Joy—strong and potent as any liquor—coursed through him and made his voice even more gravelly as he instructed her to take her top off and watched her comply. He quickly shed his own t-shirt, adding it to her pile of clothing on the floor.
“That’s it, baby. You’re so perfect. Now, turn back to me and step forward.”
Her nipples were raspberry pink against her light skin, and he couldn’t resist the impulse to lift his finger and gently circle one and then the other. His hands coasted up her belly, which quivered in response, and he cupped her breasts gently, loving the way they filled his palms. He lowered his head and licked each one eagerly, wanting to know the flavor of her—salty, sweet, delicious. Mine.
“God, Lucas!” Her legs buckled, and he moved one hand from her breast to wrap around her waist and steady her.
Finally, finally, finally. His lust-filled mind couldn’t entirely process how he’d gotten here, how the one woman he’d craved was now, at last, within the circle of his arms, but his soul sent a grateful hallelujah to the heavens for it.
Her pussy was completely bare, and he let one questing hand trail down over her belly button to stroke those silky folds, stroking a rhythm against her clit and then lower, until he was pumping inside her. She was scalding hot, soaking wet, and absolute fucking perfection. Mine.
She threw her head back and gave a low, hoarse cry, rocking her pelvis against his hand in a quest for friction, but he didn’t want her to come yet. Instead, the hand around her waist tightened, holding her still while he raised the fingers that had been inside her to his lips. And as she watched him with glassy, lust-hazed eyes, he sucked. Fucking delicious. And fucking mine.
His dick was rock-hard and aching. He could feel a drop of pre-cum that had already leaked from the tip moistening the cotton of his boxer-briefs, and he knew that, as much as he wanted his hands all over her, he wanted her hands on him just as much. With a shuddering breath, he pushed her back half a step, creating a space between them.
“Take them off,” he instructed hoarsely, nodding down to the tented fabric of his fly. He didn’t need to provide any further instruction. She eagerly flipped open the button at his waist before carefully and oh-so-fucking-slowly easing the zipper down.
His erection sprang free the moment his shorts were open, pushing the elastic waist of his boxers away from his body. She hooked her fingers beneath the waistband and her eyes flashed up to his, seeking his permission. He nodded and she pulled them off as well, running the back of her hand over the swollen head of his cock in what seemed to be a deliberate move.
Fuck yes.
She hesitated once he was naked, her eyes flicking up to his and then to the bed behind him, as though there were too many choices available to her. He remembered her earlier statement, that his dominance quieted the what-ifs.
“Touch me,” he said simply. At that precise moment, he didn’t care where or how, though, if she needed more direction, he’d happily provide it. But it seemed that much instruction was enough.
Her hands skated up to his shoulders and then down over the hard wall of his chest, the gentle touch of her fingertips branding him as clearly as he’d branded her ass. She dragged them back up again, then down over the firm curve of his biceps and the hard knots of his forearms, which flexed as he curled his hands into fists. Her fingers curved in, over the hard plane of his abdomen, and he bit back a moan as his cock literally jumped at the sensory overload—the sight of her thin, pale hands against his tan flesh, the slippery slide of her cool skin against his.
His cock was begging for attention and he couldn’t handle her teasing for another second. His thick hands fit around her waist and lifted her to lay on her back on the bed. Without a second’s pause, his lips descended on hers in a brutal, claiming kiss that left them both panting. Then his mouth trailed lower, licking and nipping down her belly and over the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs until he reached her wet core. She braced her feet flat on the mattress and lifted her ass in the air, offering herself to him, and he was only too happy to accept. His tongue lapped over her already swollen clit, eager for another taste of her sweetness.
He’d always loved this particular act—learning the unique taste and scent of the woman he was with, making her lose her mind. With Gretchen, though, there was an increased intimacy that heightened his senses beyond belief. He catalogued every tremble of her limbs and clench of her muscles as he gently suckled and quickly learned the nuances of every tiny cry she made as he tortured her with his fingers and tongue.
“Please, Lucas! Now, please,” she begged, but he only chuckled darkly and continued to torment her, spurred on by the deep-seated need to remind her that he was in control.
He stoked the fire higher and higher, edging her, torturing her, until he knew she was out of her mind with wanting, and his own cock was leaking against the bedsheets. Only then did he encourage softly against her sensitized pussy, “Now, Gretchen. Come for me now.”
She tensed beneath him, sobbing his name, and he had to bite his lip to keep from coming.
A second later, he’d grabbed a condom from his wallet, sheathed himself, and was poised above her, staring down at her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving, her limbs flopped bonelessly across the mattress. Mine, he thought once again. Mine to destroy with pleasure, every damn day.
“Open your eyes, baby. Watch me,” he instructed, and her gorgeous brown eyes blinked open to meet his.
“Who do you belong to?” he asked. He expected some hesitation on her part, that her instinctive need to assert her independence wouldn’t be overcome by a single spanking, a single orgasm.
But she looked at him seriously, a tiny smile quirking her lips, and whispered, “To you, Lucas.”
“Fuck, yes,” he growled.
He slid forward into her welcoming heat, making her gasp, but she surprised him once again. Her hand slid up to cup his cheek and grab a fistful of his hair, and she staked her own claim right back.
“And you belong to me,” she told him fiercely. Her arms and legs wound around him, holding him and possessing him, as thoroughly as he did her.
That was all it took to make him lose the shackles on his control. He thrust inside her again, loving the way her muscles spasmed around him, gripping him tightly. His hands grasped her waist with bruising strength, holding her still while he withdrew his cock nearly all the way from her tight channel before plunging back inside, over and over again. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head from the pleasure of it, and sparks danced at the edge of his vision. This was what he’d been waiting for, this was what he needed. It was permanent, it was real…
It was anything but boring.
That realization sent him over the edge and he pushed himself deeply inside her, his hips grinding against hers and shudders wracking his body as he came and came and came.
He lay quietly against her for a moment, catching his breath before rolling to the side and dealing with the condom. When he rolled back, she came into his arms and buried her head against his chest without hesitation. He drifted for a moment, watching the dust motes shimmer in the sunshine, feeling more contented than he could ever remember feeling.
Lucas knew the exact moment the beautiful, exasperating woman in his arms began thinking again. He could feel the tension starting in her shoulders and stealing through her limbs and had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. He knew there were lots of things unresolved between them, and there was nothing really funny about that, but he loved knowing her so thoroughly, being able to read her moods…and, for the first time, truly believing they were both committed to sorting whatever shit needed to be sorted between them, together.
“I can practically hear the what-ifs churning around in there,” he told her matter-of-factly, stroking his hand over her shiny black hair.
She lifted her head and propped her chin on his chest, giving him a wry smile. “Seems like they didn’t go away permanently just because yo
u spanked and fucked me. I only got a temporary reprieve.”
“Well, then, I can see I’ll have to spank and fuck you very, very regularly,” he said sternly. Even though she was sprawled over him, limp with satisfaction, her eyes lit up with an enthusiasm that made him groan.
“It’s just… I want this,” she whispered. “So much. I want you and me. But we have these crazy jobs we both love, and I don’t know how things are going to work, practically speaking.”
He already had an idea that had been floating around in his mind for a while that might ease her mind somewhat, but before he could speak, a tentative knock sounded on the cabin door.
Lucas and Gretchen exchanged a look and Gretchen sat up, shaking her head. She had no idea who it could be, either. The knock came again, slightly louder this time, and Lucas groaned as he heaved himself off the bed and stepped into his shorts. He tossed Gretchen her dress and waited until she’d tugged it into place before glancing through the peep hole. What he found on the other side had him doing a double-take.
He threw open the door to find Mariela standing in the hall, shuffling from foot to foot nervously. Gretchen immediately launched herself off the bed and came forward with a concerned expression on her face.
“Mariela?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”
Lucas guided the woman into the room and shut the door behind her, then grabbed the desk chair—the same one he’d been using as a bed for the past two nights—and turned it around so that she could sit down.
“I-I felt so bad, lying to you today,” Mariela whispered. Her dark eyes watched as Gretchen perched on the edge of the bed and Lucas claimed the seat beside her. “But I made a promise.”
Lucas narrowed his eyes. “A promise to who?”
Mariela swallowed. “To Zelma Pickler.”
Gretchen looked at him, stunned, before turning back to Mariela. “You spoke to her?”
The woman nodded, casting her eyes to the floor. “We were friends. Well, sort of. She talked to me, you know? Lots of people talk to bartenders. But Zelma… she didn’t have a lot of friends to confide in.”
“Was she in trouble?” Lucas demanded. “Was someone after her?”
“Oh, no!” Mariela said, raising her hands in denial. “Nothing like that. She was just… lonely. She got herself into a situation she couldn’t get out of, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it.” The girl licked her lips then continued, “If you’re her family, you and Mama Peggy, you must already know that she had a rich boyfriend?”
Gretchen hesitated, seemingly wanting to confess that Mama Peggy had been a figment of her imagination, but Lucas put a restraining arm around her shoulder. They’d let this play out, now that their cards were in play.
“I’d heard something like that,” Lucas agreed. “But we didn’t know him.”
Mariela shook her head. “I don’t know him, either. She’d never tell me his name, just that he was rich and powerful. She… she said that’s why she first fell for him,” Mariela said sadly. “She just didn’t realize that being with someone for his money and power wouldn’t be enough until it was too late.”
“Too late?” Gretchen echoed, and the other woman nodded.
“He was married,” Mariela confessed, looking back and forth between Gretchen and Lucas, as though expecting them to be shocked and appalled. When she found that they weren’t, she continued, “But he was obsessed with Zelma. He kept telling Miss Zelma that he loved her and he would leave his wife for her, but I don’t believe it was ever true! He couldn’t really have loved her, because even when his wife threatened to divorce him and take all his money, even when his wife threatened to kill Zelma, the man wouldn’t let her go. He made her go into hiding, instead. She was sort of resigned to it, she told me, and it wasn’t so bad, at first, because at least she had all the money she could ever want. But then… she fell in love.”
“In love? With Man—I mean, with her boyfriend?” Gretchen demanded.
“Oh, no.” Mariela’s head shook sadly. “With Herb.”
Herb? Wasn’t that Zelma’s ugly, silent bodyguard? Once again, Gretchen and Lucas exchanged dumbfounded looks. “I-I think I might have seen a picture of him,” Lucas prompted. “He was a boxer once, maybe?”
“Yes!” Mariela exclaimed. “That’s him. He wasn’t very handsome, and he definitely didn’t have money, but he paid attention to Miss Zelma. He didn’t want to show her off or lock her away all for himself, the way her old boyfriend did. He just liked to hold her hand under the table at dinner and listen to her talk. Sometimes, he’d sit in the deck chair next to her and read to her for hours. She felt safe with him, she told me. She said, ‘All the money and power in the world can’t buy that kind of security.’“
“So what happened to her?” Lucas asked. “Did her boyfriend find out?”
Mariela shook her head but her eyes were shining. “She escaped! When the boat docked at one of the islands, she and I both disembarked, along with Herb. They got married at a little courthouse and she changed her name. Later that day, I came back aboard, pretending to be her, while she made her way to Peoria.”
“Illinois?” Gretchen asked, still shocked. Lucas pulled her more tightly against him, stunned and amused himself by the turn of events. They’d anticipated finding foul play—kidnapping and cartels, war and crime, had become almost the norm for them. A simple love story with a happy ending hadn’t been something either of them would anticipate.
Mariela nodded. “That’s where Herb was from originally. I’m not sure where they’ll go from there.” She paused and looked at Lucas guiltily. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to worry you, but she couldn’t let anyone know where she’d gone. She knew that if her old boyfriend ever found out, he’d come after her and make her life miserable. And I think she was worried that her family might not understand why she had to give up her life the way she did, you know? She worried that you might try to get her to come back. That’s why she swore me to secrecy. But when I saw the two of you at the bar earlier today, and then again, during the, um, demonstration, I could tell, just by watching you, that you’d get it.”
Gretchen shook her head as if to clear it. “Get it?”
“Love,” Mariela said, waving a hand between Gretchen and Lucas and smiling widely. “The way you two are with one another, your love shines so clearly. Just like it does with Miss Zelma and Herb. I knew you’d understand that love sometimes requires sacrifice.”
“Yeah,” Lucas assured Mariela, his voice raspier than he’d anticipated. “We get that.”
“But I have her phone number,” Mariela offered. “If you or, um, Mama Peggy need to speak to her. And I have Herb’s address in Peoria.”
Lucas looked at Gretchen. He knew what he wanted to tell Mariela, but he’d promised Gretchen that he would be her partner, and this wasn’t his decision to make. If she took Zelma’s contact information from Mariela, she’d be guaranteed a promotion. If she didn’t…
Gretchen took a deep breath and braced her hand on his knee, but didn’t glance up at him.
“No,” she told Mariela firmly. “As long as we know she’s okay, we won’t bother her at all.”
Mariela smiled and nodded, then stood to leave. Lucas followed her to the door, and after he’d locked it behind her, he turned to look at Gretchen. He knew his heart was in his eyes but he didn’t give a shit. He had nothing to hide from his woman anymore.
Gretchen stared at him as he stalked toward the bed, and when he paused just inches away from her, she swallowed hard and stood.
“I was wrong before,” she said, her eyes never leaving his face. “About you flirting with Mariela. What you gave her was not your fuck-me smile.”
“Yeah?” His arms fell around her waist and she braced her forearms against his naked chest. “How do you know?”
“Because I’m looking at it right now,” she told him.
And he bent his head to take her lips with his, tasting the laughter in her kiss.
Chapte
r 7
“So… wait, wait, wait,” Elena said, leaning forward across the wrought iron patio table and staring at Gretchen. “You found the chick, you solved the mystery, and you still lost your job?”
Gretchen snickered and set her wineglass down on the table with a click. “I didn’t lose it, Lanie. I gave it away. Big difference.”
She’d known what would happen when she walked into Benny’s office empty-handed the day after the Acheilus had docked. The only surprising thing was that she didn’t feel a single pang of regret over it.
“All right, so the cruise thing didn’t pan out,” Benny had said with a shrug. “I figured that was a long shot, but it wasn’t my call. So, you try something else. Private investigators, maybe. Or you write a story about her. Maybe we’ll call it A Cry for Help. You’ve got a hell of a following, especially after writing about all that tragic shit. People will email you all their Zelma sightings, and you can…”
“I’m resigning,” she’d told him flatly. And yeah, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t loved the way the smarmy asshole had gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, the second he’d realized she wasn’t kidding.
That look, combined with the frantic way he’d offered her a raise, an office, anything she wanted, might have made her decision worthwhile, even if she didn’t have other good reasons for the choice she’d made.
She liked imagining gorgeous, vivacious Zelma and her doting Herb living a quiet life in middle America somewhere. Quiet, but never boring.
“But you loved that job!” Elena argued. “You’ve given up so much to get that editor position. And you had a plan.”
Gretchen let her gaze wander over her friend’s shoulder. Elena’s backyard was lovely in the fading light, all lush green grass with big raised beds that Blake and Slay had constructed to house the vegetable garden Elena had planted in the spring, and a large paved patio where Blake cooked their dinner on a grill the size of a small car. But the best sight of all was Lucas, crawling on the grass and growling with little Asher while baby Alessia watched and giggled.
Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Page 121