A Crazy Kind of Love

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A Crazy Kind of Love Page 11

by Maureen Child


  The small group of musicians in the corner were playing something soft and fluid. The notes drifted on the still air and settled over the softly murmuring crowd like a gift.

  “You dance?”

  “On occasion.”

  He led her toward the empty space in front of the small string orchestra and then turned her into his arms. He moved to the music and held her so close that not moving wasn’t an option. His legs shifted, hers went along for the ride. His hand on her bare back felt warm and strong. His chest, pressed to hers, felt broad and muscled. He led her around the floor, moving in and out of the other dancers with the ease of a man who knew just what he was doing.

  Champagne bubbles frothed in her brain and something just as delicious pumped through the rest of her body. The lights in the ballroom were soft, subtle, making for shadowed corners and quiet conversation. Couples swayed on the dance floor while others slipped through the French doors onto the stone balcony overlooking the gardens.

  Mike pulled her head back to look up at Lucas and found him already watching her. A half-smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said and the smile slowly spread. “Just wondering how many other men ever get the chance to dance with their plumber.”

  Her own mouth twitched. “A select few.”

  “So I should be honored.”

  “Oh yeah,” Mike assured him as he swept her into a turn that had her head spinning. “Whoa,” she said, her left hand clutching at his shoulder, “you’re good at this.”

  He grinned down at her. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

  “Such as?”

  “You want a list?”

  “A short one,” she quipped, her gaze holding his. “Don’t have my memo pad on me.”

  “Short, then,” he agreed, his grin slowly fading as his gaze drifted from her eyes, to her mouth to her breasts and then back up again.

  Fire.

  Fire leaped to life inside her and Mike felt every flicker of every flame dancing along her nerve endings.

  His grip on her right hand tightened, his arm around her waist squeezed.

  “I’m a scientist,” he said softly, “so I’m good with the details.”

  “Uh-huh.” Breathless now, she simply stared into his brown eyes and watched as reflections of the light in the room glanced off the lenses of his glasses.

  “I like to take my time,” he said, his voice dropping another notch or two. “Start off slow and build to the major discoveries.”

  “Good idea,” she said and stumbled slightly in his grasp.

  “I focus on the task at hand,” he said and dropped his head so that his voice hummed in her ear, his breath brushed her skin in a warm caress. His hand at the small of her back dipped down, lower and lower, until his fingertips were just above her behind—so close . . . and yet still so far.

  “Mmm . . .”

  “Explore every nuance,” he was saying, and she barely heard him over the roaring in her ears.

  “Exploring’s good,” Mike murmured, and silently congratulated herself on making her voice work at all. A knot of something hot and hard was lodged in her throat and it wasn’t helping the situation any to feel something hard and hot pressing into her abdomen, the closer he held her.

  She was damp and ready and so damn eager, she could hardly believe it herself. She’d thought she was doing him a favor. The poor scientist, without a date. She’d thought him a little cute, but a little awkward.

  Now, Mike knew if she didn’t get him upstairs within the next few minutes, she was going to dissolve into a really messy little puddle of want, right in the middle of the dance floor.

  “Oh yeah,” Lucas said, and nibbled at her earlobe as he carefully led her through another turn. “Exploring, finding your way through new territory, is always the best part.”

  “Oh boy,” she said on a sigh of breath that started at her toes and worked its way up. “And you’re good with the details.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “How good?”

  He lifted his head and looked down at her, eyes narrowed. In his gaze, she read the same level of greed and hunger she knew was shining in her own eyes.

  “Damn good.”

  Mike sucked in a breath and held it. Every inch of her body was trembling, waiting, filled with a sense of expectation she hadn’t known in a long time.

  She felt as though ever since the moment she and Lucas had met, they’d been heading toward this moment. Before she’d come away on this weekend, she’d known this would happen. And a part of her had been counting on it.

  Swallowing hard, she accepted the inevitability of it all as she said, “Prove it.”

  It wasn’t easy getting away from the crowd.

  But Lucas had never been more motivated.

  Keeping a firm grip on her hand, he made his way through the crowded main floor, nodding and smiling at people he passed, but keeping his attention focused on the goal.

  Upstairs.

  A bed.

  Mike.

  The party was winding down anyway, he told himself. The invited guests would soon be making their way out to their cars and heading home. The few board members present would stay up late, have a few more drinks, then retire to their own rooms.

  He was just beating them to it.

  Mike lifted the hem of her dress and took the stairs at a dead run, keeping pace with him. Her laughter bubbled up around them, as intoxicating as the champagne. Grinning like a fool, he charged down the dimly lit hall, dragging her in his wake.

  Outside her room, Mike fumbled with the key until Lucas muttered a frustrated oath, took it from her, shoved it home and turned the knob. Ushering her inside, he was right behind her, closing the door and flipping the lock again. When he turned to face her, she was in the center of the shadowy room, standing in a spill of moonlight cascading through the open French doors. Sheer white curtains lifted and danced in the ocean breeze.

  As he watched, she reached up and pulled three long pins out of her hair, releasing the blond curls to tumble about her shoulders.

  She tossed the pins at a nearby dresser as Lucas reached for his tie and tore it off, opening his collar button just so he could breathe. Then he forgot about breathing, forgot about everything in his need to touch her.

  Three long strides brought him to her side and he caught her in a viselike embrace, pulling her tight against him. Spearing his fingers through the curls he’d wanted to touch all night, he cupped the back of her head in his palm and held her for his kiss.

  He took her mouth with a desperation that had been building all night. He’d watched her socialize in his world, and though she hadn’t known a damn soul, she’d made herself at home. She’d smiled and laughed and chatted and had charmed some of those stuffed shirts into enjoying themselves at a fund-raiser.

  He’d met her gaze many times during his speech, and though he knew she must have been bored senseless, she’d watched him with eager anticipation. He’d sensed her gaze on his while he was working the room, and every time he turned around, his gaze met hers and he felt the slam of something hot and powerful.

  She was like no one he’d ever met.

  She reached him in places no one ever had.

  And he wanted her more than he wanted to see his precious research come to fruition.

  At the first touch of his mouth to hers, an instant, damn near electrical surge pulsed inside him. Her lips parted for his tongue and she sighed into him. He took her breath then gave it back. His tongue entwined with hers, tasting, exploring, defining. Heat spilled through him and Lucas held her tighter, closer, sweeping one hand down to her behind and pressing her tightly to him, easing the pain in his own throbbing body.

  She groaned and fed his hunger. She held him, stroking her hands up and down his back, and all he could think was, he wanted her skin on his. Flesh to flesh, heat to heat, hard to soft.

  He needed.

  Damn it, he didn
’t want to need, but there it was, clamoring inside him.

  He tore his mouth from hers and ran his lips along her jaw, then down the column of her throat. She shivered and he felt it. She sighed and he echoed it. She was everything.

  She was the center.

  He tasted the pulse beat at the base of her neck and smiled at the ragged beating of her heart. He tasted her, nipping her flesh, sweeping his tongue across her skin.

  “Oh God . . .”

  Her whispered, broken words fed the flames within and Lucas straightened up, moving his hands to the back of her neck. He found the hook-and-eye closure of her gown and, with a quick flick of his fingertips, released the silky black fabric. He stepped back to admire the view as the bodice of her dress dropped away, freeing her breasts.

  Her nipples peaked and he smiled hungrily, already wanting to taste her, to suckle her.

  He cupped her breasts in his hands, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tweaking, teasing, tugging until she rocked on her feet unsteadily.

  “Okay, that’s . . . good. Really good.”

  “Glad you approve.”

  “So far? Oh yeah.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him blearily. “But I think you’re wearing too many clothes.”

  “I think you’re right.” He reluctantly let her go and stepped back. Then he held up one finger. “Don’t move.”

  “Don’t think I can,” she quipped, “so, not a problem.”

  Lucas tore off his jacket and shirt, feeling her gaze linger over his body. She heated him through.

  He stepped back close, pulled her up against him, and, just for a minute, enjoyed the feel of her breasts pressed against him. “You feel even better than you look.”

  “Same goes,” she murmured, dipping her head to kiss his shoulder, his neck, his throat. Her teeth nibbled at his skin and every cell in Lucas’s body tightened.

  “I want you bad,” he admitted. “Didn’t expect to.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she said, chuckling softly.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do.” She pulled back and looked up at him. With the moonlight behind her, her eyes were in shadow, but Lucas didn’t need to read them to know what she meant when she said, “I feel the same way. You kind of sneaked up on me, Rocket Man. Not sure how I feel about that.”

  “Me, neither.”

  She nodded and slid her palms slowly up his chest, defining every muscle, testing the feel of his skin against her own. Until finally, she hooked her hands behind his neck and pushed herself closer, tighter, to him. “But we can talk about that another time, right?”

  “Oh yeah,” he agreed, releasing a shaky breath. “No talk right now.”

  “My kind of man,” she said and squeaked when he bent and picked her up, swinging her into his arms. “So, you gonna show off those exploratory moves you were bragging about?”

  “Every damn one,” he promised.

  9

  Mike inhaled slowly, deeply, and Lucas couldn’t help but watch her truly exceptional breasts rise and fall as she did.

  “Way to go, Rocket Man.”

  He grinned, carried her to the wide, king-sized bed, then dropped her onto the mattress from such a height she bounced once or twice before settling. When she had, she propped herself up on her elbows and unabashedly let him look his fill.

  “I’ve been thinking about getting you out of that dress since the moment you opened the door tonight.”

  “Then get busy.”

  “Good point.”

  He joined her on the bed and lowered his head immediately to take first one of her nipples then the other into his mouth. He tasted her thoroughly, swiping his tongue across each pebbled surface until she moaned and writhed beneath him. He ran the edge of his teeth over her skin, tormenting her, torturing them both. His hands swept the hem of her gown up and up the length of her legs. No stockings. Just bare, warm, smooth flesh. Higher, higher, as he tasted her, his hands explored her. Up her calves and along the inside of her thighs, higher, higher, to the center of her.

  And when he cupped her, his heart stopped.

  He lifted his head and stared down into her glassy pale blue eyes. “No underwear?”

  She licked her lips, breathed heavily, and managed a shrug. “Dress was too clingy. Would’ve seen lines.”

  “God help me,” he whispered as he pushed first one finger, then another into her depths and watched her eyes widen. “If I’d known that, I never would have made it through my speech.”

  She groaned and lifted her hips into his invading touch. “Surprise.”

  His thumb caressed the small, sensitive bud of flesh at her center and she moaned.

  “I never used to like surprises,” he murmured, moving, pulling his hand free of her body despite her groan of disappointment. He shifted position until he was kneeling between her legs. “Do you?”

  “Huh?” She lifted her head off the mattress and watched him as he lifted her legs and laid them across his shoulders.

  The hem of her dress pooled at her hips as he slipped his hands beneath her bottom and scooped her high off the bed.

  “Oh yeah,” she whispered, swallowing hard, “I love ’em.”

  “Good. Surprise,” he said and covered her with his mouth. Her scent filled him. Her taste flooded him. He sucked at her core, running his tongue over her sensitive flesh until she twisted in his grasp, grabbing fistfuls of the lacy spread beneath her.

  Again and again, he licked her, exploring her with his mouth, discovering what made her shiver, finding the secrets to her body. His hands squeezed the soft flesh of her behind and held her steady when she continued to rock her hips helplessly under his tender assault.

  Mouth, tongue, teeth, he sent her to the edge again and again, only to pull her back and leave her dangling helplessly on the cusp of completion.

  “Lucas,” she finally cried brokenly, “you son of a bitch, if you don’t finish me, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

  “You’ll just have to hurt me, then,” he teased, pausing just long enough to look up at her. Her eyes were wild, her breath frantic. “Because we won’t be finished for a long time.”

  “You’re killing me here,” she whispered and reached for him.

  “I’m just getting started.”

  “Lucas, I want—”

  “I know just what you want,” he said softly, then dipped his head to send her back to the edge of oblivion. He knew now just where to devote his attention. Knew when to move faster, slower, knew when to lick, when to nip, and this time when she climbed to the peak, he gave her that final nudge she wanted so desperately. He felt her body quiver in his hands as she whimpered with the release quaking within. And as the last tremor rocked through her, he eased her back down onto the bed, then reached for her dress and pulled it down and off, tossing it to the floor behind him.

  He stared, looking his fill, and in the moonlight, the diamond-topped gold bar in her navel glinted. His mouth watered and his breathing hitched.

  Sex.

  Sex in the moonlight.

  She was all that and more.

  So much more, he didn’t want to think about it.

  Instead, he kept his tone light as he asked, “You pierced your belly button?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I tried to pretty things up a little down there.”

  Then he saw what she was talking about.

  Her skin shone like fine porcelain in the glow of the moon—except for the smattering of tiny scars stretching across her belly like a gossamer spiderweb.

  Her breath shuddered from her lungs and she smiled lazily, satisfaction glittering in her eyes as she watched him.

  Lucas reached out and gently ran his fingertips across the fine, fragile-looking scars. Hunger reared back as an unexpected sense of tenderness caught him by the throat and squeezed.

  “Hey,” she said quietly, “I know they’re ugly, but fascinating?”

  “Not ugly,” he said,
meeting her gaze. “What happened?”

  Mike sucked in air, then stretched languidly, despite the sudden pounding in her head. Briefly, she wished they could have avoided this, but only a blind man could miss the tangle of fading, silvery scars that stretched across her skin. Reaching down, she caught his hand in hers and spread his palm flat against her belly.

  “Don’t look so serious,” she said, regretting again that she had to have this talk. Anytime she got close with a man, she was forced to relive a memory she preferred to keep buried. Normally, she gave a guy a song and dance story that wouldn’t have the power to touch her. Because anything else would just bring back a night she’d rather forget.

  God knows she hated reliving the past, hated remembering that a stupid decision made by a foolish teenage girl had so affected her future. Most times, she was able to put it out of her mind, tell herself it didn’t matter.

  But it did, of course it did.

  Hell, it was the reason she avoided landing herself in a serious relationship. It was the reason she kept away from anything that went deeper than lust and dated only guys who were looking for the “right now” instead of “forever.” The reason she couldn’t have the complete Fairy Tale. The reason that a marriage and kids would never be a part of her life.

  Lucas was still watching her, waiting. And for some reason she really didn’t want to explore at the moment, she heard herself tell him the truth. If an abbreviated version.

  “It happened a long time ago. A car I was riding in crashed. I got hurt.”

  He pulled his hand free of hers and once again lightly traced the pattern of scars with the tips of his fingers. “Pretty bad, was it?”

  Oh God, yes, she almost said, but pushed that response away in favor of a smile. She wasn’t here to share her feelings and learn and grow. And she was pretty sure Lucas wasn’t interested in hearing the sad story of her misspent youth.

  So instead, she said, “Yeah, it was. And the scars will always be there—hence the whole piercing-my-belly-button. I know it’s like planting roses in the middle of a parking lot—but hey. Who doesn’t love gold and diamonds?”

  “The scars aren’t ugly, Mike,” he said, his voice a low rumble of compassion. Tenderness. She felt the sting of unwanted tears behind her eyes and determinedly kept them at bay with sheer force of will.

 

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