Not Melanie.
She smiled gently. “I hope so. I hope you find joy again,” she said, then opened a drawer and took out a fork. She speared a piece of meat, and cupping her hand under it, she brought the sample to his lips. “Tell me what you think. I can still add more seasoning.”
She waited for him to open his mouth. She hadn’t run from his mood. From him. Instead she fed him pot roast.
* * *
MELANIE WASN’T SURE if his slow smile was specifically designed to make her knees weak or if it simply meant he liked the taste. “Well?”
“Perfect.”
“I can add more salt or pepper. It won’t hurt my feelings if you think it’s too bland.”
Shaking his head, he put his hands on her waist. His gaze locked on hers.
“Okay, then.” She flipped the fork over her shoulder and hoped it landed in the sink. “Gertrude knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I was seeing you tonight.”
His only reaction was a slight lift of his right brow. “What did she say?”
“Something like ‘it’s about damn time.’” Melanie slid her hands up his chest, feeling the deep rumble of his quiet laughter under her palms, and grabbed a fistful of his button-down shirt. “You know the best thing about pot roast?”
“Tell me.”
Neither of them broke eye contact. “You don’t have to eat it right away.” She pulled him down and brushed a kiss across his lips. “It’s still good an hour later.”
“Or three.”
“Or three,” she agreed, her attempt to sound matter-of-fact coming out a hoarse whisper.
Lucas hadn’t moved his hands, which rested loosely at her waist. His flaring nostrils were the only evidence he hadn’t been carved from stone. “Are you sure about this?”
She didn’t have to think about it, because she’d been doing that all day. Caught in his unwavering gaze, she lost her ability to speak. A nod didn’t seem adequate, so she tugged him closer while she stretched up on her toes. Her kiss would have to convince him this was what she wanted.
Their lips met and he pulled her against him. He was already hard, and the thrill of that knowledge shimmered down her spine.
She rubbed her aching nipples against his chest, feeling a slight shudder pass through him. He used his tongue to part her lips, then slowly swept inside.
He was so very wrong about not being a patient man. He took his time, learning her mouth and letting her adjust to his tender exploration, almost in deference to her limited experience. Though he couldn’t know about that, he certainly might’ve guessed. He understood small towns, knew she valued her reputation. Or perhaps he found her skills to be lacking.
The thought momentarily unsettled her. No, she wouldn’t let anything ruin tonight. She wanted this; she wanted Lucas. And she had no doubt he wanted her.
His heart pounded as fiercely as hers, and his mouth was no longer so gentle. Pulling her blouse free of her shorts, he slipped his hands underneath and ran his rough palms up her back. Her skin tingled. She waited, clutching his shoulders, wondering if he would unhook her bra when his fingers lingered there. Even through his shirt she could feel the heat from his skin. His whole body was hot and hard, thrumming with tension.
Leaving her bra intact, he pulled back to look at her. She blinked at him, too dazed to focus or understand what was happening. His breathing came fast and heavy. She felt it as her palms slid from his shoulders down to his chest.
“I assume you have a bed,” he murmured, capturing her hands and kissing the backs of her curled fingers.
“Hmm?”
“Honey, it’s that or this tile floor. Take your pick.”
Some of the haze lifted and she saw the glint of humor in his lust-darkened eyes. “Oh, right.” She sucked in a breath, thinking she’d never been with a man like Lucas before and probably never would be again. “Come.”
His lips quirked at her stupid word choice, but he said nothing as she took his hand and led him through the living room down the short hall. Earlier she’d made sure her room was tidy, her favorite satiny blue sheets clean. She’d even sprayed them with a touch of vanilla and suddenly hoped she hadn’t gone overboard.
They entered her semidark bedroom, the curtains already drawn.
“I haven’t seen one of those in a while,” he said, glancing at her double bed as he slipped her top button free.
“It’s an old house with small rooms. A queen would be nice but impractical.” She started with a button in the middle of his chest. “Since I don’t usually entertain men here.”
“Usually?”
Startled by his slightly mocking tone, she looked up at him.
“I bet your neighbors are all packing heat. Even that tiny white-haired lady on your right.”
“Hazel?” Melanie grinned. “Count on it.”
“Maybe I should move my truck,” he said, searching her face while he freed another button.
“Hazel won’t shoot you. Just call the sheriff.”
He hesitated. “I’ll make sure to leave before dark.” His patient smile made her want to cringe.
Now she understood what he’d been getting at about moving his truck. He wanted to know if he’d be spending the night. Sometimes she was so naive it exhausted her. Sighing, she nodded. “Yes, before dark—that would be best.”
“Don’t look so glum.” He nudged her chin up. “That gives us several hours,” he murmured, looking into her eyes and pushing the blouse off her shoulders.
She stared back, captivated by his handsome face, his strong hands, his deft touch. His shirt hung open and her gaze moved down to his broad muscled chest. She’d already seen him shirtless and she wanted to see him again. She wanted to know how all that smooth tanned skin felt under her palms and against her lips.
Suddenly she was frantic to strip his shirt off, grabbing the front and trying to push it off him. He caught her wrists, holding both of them in one hand, stilling her, while he unhooked her pink bra. The cups loosened, and his gaze drifted down to her breasts, to nipples already tight and aching for his touch.
For several sizzling seconds, he just looked down at her, his gaze sweeping her collarbones, her breasts, her belly.
“Pink,” he murmured with a faint smile, using his thumb to trace the bra’s lace scalloping. Then he slid the satiny straps off her shoulders.
She smiled a little herself, wondering how he planned on getting the bra off without releasing her wrists. Turned out he had no trouble at all. Then he went for the zipper on her shorts.
“No fair,” she protested, and he completely ignored her. “I mean it.” She twisted free of his hold. “Your shirt has to go.”
His expression was one of pure amusement. “Yes, ma’am.” He shrugged out of his shirt and nodded at the blue handmade quilt covering her bed. “Want that out of the way?”
“What?” She had to quit ogling his chest. “Yes.” She folded the coverlet back and glanced around the small room, then ended up putting it in the corner on the floor.
She turned back to Lucas and found him sitting on the edge of the bed pulling off his second boot. His jeans were unsnapped and halfway unzipped. The predatory glint in his eyes made him look dark and dangerous. God help her, it turned her on.
“Take off your shorts.” He stood, finished unzipping his jeans and stripped them off.
He still wore black boxers, and she tried to see more of him but he was fishing for something in the pocket of his jeans and blocking her view.
“If you’re too busy, I reckon I can do it,” he said with a trace of amusement, and she glanced up just as he took a packet out of his wallet.
She felt the heat bloom in her cheeks but she just laughed. So what? She’d caught him staring lots of times. He t
ossed his jeans aside, and she held her breath while he slid off the boxers.
Oh, my.
“The shorts, Melanie,” he said quietly, humor replaced by barely restrained need. “I’d hate to rip them.”
In her haste the zipper caught. It snagged a second time as she watched him come toward her. She let go, thinking he’d finish, and if he ripped the shorts—oh, well. Instead he used his hands to cover her bare breasts. His mouth brushed her ear, then the skin below it. He caught her earlobe with his teeth, biting gently, the slight pressure crazily erotic.
She could’ve sworn he hadn’t moved either hand from her breasts, and yet she felt the shorts slide down her legs. In another instant her panties were gone, and he was picking her up and laying her across the bed. Her hair went everywhere, tangling in his fingers and clinging to her cheeks.
He stretched out beside her, his naked body pressed against hers while he lifted the tendrils off her skin. A frown lowered his brows. “Your face is damp.”
“Is it?” She wasn’t crying, if that was what he thought. “Oh, Lucas, I’m damp all over.”
For a second he stared at her, and then he let out a short laugh. Her first instinct was to hide her face against his shoulder. But she refused to give in to something so childish. Lucas made her feel bolder, more powerful, and she was going to revel in it for as long as it lasted. And, oh, how he made her wet.
“Let’s see,” he whispered, his warm breath bathing her ear one moment, then filling her mouth with a steamy kiss the next. His hand moved down her body, pausing at her breast to toy with a stiff nipple.
His erection was hot against her hip bone, and he skimmed his fingertips over her ribs and down her belly. When he reached the tip of her folds, she squeezed her thighs together.
He broke the kiss and lifted his head. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
“I do. But—” she let out a shaky breath “—I want to touch you first.”
Wariness flickered in his eyes, quickly followed by a choked laugh. “Go ahead,” he said, falling back on his elbows. “But if I tell you to stop, better do it pronto.”
She grinned with the heady awareness of how clearly he wanted her. She pushed halfway up and tried not to stare. But it wasn’t as if she could not look. Her lips parted on a sigh. He was...impressive.
“Jesus,” he murmured, grabbing the packet he’d left on the nightstand.
“Wait—”
He sheathed himself before she could lay a finger on him. “Later,” he whispered, rolling toward her, the breadth of his shoulders forcing her back to the mattress.
Without warning he slipped a hand between her thighs. She gasped at the intimate brush of his fingers. She knew her body well, and she wasn’t just wet; she was slick. Something he’d just learned for himself, she guessed from his groan.
He kissed her long and hard and deep until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t keep track of what he was doing. With a start she realized he’d positioned himself between her legs, one hand caressing the inside of her thigh, stroking higher, higher. Until she arched up to meet his hand.
Like flashes of lightning, the sensations started to burst through her body in intermittent strikes. Shimmering pleasurably one second, exploding the next until at last she convulsed against him. He trembled as he entered her, slowly, before the last shock wave faded.
Looming over her, braced by one arm, he touched the side of her face as he sank into her. She felt weak, spent, yet more alive than she’d ever dreamed possible. He partially withdrew, then thrust into her again, deeper. A cry escaped her and she hooked a leg around him, urging him to go on, to ease the pressure that had started building all over again. He found her ankle, and lifting her other leg, he pulled them both around his waist and thrust with a force that brought her off the mattress.
Three more deep thrusts and another climax pulsed into life. Her body arched convulsively, and behind her eyelids, the darkness shimmered with a thousand pricks of white light.
Lucas slowed suddenly, his body shuddering violently on a final thrust. A low harsh groan came from deep in his throat. They were both trembling when he withdrew from her, careful not to crush her as he sagged against her body before rolling onto his back.
“I saw them,” she murmured, almost too weak to lay her hand on his heaving chest.
“What, honey?” He stroked her hair. “What did you see?”
“Stars.”
11
LYING FLAT ON his back, Lucas finally gained control of his breathing. He put his arm around Melanie and tucked her warm naked body against his side. Sighing, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder and curled into him. His chest tightened. He didn’t know why. Probably because the sex had been good. Better than good. Incredible. Too fast, though.
He glanced at the nightstand clock. They had a couple of hours before he had to leave. If not for her damn neighbors he would’ve liked to stay the night. Not his usual style. He preferred waking up alone, with the windows wide-open—hot or cold outside, it didn’t matter.
She lifted her head. Her smile was shy. “We don’t have to stay in bed if you don’t want to. We can go to the kitchen.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No.” She hesitated, her lashes fluttering when he swept the hair away from her eyes. “I know you’re hungry.”
“Is my belly causing a ruckus?”
“A little bit,” she said with a soft laugh.
“Don’t listen to it.” He shifted so that their gazes met. “It’s got no manners.”
For a long, quiet, crazy moment they just smiled at each other.
He pushed his fingers into her thick brown hair, lightly rubbing her scalp, watching her eyelids droop. She liked having her head massaged. That was one of several discoveries he’d made about her. She liked rubbing her nipples against his chest—something he appreciated—and she loved it when he nibbled her earlobe. He was getting hard again thinking about all the sweet helpless sounds she made when he touched her in the right place.
Lucas brushed his mouth across her cheek to her ear and waited for the soft sigh that would part her lips. When it came, he leaned in to kiss her.
“Wait.” She opened her eyes. “I’m going to ask you something,” she said, suddenly alert and serious. “And I want you to please be honest.”
That was not something a man wanted to hear after making love to a woman.
She bit her lip. “Was I loud?”
For the second time in the span of a minute, Lucas was at a loss. At one point they’d both gotten loud. “Are you kidding?” he asked, deciding to tease her out of fretting about it. “They could hear you at the Sundance.”
Her eyes troubled, she jerked her head when he tried to cup her cheek. “I’m serious.”
“Melanie.” He covered her hand. It was cold and he squeezed gently. “I don’t think we made enough noise to worry about. I really don’t.”
She stared for a moment. Finally her lips lifted in a smile that seemed strained. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Look, I know you’re a teacher. It’s a small town. I get it. But you’re allowed to have a life, and the only way your neighbors could’ve heard was if they’d been listening at their open windows.”
“No, you don’t get it.” She looked so miserable that all he wanted to do was hold her. “You really don’t, because I haven’t told you everything. I’m not sure why I’m telling you now.”
He sat up, his back against the pillows, then gathered her in his arms. His cock was finally calming down. “I’m listening.”
She pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts. “I guess I’m telling you because I don’t want you to think I’m being silly or overreacting about protecting my privacy.”
“Okay,” he said, growing mildly concerned over t
he tension he felt in her body.
“My father is a minister. He has quite a large congregation, including most of my students.” She sighed. “And neighbors.”
Speechless yet again, Lucas let the new information trickle through his brain. He had no idea what he’d expected her to say but it wasn’t that she was a preacher’s daughter. Where he came from, small-town preachers and their families lived in glass houses and were held to strict standards. Man, back in high school, guys knew to stay away from the preacher’s daughters...even the wild, rebellious ones who had something to prove.
He flashed back to yesterday, to Gertrude and Pauline and how Melanie spent most of her spare time reaching out to the community. How she hadn’t once visited the local bar. It all made sense now.
“Jesus,” he muttered, then sent her a look of apology. He glanced down where the sheet gaped, exposing part of her breast, and he pulled his arms away from her. “You do a nice thing like invite me to dinner and here I am taking advantage of you.”
She gasped, her eyes widening. “I hope you’re joking.”
“Are you?”
“No, of course not.”
Hell, he didn’t think so. “Look, Melanie, if I had known...”
“Stop it.” Her tone was angry. “Just stop it,” she repeated, more calmly. She let go of the sheet, baring her breasts to him. He cursed himself because he had to look. She was gorgeous. “Thinking you took advantage of me is ridiculous. Was I not a participant?” She’d moved closer, reclaiming the small space he’d put between them. “If I’ve seemed skittish, it’s because I need to be careful, and frankly, before you, I never had to think about it.”
She curled a hand around the back of his neck, leaned in to kiss him, her breasts grazing his chest. It was tempting to let the conversation die. Let their bodies do the talking. But he owed it to her to tell her about himself. He doubted his incarceration would ever become public knowledge, but with Shea returning tomorrow and everything still up in the air with Safe Haven, he couldn’t be sure. If a deal wasn’t struck between the sanctuary and PRN, he didn’t want the blame resting on his shoulders. But most of all, he didn’t want Melanie hurt.
Need You Now Page 12