he kept his arms wrapped around her back and thrust home, deep. The tightness of her channel underscored the truth she’d told him. It had been a while, and he was fiercely glad for it. She stretched for him, her hips tilting up, her mouth open in a cry against his chest, her teeth scraping his flesh as he plunged, hard. Her legs wrapped around his back, gorgeous flexible thing that she was, and he rammed into her again, going with a more aggressive attack because he knew that’s what she needed. Every defense she’d thrown up, the fortress she’d built, she needed them shattered, because she had to be absolutely sure she could trust him, not only to reach her, but to stand with her. Protect her, love her. She needed a guarantee, even though he knew she was smart enough to realize there wasn’t one. She was just enough of a woman to always hope there might be one. He could almost feel her desperation in this dark room.

  It was time to drive her mind out of the equation, because sometimes the heart needed to make the decision. Lifting his upper body, he drew her away from him so she was lying back on the pillows again, those delectable breasts just there for the tasting. He went to work on them, pleased to erase the unique lingering mint smell of Peter’s mouth with his own, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking as she contracted on him, her fingers raking his back. One hand found his buttocks, exploring, pleasing herself with the feel of him. As he lashed the nipple, kneading the breast with his hand to roll the peak in his mouth, her fingers dug in. He surged into her harder, thrusting deep. He wanted her sore, sated. Her body was trembling, flushed, and he worked his tongue in between her breasts, holding the generous curves together so he was emulating the penetration of his cock while she writhed against him. He kept his hips moving, the slow pump, deep in, slow drag out, feeling her getting wetter and wetter.

  “Lucas. Come with me. I need to know you’ll . . . go with me.”

  He could have exploded without a thought. He nodded.

  Cass kept her gaze on his face, the gray eyes,
the implacable mouth, the concentration and fire. She couldn’t think, her body spasming already, but then she gave a cry of protest as he slid out of her, went down her body and suckled himself on her cunt, lifting her hips and legs so she was yanked half off the bed, clutching the headboard as he plundered her, clever enough not to touch her clit and send her right over. He’d slowed, taking his time now, and she was mewling, any type of self-control or dignity abandoned as she pleaded for what she wanted.

  What was he doing? Why wouldn’t he just let her go? As he turned his movements into slow licks that took her just to the edge of orgasm, held her there, she whimpered helplessly. He balanced her there with a precision that suggested he knew things about her body that she didn’t. The pleading was lost as she accepted it and knew she was all his. Her hands gripping the headboard as if truly bound there said it clearly. Whatever he wanted to do to her, wherever he wanted to take her. Somewhere in the haze of her mind, she knew that was the lesson. Give it all to him, trust him, no control of her own.

  He slid down the bed, his hands caressing her legs, and came back up with the belt from his slacks. As if reading her mind, her desires, he bound her wrists, then looped and knotted the belt to the rail. “You’ll get very familiar with my belt,” he observed in a husky whisper, working his way back down her throat. She turned her face to his temple, pressed frantic kisses there, tried to bite at his flesh. “It will hold you like this. Or I’ll use it to slap your pretty butt when you don’t trust me. Make you have trouble sitting down in your meetings.” He stopped over a nipple, gave it a hard nip as she cried out, another wordless plea. “You’ll also bite down on it when I find you for lunch, take you somewhere semiprivate and fuck you up against the wall.”

  “Lucas, don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what? Back you down, until you know you belong to me, every inch, inside and out? Know that you can trust me with anything, because I consider you mine to protect, look out for? Love? You, and everything that belongs to you.”

  “Antiquated . . .” She muddled up the word, her tongue not working. “Ideas of male chivalry . . . chauvinism. Don’t need you to take care of me.”

  “Everyone needs someone to take care of them. Now, hush. Believe in me.” Lifting his head, he gave her a long look, studied her hungry face, his own taut with desire. “Search your heart, Cass. Is there even one thing in your heart that can help you make that leap? Just one?”

  The taste, heavy weight, and steel of him were sending her into bliss as he braced himself over her, his muscles tightening up and down his upper body in delicious display.

  With the belt and his words—hell, the past thirty-six hours—he’d pushed her past something in herself, the wall she’d built, right into something that felt more natural and true, a new garden that might just be hers to explore. She sought something there to answer his question. Because he had pushed her that far, she wasn’t surprised to find what he demanded just waiting for her recall.

  It was a news clipping she’d found during her research. Matt’s team had been an active part of the rescue and relief efforts during Katrina. The picture showed Lucas sitting on the tailgate of a supply truck. He’d been filthy dirty, with a group of children sitting with him. Exhausted, he’d been leaning against the side of the trailer, fast asleep. The children, a couple of them, played in the mud near him, but two or three were piled on him, sleeping as well.

  She knew children. They might take toys or candy from a kind stranger, come back to him for more of the same, but in the same phenomenon seen around police stations and Marines, children followed and stayed close to those who made them feel safe.

  No matter what happened between them, Lucas would take care with her children. And that would give her the sense of surety she needed to be his. To open her heart to falling in love with him, though she was likely most of the way there. He was right. It really didn’t have anything to do with time. The deal closed early. Time just allowed all the details to be worked out.

  “Lucas, please. I want you.”

  God, he was everything she wanted. She wasn’t looking at his body anymore, but at those serious gray eyes. It made her mouth dry with need in proportionate response to the soaking wetness between her legs. As he waited, she managed the next step. “I need you. I accept you.”

  The ability to tease him with her opening, the arch of her body for his hard cock, made her tremble. He seated himself in her opening, held her down when she tried to pull him in.

  “One more, Cass. You owe me one more before I take you. Look me in the eyes and say it, so we both know there’s no going back.”

  She shut her eyes, wanting to believe so much, wanting not to be afraid, knowing there was no way to do this without being afraid.

  “You promised breakfast, right?”

  “Chocolate chip pancakes, all the way around. Cassandra, say it.”

  She opened her eyes, stared up at him. “I’m yours.”

  Something flickered in his gaze and he slowly, slowly pushed in, going deep into her slickness again.

  “I’m yours, too,” he said softly. “Come for me, Cass.”

  “You, too,” she breathed, just before her body began to buck, from no more than an artful flex of his hips, a tiny rub against her, inside and out. The feel of him, pushing in where nothing had been for a long time, was like a small, rippling, searing orgasm all its own. It built like a wave as he continued the movements, building higher as she clawed at the belt binding her wrists, knowing her voice was going to be hoarse from screaming, because she was already crying out, and she wasn’t even there yet.

  Then he started really moving, and fire became conflagration, sweeping through her, taking her up higher, higher as he thrust home, all brutal strength now, taking her in every sense of the word. She exploded, years of catharsis contained in one blinding emotional and physical outpouring that swept her away so she could only hold him with her legs and hope he held on to her. She screamed, pleaded with him, and when he released, she wished she could feel the hot stream of him filling her. But the feel of that cock, rippling with release against the walls of her channel, his harsh grunts, the brutal clutch of his fingers on her hips that would leave treasured bruises, would be enough for this moment. Until the next one.

  Plaster had to have been knocked out of the wall behind the headboard, but she’d figure out some way to explain that to Marcie. Maybe to Jessica. Marcie wouldn’t be duped.

  When she cracked open an eye at long last, the full weight of his body was on hers, his temple against hers as well. Being tied like this . . . Oh God, it still felt arousing, even with her body shuddering in aftermath. Who knew? He reached up, loosened the tie of the belt to the headboard, but left her wrists bound to bring them over his head, her fingers curved against the back of his neck. When he shifted and turned her to hold her in his arms, she smiled. “You’re not letting me go?”

  “Nope.” He had his eyes closed, one hand on her ass in a possessive hold, the other around her back, his hand playing with her hair, making her shiver.

  “Why?”

  “Because as soon as I get past this postcoital coma I’m in, I’m going to start all over again. I’m going to do this to you over and over, so when the kids come back in the morning, you won’t have any doubts about the fact I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t have any doubts now.”

  He opened his eyes, tilted his face down, filled with surprise. “You convinced me,” she admitted. “You did what a great negotiator is supposed to do. I know the world’s not a certain place, Lucas, but I’m going to put my faith in you. Whatever happens between us, I’ll know it was worth the leap. So, will you untie me now?”

  His face was a study of emotions that touched her heart. Then a light smile lifted his mouth. “I promised you a glass of wine.” His gaze traveled down her body. “I never said where I was going to pour it, or the type of vessel I was going to drink from. And I find I have quite a thirst.”

>   “You can’t possibly.”

  “No. Men are limited in that way. But women aren’t.” His eyes flashing with promise, he rose, sliding her hands from around his neck to go retrieve the bottle of wine, as well as a towel from her bathroom.

  As he came back, she was still halfheartedly protesting, though the shiver in her limbs and his intent gaze riveting on her bound body told her it would do little good.

  “Would you deny me, Cassandra?” He gave her the look that made her pulse leap and told her she was his, body, heart, and soul. No, she wouldn’t deny him. Though next time that male propensity for postcoital coma kicked in, she was going to pounce on him, bind his hands with his belt, and go to work on every inch of his body with her mouth the way she craved to do.

  “Can you do crepes? Talia loves crepes.”

  He nodded. “I can do things you can’t even imagine. Will you deny me, Cass?”

  She swallowed, all desire to tease fleeing before that expression. “No.”

  “Good.” He put the towel down, parting her legs with a gentle but inexorable hand upon one. “Because I intend to give you everything.”

  He did eventually release her hands. And as he held himself on his arms over her, in the small hours of the night, prepared to make love to her the third or fourth time—or maybe it was the fifth—she allowed herself the pleasure of finally fingering the soft hair across his forehead. Was there such a thing as a fantasy that turned into something better in reality? Could she let herself believe what had started over a month ago could be something real that lasted? Could Sleeping Beauty really be roused from her sleep by one kiss, and want to spend her life with the prince? And him with her?