“I got something,” Rio said. He shoved his shoulder against the base of the loveseat and pushed his arm deeper. The sound of tape ripping brought everyone forward for a closer look.
Rio eased his arm out of the loveseat’s undercarriage and rose to his feet, a small manila envelope in hand. Dead silence rocked the room as he carefully eased open the clasp and looked inside. Seconds later he whistled.
“Someone give me an evidence bag.” His fingers were tense as he resealed the clasp.
“Diamonds?” Lucas asked, rubbing Emma’s back.
He smiled as she sighed and cuddled into him. She didn’t seem as sore tonight as she’d been in the morning, or over the past few days. Nor did her face look as haggard and white. Apparently kidnapping suited her.
“A motherlode of them. Blue and white,” Rio said, dropping the small brown envelope into the plastic sheath someone handed him. “We need to go over this couch carefully. Make sure he didn’t stash a couple of envelopes somewhere else too.”
“It’s a loveseat,” Emma and Samantha corrected him in unison.
Rio shrugged. He started to hand the plastic evidence bag off, only to glance at Emma and hesitate. “You want to see them?”
“Not particularly.” She laughed as Lucas raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never been fond of diamonds. They’re such an icy stone. Now if they were emeralds or sapphires, I’d be over there in a heartbeat.”
Lucas committed that fact to memory.
“If you change your mind, they’ll be down at the station,” Rio said, handing the evidence bag off.
“Are we done here?” Lucas glanced at his watch. “Emma’s got a delivery scheduled in half an hour and she needs to be there to open the door.”
“I do?” She pulled back to scan his face. “How odd. I don’t recall scheduling a delivery. Certainly not at eight p.m.” But there was a smile in her eyes.
He kissed the top of her head. “It should be there by the time we get to your place.”
It had cost a small fortune to convince the furniture store to make the delivery so late at night, but in the long run, it would be worth every penny he’d paid.
* * *
Emma bounced on the mattress of the king size bed that Lucas, along with three delivery men, had wrestled into her bedroom. They were lucky they’d been able to maneuver the damn thing into place. Her room was small, like double bed small. This behemoth took up the entire space, leaving barely enough room to walk around it or open the drawers to her dresser—which they’d stuck in the back corner.
The delivery should have irritated her. Purchasing a bed was an intimate decision, with lots of considerations to factor in. Like height and mattress firmness—and making sure the bed didn’t overwhelm the room.
She bounced again, a flurry of excitement and joyous anticipation bubbling through her. It was difficult to pretend irritation when the sheer size of the gift set off a whole host of giddy expectations.
This was a bed for two. A couple’s bed.
“You realize I don’t have sheets or blankets that will fit this thing?” she said, with a third, breathless bounce.
Her last bed, the one he’d hauled to the dump, had been a double. It’s size limitations had been why they’d spent the entire weekend in his bed…his king size bed.
“We’ll make due for tonight and go shopping tomorrow.” He leaned against the doorframe, watching her, a ravenous gleam burning in his amber eyes.
Another bounce. “You’re staying?”
He straightened, pacing toward her with a lithe, predatory stride. “If you’ll have me.”
Chills feathered up her spine, tingled across her scalp. Oh she’d have him, as much of him as he’d allow.
“For how long?” For the first time, tentativeness touched her voice. He’d been so adamant that they didn’t suit. Had he really changed his mind?
His face softened as he paused in front of her. Leaning down, he caught her hands and gently drew her to her feet. He kissed the scraped knuckles of one hand and then the other before looking up and holding her gaze.
“As long as you’ll have me.”
“Then that would be forever,” she whispered, her arms sliding around his neck.
A low grumble of disapproval brought both their heads around.
Lucas laughed. “You’re gonna have to get used to sharing her,” he told the dog glaring up at them.
With a sneer, Cuddles pivoted and stalked out of the bedroom. Emma listened to the clink of her toenails on the hard wood floor until Lucas distracted her again.
The lips that settled over her mouth were gentle, whisper soft, full of promise. Her arms tightened around his neck, drawing him closer. She went up on her tiptoes and opened her mouth, welcoming him inside.
His tongue was as tender as his lips when it slipped into her mouth. Caressing rather than claiming, soothing rather than marauding—it stroked her delicately, as though she were the finest of china, breakable. Irreplaceable.
As though she were precious.
Her heart melted beneath his ministrations and she pressed herself closer, wanting to gift him the same pleasure he was giving her. He tightened his hold, sealing her against his chest, and then dropped his hands to her butt. Lifting her slightly, he stepped forward and eased her down on the bed.
A sharp twinge went through her left knee, which she was able to ignore. But when he followed her down to the mattress, his tongue still stroking the inside of her mouth, the muscles of her lower back spasmed.
He captured her hiss of pain with his mouth and lifted his head, scanning her face. Whatever he saw sent him rolling off her and onto his feet.
“Lucas,” she straightened carefully, until she was sitting on the mattress and reached out to him. “It’s okay. I want this.”
The shake of his head seemed aimed at himself, rather than her, as though he were clearing the passion from his mind. “So do I—obviously.” He adjusted the fit of his jeans over his crotch and smiled crookedly at her. “But there’s no hurry.” He shook his head again, his smile shifting to a scowl. “I haven’t taken very good care of you today. Hold on.” Turning, he disappeared through the door.
She heard the faucet turn on and then off in the bathroom next door. Seconds later, he returned with a glass of water and two pain pills. A thick knot clotted in her throat. She silently took the pills, tossed them back and forced a mouthful of water down.
Was he leaving?
“Tell you what,” he said, as he took the glass back. “Let’s order some takeout and then I’ll give you a back massage. That should help with the tight muscles.”
“You’re staying? Even though, you know…we’re not doing it?” she asked, struggling to her feet, her throat tighter than ever—but with wonder this time, rather than disappointment.
He laughed, his gaze both hungry and amused. “Doing it? You mean making love?” And then his smile turned wicked. “Sweetheart, trust me. We’re gonna be doing it like a couple of horny rabbits, as soon as you can move without wincing. In fact, I suspect, we’ll be doing it, for a very long time.”
* * *
With a languid stretch, Emma scooted closer to the furnace roasting her backside. Lord, sleeping with Lucas was like sleeping with an electric blanket. She’d forgotten how much heat he generated.
Pure contentment softened her muscles and mind. The previous evening had been enchanted. They’d shared Chinese food by candlelight. He’d given her a sensuous, muscle melting massage, that actually had unknotted all her tight muscles. And then he’d herded her to bed. But rather than leaving, he’d stripped to his skivvies and climbed under the sheets and blankets with her. And then he’d cuddled her all night.
Cuddled her. Without sex. Without any expectation of love making. He’d simply held her…all night.
If she hadn’t already been in love with him before, that sure would have done it.
She stretched again, holding her breath, waiting for her knees or the muscles of her
back to protest. But nothing disturbed the bliss. The stiffness, aches and pains were gone. Maybe Lucas’s hands held magic. Or maybe the magic was in the heat his big body shed. She tested the waters again by arching her back and flexing her knees.
Nothing.
Which was good enough for her. Holding her breath, she rolled in the hard arms encircling her waist.
His face was relaxed. Eyes closed. He looked more youthful in sleep, less controlled. The constant vigilance and thin veneer of suspicion he wore when awake added years and weight to his face.
Tenderness rose hard and fast, bringing a film of tears. He was a good man, this warrior in her bed, and he was all hers. With trembling fingers, she traced a path down his cheek, along his throat, and down to his chest. At that point, the tenderness gave way to something more sensual. Something hungry. Ravenously hungry. She needed to taste him.
Her mouth found his strong throat and latched on, suckling. Good God, he tasted good. Indescribably delicious. Trailing wet kisses from his throat to his chest, she feasted on him.
He twitched beneath her, his neck arching. A groan broke from his tense throat. His reaction fueled her hunger. She pushed the sheet from his huge body and conquered the muscles of his abdomen with her lips. With each lick, suckle, or stinging kiss, his body twitched.
Liquid heat flashed through her, pooled between her legs. Her breasts swelled, and her nipples tightened, the taut nubs becoming so sensitive the friction of her silk night shirt brought an equal measure of pleasure and pain.
Someone moaned. It could have been her. It could have been him.
Her mouth moved lower, lingering to nuzzle the rigid flesh of his belly in front of his briefs. This time he jolted—hard—his breath catching and then escaping in a hiss.
Now that reaction deserves a reward.
She nipped him, then soothed the spot with a wet swipe of her tongue. He jolted again, thrashed beneath her. A wicked smile curving her lips, she glided a hand beneath his underwear and wrapped her fingers around his penis.
Thank God she’d removed the bandages from her hands the night before. The satin smooth glide of his penis beneath her palm would have been totally wasted with the cotton wrap separating the caress of their skin.
Pushing his underwear down his thick thighs and out of her way, she continued her wet, nipping journey of discovery. Vaguely, she felt his legs move as he kicked his briefs off completely.
“Em.” His voice was guttural, raw. Hands clasped her shoulders, but didn’t pull her away. “You don’t have to do this. I’m good with—”
“Oh, but I do,” she assured him, her voice so thick she barely understood the words.
And then her mouth closed over the bulbous head of his penis. He tasted salty, and sweet, and altogether delightful. But she only managed two pumps from base to tip before she broke him.
A rumbling groan ripped from him and the hands gripping her shoulders shifted to her waist. He hauled her up until she straddled his abdomen, and jerked her shirt over her head. Cupping her breasts, he rubbed her pointed nipples with his thumbs.
“I’ve been dreaming about this for months,” he said, his voice more guttural than ever. “How your nipples get so hard for me.” As though to emphasize his point, he swiped the pebbled nubs again. “How wet and wild you get for me.” He slid one hand down to her pelvis and beneath her silk panties.
She widened her legs for him, gasping and arching as he found the hot, aching valley between her legs. He slipped a finger inside her, pulled it out, and then thrust it back in. A second finger joined the first. And then he went still.
Moaning in protest, she raised her gaze to his.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” His eyes were almost black with hunger and penetrated all the way to her soul.
Her ability to speak gone, she showed him how ready she was by pressing her hips down and forcing his fingers deeper. Luckily, he got the message. Two more slow, sensual pumps and he withdrew. A quick tug and her panties were out of the way.
Lifting her, he eased her over his penis and guided it inside. She arched as he filled her, bore down as he thrust up.
God…he felt so good. Thick, and hot. Perfect.
They moved together, in harmony. Rough, ragged breathing synchronized.
And that raw, sensual tension drew tighter and tighter, constricting into a thick, molten knot. Faster and faster. Harder. Deeper. Until he was pounding into her, his face rigid, cheeks stained with red.
And then she burst. Exploded into a trillion, glowing pieces. Convulsing, she collapsed on top of him, his shout following her into the darkness.
Epilogue
One Week later
Emma handed Lucas a bottle of Coors, scooted Cuddles out of his lap, and took the dog’s place. The porch swing rocked as she sat down. Cuddles protested her displacement with an affronted glare, her topknot askew, which told Emma that Lucas’s fingers had been working their magic again.
She took a sip from her wine glass, smiling as strong arms closed around her waist and drew her back against a hard chest. The man cradling her was such a dichotomy. Vigilant, suspicious and hard—to the world, anyway. But gentle and loving with her. Cuddles too.
Cuddles, apparently giving up on the possibility of retrieving her spot in Lucas’s lap, climbed into Emma’s instead.
“What changed your mind?” Emma asked absently, taking a deep, appreciative breath of honeysuckle.
“About what?”
Lucas’s voice was a sleepy growl in her ear.
“About this—” she wiggled her butt against his lap and felt his instinctive response. “About us, about staying. You were backing away. I could tell.”
He was silent for a moment before stirring against her. “Yeah, that.”
“You were, weren’t you? You were going to walk away again?” Emma asked quietly, already wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject.
She’d been avoiding the discussion for days now, uncertain she wanted to know the answer. Afraid it would remind him of decisions she didn’t want him remembering.
“I thought I could walk away,” he finally said quietly, his arms tightening around her waist. “But I was wrong. All it took was ten minutes of hell, of not knowing if you were alive or dead, to show me how wrong.” He paused to kiss the top of her head. “And I realized you were right. That this thing between us, it was worth hanging onto—no matter the worry, no matter the cost.”
She relaxed with a smile, relief rushing through her.
“This thing?” She teased, and hummed a few bars of A Crazy Little Thing Called Love.
He laughed, his mouth moving to the side of her neck for a slow, sensual nuzzle. He hadn’t said the words yet, but he showed her the emotion behind them every day—in the way he touched her, and took care of her, even in the way he looked at her.
“Have you found out when you deploy?” She forced the cold shadow of apprehension from her voice. She’d deal with that particular demon later, when he was gone.
“Orders haven’t come down yet, but it’ll be soon.” He fell silent and then moved restlessly against her. “It will be my last rotation. I turned in my papers.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but from the tension suddenly gripping him, it must be something important. “Your papers?”
“Yeah, a resignation request.” His deep breath pressed his chest against her spine. “It won’t take effect until next year. But this will be my last deployment.”
Shock held her still. He’d resigned from the Navy?
“You didn’t have to do that.” She fought her tight throat and chest to get the words out. “I don’t want you to do this because of me. Can you pull your resignation?”
He nuzzled her ear, his arms so tight around her abdomen she could barely breathe. Or maybe the lack of breath was due to the clot of emotion in her chest.
“Probably. But I won’t. You’re far, far more important to me than my commission.”
And if that wasn’t a declaration of love, she didn’t know what was. He’d just shown her, in the clearest way imaginable, that she came first. Before the Navy, before his career, even before his teammates.
She swallowed hard, the magnitude of his sacrifice soaking in. It was the most selfless thing anyone had ever done for her. Tears stung her eyes. She swung her legs off the swing—ignoring Cuddles’s grumpy protest—and shifted in his lap until she faced him.
“I love you,” she said, knowing the words were unequal to the gift he’d given her.
He smiled slightly, as though to say he already knew, and drew her back against his chest until her head rested on his shoulder. With a deep, contented sigh, Cuddles stretched out across their legs.
Together they sat there, softly swaying, surrounded by the sweet scent of honeysuckle, as night enveloped them.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Bound by Temptation, the second novella in my Bound by series.
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