by Maria Luis
Luke clutched the towel in one large fist by his side, and then pointed with his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ve got wine in the fridge, if you want me to break it open.”
“Can you put on a shirt or something?” she blurted, barely aware of the words until he twisted, just so, and the cords of his shoulder muscles tightened. It seemed that her 24-hour waterproof foundation was about to be tested, thanks to the beads of sweat forming in her hairline.
He tossed the towel over the back of the couch, narrowly missing Sassy’s head. “You having trouble concentrating?”
Anna tipped up her chin. “You’re a bit sweaty.”
“I just showered.”
“Did you?” She sent a quick, impersonal glance over his body. “I barely noticed.”
“Then why are your cheeks the same color as your red purse?”
She resisted the urge to hold her red purse over her red flaming cheeks. “I’m not embarrassed,” she said, cursing herself for falling into his trap. She was totally embarrassed . . . and turned on. Forget her cheeks, the sight of him had her nipples as hard as diamonds. Not that they were diamonds; it was just a metaphor.
She subtly glanced down at her chest, and sure enough, diamonds. Through her cream-colored dress. Would Julian miss her if she just launched herself into oncoming traffic? It seemed preferable to witnessing the knowing expression on Luke’s face, despite the fact that he did the gentlemanly thing and kept his gaze above her neck.
But that look in his green eyes said that he knew about her . . . predicament.
“I’m not embarrassed,” she repeated stuffily. “I actually came by to bring you something.”
His full mouth broke into an unexpected grin. “A present? You shouldn’t have, Bryce.”
Bryce. He was never going to let her live down her last-guy-on-earth statement. Even if it had been issued in a state of self-preservation. “Don’t make it weird,” she said, throwing his words back in his face from the other night as she propped her purse on the back of the couch. Sassy’s chin came off his massive paws. “It’s nothing big.”
Luke stepped next to her right elbow, still half-naked, damn him. Did he not realize that him walking around without a shirt should come with a hazard label?
Beware of falling for emotionally unavailable male.
In other words: Abort! Abort!
If only he’d worn such a label when she’d sent him crashing to the ground at Herbal Heaven; maybe Anna would have been content to just be in a relationship with Ajax.
She felt Luke’s big body step close to her back, his breath rustling her hair. “How ‘not big’ are we talking?” he asked, one hand coming to rest on the back of the couch by her purse.
If he placed his other hand down on the couch, they’d be one move away from reliving that night against her car. Was he thinking about their kiss?
Anna shoved her hand into her Texas-sized purse. “Not big.”
“Has to be somewhat big if you decided to lug this monstrosity around.” He nudged the purse with his knuckles, and his arm brushed up against hers. “Give me a hint.”
“You’re about to open it! You don’t get a hint.”
“A small one.”
“No.”
His other hand landed on the couch, and oh God, he smelled delicious. Like woods mixed with man, and perhaps a touch of citrus, like he’d recently snacked on an orange.
“What are you doing?” She tried to keep her voice at a normal pitch. It was hard. As hard as her nipples.
Stop thinking about your nipples.
“Trying to take a peek.”
Was that all he was doing?
“You’re an awful gift-receiver,” she told him. Where in the blasted hell was his gift? Her hand swiped her wallet to the side, digging deep into the folds of the purse. Chapstick, no. Tube of lipstick, no. Lip gloss—had she always carried this many lip products with her? “I didn’t peek when you gave me my present.”
His breath whispered across the strip of exposed skin on her back when he said, “Did you like the ornaments?”
“Yes.” Later that night, Julian had called her a nerd. He wasn’t wrong. “Where did you find them?”
“It’s my secret.”
“And if you tell me you’ll have to kill me?” she teased. “Don’t fall back on the tired clichés, O’Connor. You’re better than that.”
“How much better?”
Was it just her or did his voice sound deeper, more suggestive?
Anna made another hasty pass through her purse, on the verge of admitting defeat. “Don’t make me issue another dare. I wouldn’t want to bury you in another loss.”
She practically felt his deep-seated laughter reverberate through her chest, he was that close. “You didn’t win last time, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart, not Bryce. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. “It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it out loud, but I won. Hands down.”
“If I concede the win,” he murmured, “do I have to give you something? A trophy? A blue participation ribbon?”
Anna wanted another kiss. She wanted his lips moving over hers, his hands molding over her body. “You gave me the pizza decorations already.” She turned her head slightly, so she could watch him over the curve of her shoulder. Almost instantly, his green gaze fell to her mouth, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted to give her a trophy. “I don’t accept participation ribbons.”
His stare flared with sudden heat, and for the first time Anna realized something rather spectacular: he wanted her. It was blindingly shocking, although maybe it shouldn’t have been whatsoever, but she had limited experience with sex and with men and, yeah, she was surprised.
Large hands cupped her elbows and turned her around. Her purse fell with a thunk to the floor. He backed her up, pressing her into the couch. Anna caught her lower lip between her teeth, and almost giggled when she heard his heartfelt groan.
“I’m going to kiss you.” He uttered the words bluntly, honestly.
Anna felt liquid warmth pool between her legs. “Are you going for a blue participation ribbon?”
His forehead creased as his eyebrows arched high. “You think that’s the only reason why I want to kiss you?”
“I don’t know.” Biting her lip, she lifted a hand to his hard chest. The muscles jumped beneath her fingertips, a sure-tell sign that he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he’d like to pretend. She raised her chin and met his glittering gaze. “Is it?”
His hands shifted from her elbows to her biceps, and before she even realized what he was doing, she found herself seated on the back of the couch, the cushion sinking beneath her butt, her legs wrapped tight around his hips. She released a surprised, “oh!” and then strung her arms around his neck like a monkey.
With a look Anna could only classify as appalled, Sassy clambered off the couch and slunk towards the bed.
Luke’s wandering hands snared her attention to where it belonged: on the gorgeous man standing between her legs.
“Let’s get this straight,” he growled, “I’m not kissing you for a participation ribbon.”
Anna’s gaze centered on the beating pulse at the place where his neck and collarbone met. Her fingers drifted there. “Okay.”
“Or a trophy.”
Acting on impulse, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to that spot. “Not a participation ribbon,” she whispered, “or a trophy.” She glanced up, fingers now climbing up his neck to sink into his hair. She felt a thrill of victory when his eyelids fluttered shut and he sank into her touch. “Why do you want to kiss me then?”
Blunt fingertips tightened on her hips. “Why did you come here tonight?”
Smooth deflection, she thought with a half-smile. They were two peas in a pod. “Because I had a gift to give you—a belated Merry Thanksgiving gift.”
“I don’t see the gift, not one that I’m not already holding, that is.”
Oh boy, it was so cheesy but Anna didn’t even c
are. She grinned up at him. “See, thing is, I think I forgot it.”
“You forgot it?”
“Yes, at the boutique.”
His hands slid up from her hips to the curve of her waist, his thumbs resting just below the underwire of her bra. “You might have to give me something in exchange.”
Remember to keep breathing, girl. “Like what?”
Green eyes fixed on her lips, sending a fluttering sensation swirling through her belly. “You told me that after three dates, the winner could choose whatever they wanted.”
“I wouldn’t say you’ve won . . .”
“Considering that you’re here, in my arms, I’d say you didn’t have any better luck finding yourself the perfect match either, sweetheart.”
There he went with the ‘sweetheart’ thing again. She said as much, not the least bit surprised when he ignored her and said, “Ask me what I want.” Luke lifted his hand to her mouth, brushing the pad of his thumb across her lower lip.
She nipped him, and he only laughed.
“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured huskily, dropping his face to the curve of her neck. “Ask me.”
She heaved out a theatrical sigh, trying hard to save face. She wanted this, him. Anna only hoped he thought it all boiled down to lust. “What do you want, Luke?”
His lips slipped against the curve of her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive flesh there. Then, he moved, just slightly, and his voice came out as a seductive rumble. “I dare you to kiss me.”
And just like that, her mouth was on his, and the only thought playing on repeat in Anna’s head was, I dare you to love me, Luke O’Connor.
24
This was so much better than that kiss against her car, and that was saying something because that kiss had been hot. Somehow, this kiss was even hotter.
It was like she and Luke were battling for power. Anna tugged on his hair, and he did the same to her, drawing her head back so that his lips could find the pulse beneath her jawline. She locked her legs around his hips, and he drew her closer with a hand to the top of her butt and a heartfelt groan when his erection fit snugly against the apex of her thighs.
“I want to feel your skin,” he muttered as he plucked at her stockings.
Anna smirked. “Impatient, are you?”
His hard, green eyes lifted to her face. “I’d say I’m not the only one feeling impatient. You’ve been trying to get me into bed for weeks now.”
Her smirk disappeared as a red flush swept over her cheeks. “I have not,” she argued fruitlessly, wholly aware of the wobble in her voice. She couldn’t help it—he’d started removing her stilettos, throwing one and then the other over his shoulder. He looked like a Viking ready to plunder his new treasure. A king ready to take what was his.
Then he ruined the image by fumbling with the toes of her stockings, giving short, quick tugs at the seams as he tried to remove them.
His annoyance shouldn’t have been such a turn-on. It shouldn’t have made her want to giggle, as he failed to budge the stockings at all. She studied him, noting the matching ticks in his jaw and by his hairline. As hard as his body was, as rugged as his features were, his mouth was as soft as cream as he dipped his head and captured her lips with his.
“Your stockings are cock-blocking my efforts,” he grunted, giving another useless tug at the fabric by her toes. “Did you wear them on purpose?”
Well, there was no use lying to him. “Yes.”
“Yeah?” He fell back a step when she pushed at his chest so she could jump down from the couch. “Ah, I see.” Nodding, he added, “You wanted me to work for my participation ribbon, hmm? Ruthless, sweetheart. Utterly ruthless.”
“I figured they’d be too much of a hassle to remove, even in the face of temptation.”
“Are you saying I’m temptation?” He sounded pleased.
“I’m saying that I was doing my best to avoid sleeping with you.”
The pleasure in his tone segued back to annoyance. “And now?”
With confidence she hadn’t even known she’d possessed, Anna met his gaze, lifted the hem of her favorite dress to just below her lady parts and hooked her fingers beneath the waistband of her stockings. Feigning uncertainty, she rested her weight on one stockinged foot and gently balanced the toes of her right foot on the toes of her left. Finally, she said, “I’m debating.”
“On what?”
Anna teased him, dragging the hem of her dress up another inch. “On?” She met his gaze boldly. “Or off?” She repeated the question, fingering the hem of her dress and dragging it up before letting it fall loose around her thighs again. “What do you think?”
Luke’s green eyes darkened with lust to black. “Off,” he barked, ever the soldier. “Off now.”
She skipped out of his grasp when he reached out to do the job himself. Wagging her finger at him—who was she?—Anna sidled over to the couch, turned her back to him, and drew her dress up and over her head.
Who are you and what have you done with boy-shy Anna Bryce?
Locked her up in the closet, ball-and-chain and all. She needed to learn to live in the moment—once-in-a-lifetime moments like stripping for Luke O’Connor.
She heard the hitch in his already rough breathing when her dress landed on the floor with a whoosh of the fabric.
If there were ever a time to be wearing sexy lingerie from La Parisienne, this was it. Thank God, she’d decided to take a few minutes at the end of the day to pick out something nice. Actually, her blush bra was better than nice, considering its three-figure price tag. Little jewels had been sewn in a color-gradient pattern, and Anna couldn’t remember a time when she’d worn anything more beautiful.
Better still, she felt beautiful.
She swept her hands over the curve of her backside, secretly delighting in Luke’s responsive groan. “You’re killing me, Blondie.”
Anna didn’t reward him by turning around, but she did slowly begin to peel off the stockings. The left leg and then the right—her weight teetered. No, no, no! She would not go out like this, to be taken down by a rogue stocking.
Luke was there, his hands curling possessively around her waist, before she went tumbling over. “I see through you, sweetheart,” he murmured, “pretend to fall—damsel-in-distress style. Oldest play in the book.”
“I wanted to see if you’d catch me,” she fibbed. They both knew that she’d been five seconds away from face-planting on the floor. “You passed the trust test.”
“Good to know.” One masculine hand inched down, settling on the curve of her butt like it belonged to him. “Where’s my participation ribbon?”
“There’ll be no participation ribbons here—” The words trailed off as Anna let out a gasp. His fingers danced over her hip to the triangle of cloth at the juncture of her thighs, and she was hit with a new wash of want for him. “I was wrong,” she choked out, “you’re earning your ribbon even as we speak.”
“I’m aiming for a trophy.” The words were softly uttered, but the intention was clear. Unless she told him that this wasn’t happening, they’d be in bed soon enough.
In response to his unspoken question, Anna threw her inhibitions out the window and latched a hand onto Luke’s wrist. He didn’t put up a fight when she led him exactly where she wanted him.
His finger pressed down on her clit through the damp fabric, and Anna nearly burst apart right there. It was heaven. “A trophy,” she babbled incoherently, “yes, yes, oh my God, keep doing that.”
Luke didn’t stop. He knuckled her panties out of the way, and used her own wetness to coat his fingers. “Drop the stockings, sweetheart.” A pause. “And the underwear. Might as well go for broke and get rid of the bra, too.”
If there was a getting-naked record to be beat, Anna sailed past it with flying colors. Her bra landed somewhere on the floor and her stockings tangled with the cushions on the couch. Her silk underwear, which she removed last, was flicked over her shoulder with a casual vi
be that enthused I’ve got this.
She stood before him naked. And it was liberating.
Luke’s mouth fell open and Anna did him a favor and tapped her finger to his chin. His teeth rattled when his jaw clamped shut and he gave a little shake of his head. “You’re more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“It was meant to be one.”
Anna pointed to his sweats, somewhat surprised to find that he hadn’t mentioned his cane once. “Will you join me?”
“In your nakedness?”
She nodded.
“I thought you’d never ask.” In less than thirty seconds, his sweatpants had landed across the TV and he sank to the couch, dragging her over to him with his fingers on her wrists. “Climb on top of me, Blondie.”
The nerves were back. She’d never done it in this position before. Really, she hadn’t done much in any position before. Luke had joked about her preferring missionary, but she’d never tried anything else.
And to climb on top of him when they were both unclothed . . .
It was both a dream come true and also fodder for so much awkwardness.
He must have caught her slight hesitation because he balanced his hands on her waist and guided her onto his lap so that she straddled him. “Don’t be nervous,” he said gently.
Might as well fess up now before he found out. She fixed her attention on the wall beyond his head. “This is the first time I’m going to be on top.”
Now it was his turn to look nervous. He coughed into his hand. “You mean, ever?”
Anna punched him lightly in the bicep. “Can you stop looking so revolted?”
“What if I said this was my resting bitch face?”
Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, Anna sucked in a deep breath. “If it helps, I’m not a virgin.”
His chuckle was low and sexy. “I never would have guessed.”
“It’s just that I haven’t really done”—she lifted a hand from his shoulder to gesture between them—“this.”
“This?”
Her eyes narrowed at his purposely-obtuse tone. “Sex,” she grumbled good-naturedly. “Hanky-panky. The horizontal tango. The in-and-out. The—”