Dreaming of a Hero (Heroes Series Book 2)

by Lyssa Layne

  “Close your eyes!” I shout, sounding like a crazy woman.

  “Relax, dude. You’re not naked. Holy shit, did you get drunk last night, or what?” Madi’s condescending tone is only slightly less apparent than her blatant amusement at my most mortifying morning ever in the history of mornings.

  “I resent that,” Lucas grumbles, slowly but surely sitting upright. “I’ll have you know that no mind altering substances were involved here.”

  “God, I wish.” At least then I could blame it on something other than my own poor judgement.

  “Well, thank goodness for that.” Madi’s sarcasm is set at high as usual. “I’m glad to hear it was a clear headed decision that led to my aunt and my cousin hooking up.”

  I think it’s safe to say we’re all wide awake now.

  “That…that is not okay!” I shake my finger at her in the most parental way I can muster. I suck at being parental.

  “Damn, Madi.” Lucas shakes his head, his palm gliding over my calf and I realize half of my body is still draped over his lap, and he’s not doing anything about it, even after we’ve just been accused of incest. Gross.

  “I’m just fucking with you guys.” She grins. “I think it’s great.”

  Somehow, this doesn’t make me feel any better. “It’s not great, it’s a mess. And you better not say shit to anyone ever.”

  A dirty look from Lucas keeps me talking. “At least not until after we have a chance to figure out a better approach.”

  Madi lifts her brow at me. “A better approach than being busted sleeping together on your couch? Man, I hope you find a better approach than that. Can you imagine the look on Pru’s face?”

  I can. Oh my God, I totally can.

  “I need to get up.” I try to free my legs so I can move them to the floor. So I can stand up. So I can not be touching Lucas. Pru’s son.

  “You need to calm down.” His arms lean into my thighs, his weight resting in my lap making it nearly impossible to move.

  “Don’t tell me what to do!” I screech. Because this idea of being with Lucas suddenly doesn’t seem so hot in the light of day, with reality creeping in on us along with the sun. I like the dark better. It hides things, like inappropriate relationships that could have sent me to jail ten years ago.

  One hand curls around the back of my neck and drags me to him, until his lips crush mine and all attempts to yell at him to stop become futile because I no longer want him to.

  “You guys are nasty,” Madi sneers somewhere in the background right before she fades away all together.

  “Remember now?” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine.

  “Uh-huh.” I do. Whatever this is happening between us, there’s no escaping it. There’s only facing whatever comes next. And for some inexplicable reason, he always makes me believe that I’m up to the task, even when I’m trying to convince myself I’m not.

  “Good.” He smiles. God, it’s a great smile. Was it always this great? I don’t remember ever noticing, not until five years ago when he came home for my father’s funeral. When he kept me from falling. Or so I thought. Maybe I did fall. For him. All this time he’s been gone, it’s been easy to ignore. Easy to forget. But hasn’t some part of me been waiting for him to come back for me ever since? Isn’t that the real reason I’ve been avoiding dating and men and all the mess that goes with it? Because really he’s the only one worth any of it?

  “Are you going to tell your mother?”

  “Eventually.”

  I don’t know if this makes me feel better or not. “What does that mean?”

  His eyes crinkle in the corners, a warmth pouring out of them and into me. “It means you’re not ready, but eventually you will be, and that’s when we’ll tell my mother. That’s when we’ll tell everyone.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t realize this was about me. “I could be ready.”

  He chuckles quietly, turning his head toward the doorway Madi disappeared through not too long ago. “You’re not ready.”

  “Fine. I didn’t handle Madi’s reaction to us very well, but I wasn’t prepared. If I had been prepared, I wouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

  “So, you plan on walking into the shop today and telling the girls that you and I are together now?” He’s testing me. Ugh, and I’m gonna fail.

  “Not exactly.” Mouth would engage in a ridicule fest from now until Christmas. I’d never survive it. “But I was thinking about telling Sketch.”

  “Thinking about telling your best friend. Wow. You’re right. You are ready.”

  “You’re mocking me.”

  “Only slightly.” He smacks his lips on mine briefly, then stands up straight, with me still cradled in his arms. “I promise I’ll get more serious about it after you tell me how you’re going to let me hold your hand when no one is looking. Or how about when you explain to me how I can call and text anytime I like, but that you have to list my number in your phone under Lucy instead of Lucas.”

  “What are you doing going through my phone?”

  “Fixing my name in your contacts!”

  “Wait! Where are we going?” We’re on the move. Already in the hallway.

  “Shower. You have to get ready for work and I have to help you wash your hair.”

  “I don’t need help washing my hair.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll help you wash something else. I’m not picky.”

  “You’re not getting in the shower with me.”

  “Don’t make me kiss you again, Liv.”

  “That’s not always going to work, you know. Kissing me isn’t a one-way ticket to getting what you want.”

  A wicked grin flashes on his face. My legs feel weak and I’m not even standing on them.

  “Care to test it out right now?”

  “No.” I cover my face with both hands just in case. “We can shower together, but no kissing!”

  “Whatever you say.” But he’s mocking me again. Even if the water runs cold, I’m about to have the hottest shower of my life.

  “Are you going to set me down at some point before we reach the bathroom? I’d really rather not step under the water fully clothed,” I remark dryly as we pass my bed and approach the small hall lined with my closets on both sides and located right outside my bathroom door.

  “I don’t trust you not to escape,” he counters, grinning slyly.

  “So you plan to weigh me down with soggy wet sweats and a soaked tank top to keep me from running?” Judging by the way his eyes are crinkled at the corners in complete amusement, I’m not helping my argument any.

  “For someone who claims not to want to get naked with me, you sure are awfully anxious to get your clothes off.”

  I open my mouth briefly. Nothing comes out. I close it again.

  We’ve stopped anyway.

  Standing in front of the vanity, I can feel his grip loosening as he guides my body to slowly glide down the front of his own. He’s solid. And strong. The heat coming off of him is enough to make me wish for another frozen pea packet.

  When my feet hit the cold tile, I look up, expecting some smartass comment from him about my obvious desire to rip off all of his clothes as well as my own. Instead, I’m greeted with such an intense stare, I realize the laughing portion of the morning has come to an end. I may never laugh again. The way my breath catches in my throat, talking may be out as well.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispers, leaning in close enough to kiss me, but turning just slightly and missing my mouth, forcing me to suppress an actual whimper. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be kissed so badly in all my life.

  “Why?” My thoughts go way beyond why, but why is a one syllable word, utter-able even under duress and while breathless, so that’s all I’m getting out.

  I can’t see his mouth anymore because I’ve sunk too deeply into the endless abyss of his tantalizing green eyes, but I can tell he’s smiling again. Not grinning from ear to ear, but smiling without doubt, and the thought warms
me to my core in the most pleasant surge of butterflies I’ve felt in a long time.

  “Why do you need to close your eyes? Because you’ve proven to be too immature to handle nudity. And because I said so. Now do it,” he growls softly. And this time, I feel my lids flutter shut before I even give it a second thought.

  With a softness hard to imagine from a man, his fingers trace over my skin, down my arms and around my back, coming around the sides of my waist, carefully moving along the hem of my shirt and slowly lifting it. He pauses and I know he’s checking to see if I’ll peek, but I don’t.

  The worn cotton glides over my stomach and chest, and my hands slowly reach for the ceiling as it comes up over my face, leaving my body entirely.

  His chest brushes against mine as he navigates around me, his hands coming back to my shoulders, trailing down the front of my collarbone and back out around the sides of my breasts, following a path along my waist to my hips and eventually finding themselves anchored in the drawstring of my sweatpants. I feel him tug at the knot, loosening it. Then both hands slide under the fabric, his thumbs hooking into my panties and moving along my hips toward my thighs. They keep going and my pants along with them, and still, I never open my eyes. I don’t need to. I can see it all anyway. Every touch. Every sensation. His scent. His sounds. It’s the most extraordinary, most vivid experience I’ve ever shared with anyone.

  Standing here, completely bared and vulnerable, I’m surprised to find that I feel neither. I feel safe. I feel sexy. Beautiful. And wanted.

  The warmth of his body moves away from me briefly and when he returns, I know he’s no longer wearing his pants either.

  “Can I open my eyes yet?”

  His lips brush my skin, along my neck, right below my ear. “No.”

  Both hands land firmly on my waist as he begins to turn me and guide me toward the shower.

  His arm rubs against my side as he reaches up and starts the water before we step inside. I can feel the mist of cold spray, but it doesn’t take long before it turns to steam. I’d like to take credit, but regardless of how hot my insides are, I probably can’t claim to evaporate water just yet.

  Standing behind me, he wraps one arm over my stomach, bringing me to him until nearly every inch of my backside is touching him. Touching him, torturing me. I don’t want to have my eyes closed anymore. I don’t want to have my back to him. Most of all, I’m no longer interested in being a non-participant. I want to touch. I want to feel. Taste. See. I want it all. All of him. Now.

  “Lucas,” I plead. It’s not like me to beg, but here I am. Begging.

  “Not yet,” he breathes, hot lips moving in on my neck again. His free hand dances over my skin, along with the water, teasing me while his tongue starts to swirl in circles, the sensation of both is enough to send every thought from my mind. I can’t think anymore. There’s no thinking. There’s only Lucas. And his mouth. Nipping and sucking at the crook of my neck, encouraging me to lean back, into him, giving him access to continue his journey down over my collarbone and back up. Over and over again, he works his way up and down my neck, along my jaw, kissing my chin, my cheek, my temple, back down to my earlobe and neck. Everywhere except my mouth. It’s all-consuming and at the same time entirely infuriating.

  When his hand moves from my breast down between my thighs, I can’t take it any longer.

  Torn between the pull of wanting to feel more of the euphoric sensations he’s conjuring inside me with just the use of his tongue and fingers, and the need to have more, to have it all, I squirm in his arms, intent on turning around to face him and yet unable to break away from the intensity already building within me to the point of near explosion.

  “You play dirty,” I mutter incoherently, completely drunk on him.

  “You made the rules,” he reminds me, his hot breath wreaking havoc against my throat. “You said no kissing. So, you’re not kissing.”

  “I take it back,” I whisper, my body moving completely at his will now.

  “If you insist.” And his mouth lands on mine, his tongue finding its way inside as his hand moves from my stomach up to my throat. He wraps his fingers around it gently, slowly turning me toward him until his fingers are twined in my hair. Then he starts all over again. This time there are no boundaries, no restrictions. There are no rules to his game and he proves it, finding his way down every inch of my body, leaving behind a lasting trail of mind-bending pleasure everywhere he touches. It’s not until I’m gasping for air and calling out his name for the whole damn world to hear, that I realize, I never did open my eyes.

  Lucas

  “Heartbreaker in the back?” I ask, passing Cherry at the desk.

  “She had to step outside. She’ll be back in a few.”

  I stop walking. “Outside where?”

  “Just…outside.” She fumbles with her pen, unsure what to say. Or better yet, what not to say. “Did she know you were coming by?”

  Feeling my fists clench at my sides I start moving again. “Yeah. She knows.”

  I don’t slow down for the daily intimidation from Mouth. I don’t smile at Princess, who in turn skips ogling me like I’m a new ice cream flavor she’s been dying to try. I don’t even stop to say hi to Sketch, even when she calls out for me. I don’t stop. I don’t slow down. Not when I reach the back door. Not even when I hit it so hard it slams back into the outside wall. Not until I see her. See him.

  “Marcus.”

  “Shit.” Liv’s face fills with something I’m not used to seeing there. Fear. “Lucas, go back inside. Please.”

  “Lucas? As in Lucas McNealy?” Marcus laughs. What in the hell he finds so fucking funny I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll shut up real fast if Liv leaves me alone with him for a minute or two.

  “Been a long time since we saw each other last. I’d ask how you’ve been doing, except I don’t give a shit.” I take my stand beside her. If I had my way, I’d be between them, shielding her. But I know her. She’ll never let me protect her from something she believes she can handle on her own, and Marcus qualifies as her problem, at least in her mind.

  He clicks his tongue at me. “Now is that any way to talk to an old friend? We’re practically family. Really, Lucas. Mommy and daddy would be so disappointed.”

  “Stop it, Marcus,” Liv snaps. “I mean it. Leave him out of this.”

  “No, don’t. Whatever this is. I’m in it.” I take another step forward. I’d like nothing better than to grab two fistfuls of his designer shirt and drag him off the property by it. Straight into traffic.

  “No, you’re not.” Liv’s facing me full on now, her back to her brother – a bad idea on any given day, especially bad when he’s standing there ready to pounce. “I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not. I’ve got this under control. I swear.”

  “Well, well. Guess I don’t have to ask you what you’re doing these days, Lucas. It’s clearly my sister.”

  Her hands land on my chest the same time I start to lunge forward. She stops me. “Please.” The fear in her eyes is growing and I know the only way to snuff it out is to do what she’s asking, no matter how much I hate it.

  “Finish this. Fast,” I force out under my breath. “Or I’ll be back out here to finish it my way.”

  “Three minutes. That’s all I need.” She does her best to smile, but it’s not remotely believable. Then she turns away from me to take on her brother again, and I have no choice but to walk away. Go back inside.

  I sit here on the other side of the back door for what feels like a hell of a lot longer than three minutes. This time, none of the girls try to talk to me. No one even looks at me. I just sit here, on some old busted chair missing the panels on the backrest. I’m not sure if it’s on its way to the dumpster or waiting for repairs. I sit here and stare at the door, willing it to open. To see her walk in so I can breathe again. I hate this. I hate Marcus. Most of all I hate knowing what he’s capable of taking from me, and he wouldn’t need three minut
es to do it.

  Finally, it swings open, nearly taking me out in the process. I shouldn’t have moved that chair so close to the door.

  “What the hell was that about?” I demand, because being pissed is way safer than letting her see how fucking terrified I was two seconds ago.

  “Business,” she says curtly, moving past me.

  I catch her elbow before she gets away. “What kind of business?”

  “I’m not going to tell you, so just drop it.”

  “That’s not gonna cut it, Liv. What does he want? What is he even doing here?” Pissed is fading fast and fear is creeping in again. I can hear it in my own fucking voice.

  “I’m not telling you!” She gets louder, yanking her arm from my grip, but she’s not walking away this time.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I don’t want you anywhere near this. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with him and his bullshit. I’m not going to let you get wrapped up in any of it.” She pauses, taking several long breaths, and I realize for the first time since she walked in that her chest is covered in hives. It’s hard to tell through the ink, but now that I see it it’s undeniable. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

  I’m shaking my head before I even get the words out. “No, Goddammit. Don’t you do that. Don’t you fucking use Marcus as an excuse. You want out, you say it. To my face, straight forward. You don’t break out your stupid list of reasons and add to it with another bullshit one.”

  “It’s not bullshit. You know Marcus. I can’t fucking help that I’m related to him any more than I can help that our father left him half of this place. All I can do, is try and make sure that no one else is hurt by him, and that includes you.” Her bottom lip rolls inward as her teeth begin to work it over.

  I take a step closer to her, placing my hands carefully onto her waist. I half expect her to shake them off, but she doesn’t. “This wasn’t a mistake,” I whisper so only she can hear. I can only imagine the show we’ve put on for everyone behind us. “I’ll stay away from Marcus.”

  “Promise?”

  “No.” I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. “I’ll try though. That’s the best I can do.”