After a minute, Luke grabbed the body wash, and lathered up using his hand and elbow. “Turn around. Let me wash you clean.”
Selena shut her eyes as that incredible hand moved over her body. He washed her back, then knelt down behind her and washed her legs. He stood up and turned her to face him, moving her left side away from the water, then he washed her right side and her stomach, scrubbing away his ferocious claiming of her.
She still felt it, though; felt that Luke’s possession was burned deep in to her skin. Like an invisible scar, one that only she saw and sensed, she was marked for good. Marked as his.
And unlike her other scars and marks, she didn’t mind this one at all.
When his fingers moved between her legs and stroked her clit, she clutched his shoulders, leaned back against the tile for support. He saw her incredible response and his own desire roared back to life.
He knelt down again, his eyes level with her lower lips. He stared at her pussy, remembering how she’d tasted, how she’d felt as she came on his fingers and mouth. He glanced up at her.
“Babe, I can’t wait to go down on you again.” He pressed a kiss to her mound, his tongue darting out to give her a teasing lick as he pulled back. “You’re so damn hot, you know that?”
“Uh,” she gasped as his fingers slid inside. “Please, Luke…”
“Please?” he said, his thumb massaging her taut bundle of nerves even as his fingers moved in and out of her. “Please what?”
“Please…” She threw her head back, tried to keep standing. God, the man was going to kill her. “Please go down on me again.”
“Here?” he murmured. “Right here in the shower?”
“Yes.” It came out as a whimper. “Here.”
“I thought we were supposed to be getting clean,” he said. “And here you are, wanting to be dirty. Again.”
“Luke.” She was writhing now, shameless and begging. “Please.”
Without another word, he gently parted her lower lips with his fingers, touched the tip of his tongue to her sweetness. She was swollen and he was careful with her, sure that she had to be sensitive. Maybe even too sensitive to come again so soon.
He was wrong, he discovered quickly enough. She was open and pink, her folds glistening with her honeyed arousal. When he latched on to her clit again, so gently, so lovingly, she gave a broken cry and called his name. It was ripped from someplace deep and needy, it was a call for relief and he answered it. Fuck, did he ever.
Selena’s second orgasm for Luke was as intense as the first one, but it was shorter, sharper. It was like bolts of lightning or exploding stars, not pulsing waves or slow-building flames. It was so overwhelming, so all-encompassing, that she almost fell. It was only his arms around her waist that kept her vertical… but she couldn’t say for how much longer.
Sensing her unsteadiness, Luke got to his feet again and held her, his massive arms and much larger body shielding her from the spray. She just clung to him as her legs trembled beneath her, his chest and arms safe and strong.
“You good?” he whispered against her hair.
“Umm-hmmm. That was amazing.” She sighed. “And now I have to clean up again.”
“You want some time alone in here?” he asked.
“Please.”
His grin was devastating. “Don’t you start begging me again, Selena, or I’ll be back on my knees in a heartbeat.”
“Promise?”
Their eyes met and held.
“Yeah, beautiful. I promise.” He stepped away, stuck his face under the shower. “But right now, I need to rinse you off my face and hands and make you some breakfast.”
She watched as he shampooed his hair, his throat extended and his eyes closed. Seeing him like this – wet, naked, all male animal and pure wicked temptation – took her breath away.
Argh. Stoppit, Selena. You just came a minute ago. Let the man get some coffee, yeah? Attack him after he’s properly caffeinated.
Luke gave her a quick kiss, then stepped out of the shower and toweled off roughly. She stood there, enjoying the view very much until he wrapped the towel around his lower body.
“Take your time,” he said to her. “I’ll start the coffee, and do omelets sound OK to you?”
“Perfect.”
“Good. See you out there. Bring the first aid stuff and I’ll bandage you up again, and if you need help drying off and getting dressed, gimme a shout.”
“Oh. Am I getting dressed?” Selena blinked at him, all wide-eyed. “I kinda assumed that the whole apartment was now a clothing-free zone.”
“Sassy,” he muttered. “And yeah, beautiful… don’t bother getting dressed. A towel’s optional.”
Luke shut the door, wandered down the hallway. He stretched, his muscles pulling tight and taut. Goddamn, what an amazing morning… and they had nothing to do after they got back from the hospital but to repeat some variation of this morning again and again. And again.
He found the coffee and the filters, got the energy-in-a-cup going, opened the fridge. He set everything on the counter and glanced at his phone. He paused, hesitated, then turned it on again.
Right away, he saw exactly what he’d been hoping not to see: six missed calls from Natalie, four texts with attachments. He cursed under his breath, deleted the call history, deleted the texts unread and unopened. Sadly, he couldn’t help but see the first few words of the texts and they included things such as ‘fuck me hard’ and ‘i want to make u cum’.
Incredibly pissed off, his good mood evaporated. Just what the fuck was this all about? Not a peep from the woman for three years and then suddenly, she wouldn’t leave him alone? Luke cracked the eggs more savagely than necessary and swore as the yolk spattered on to the element.
He cleaned it up, trying to stay calm. No good having Selena see him all raging bull in the kitchen. Luke had no desire whatsoever to share any of this bullshit with her. It wasn’t her problem, and he’d deal with it somehow.
How, though? He pondered that as he fried the bacon and sipped his coffee. His nature demanded a scorched-earth confrontation, but this wasn’t about him. This was about Natalie, what she wanted and needed. And in the whole of his life, Luke had never met anyone with such a need for attention.
Luke considered that. Attention… well, if that’s what she craved, what if he just didn’t give it to her? No angry calls demanding that she leave him alone, no furious messages telling her to go away, no playing in to her manipulative little hands. No reaction, no fuel to add to the fire. Maybe it’d all just die off from lack of oxygen… it’d die with a whimper, not a bang, and on reflection, that’s how Luke preferred it.
His mind made up, he plated up the omelet and poured Selena a coffee. The bathroom door opened and he adjusted his expression from a scowl to a welcoming smile. It was a bit fake, but hey… she had no need to see him pissed off.
This had nothing to do with Selena, after all.
Not a goddamn thing.
Chapter Twelve
Chris Brooker stared down at the piece of furniture in front of him, amazed that it was actually done. He’d been working on it secretly for months now, before and after his shifts at King’s Garage and at weekends, and some days, it had felt like Dean and Emma’s baby was going to arrive before it was finished. But it was finished, and all he wanted was to give it to the parents-to-be.
He heard a noise behind him and quickly threw a sheet over the furniture. He turned to see Jenny Sawyer standing there in the doorway. Her blue eyes were soft and questioning: his phone call to meet him at the back entrance of King’s Garage before it opened that morning had been pretty cryptic.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Chris said. “Thanks for coming.”
Jenny stepped in. “Sure. Is everything OK?”
“Yeah. Perfect.” Chris crossed the room, dropped a kiss on her for
ehead. “I just wanted to show you what I’ve been working on.”
Her expression cleared. “It’s done? Whatever it is?”
“All done.” He grinned. “Wanna see?”
“Of course I do, Chris. You’ve barely been home these past few weeks.” Jenny smiled up at him, loving his gentle strength. “So… show me.”
“Alright. Close your eyes now.”
Right away, she did as he said, with no hesitation at all. There had been a time – not so long ago – when there’d have been no way that Jenny would stand alone in a dimly-lit room with any man with her eyes closed.
But Chris was different, and he always had been. He’d been the man to show her to trust a man, how to crave a man’s touch. He’d taught her to love and he’d helped her to take her life back, and she’d never, ever stop loving him for any of that.
“Hurry, hurry!” she said, her eyes tightly shut. “I’m dying here, Chris. What is it?”
Chris pulled the sheet off, gave the wood a quick wipe with the end of his t-shirt. “OK. You can look now.”
Jenny opened her eyes and gasped. In front of her was the most beautiful baby crib that she’d ever seen. It was painted a soft, sky-blue and it had a simple elegance; it was obviously sturdy and safe, but it looked like a warm, wonderful place for a baby to sleep. And here, in this garage back room stuffed with tools and car and motorcycle parts, it was a touchingly sweet and innocent sight.
“Oh, my God,” Jenny breathed. “Chris… did you make this? I mean, I knew that you liked doing woodwork as a hobby, but I had no idea that you were so damn good. You really made it from scratch?”
“From a few planks and with my own two hands.” He smiled, but his gray eyes were a bit troubled. “You think Emma and Dean will like it?”
“Are you kidding me?” she said, walking closer to get a better look. “They’re going to love it. God, I want to have a baby just so you can make another crib for our kid.”
“No problem.” His gruff voice was soft. “Whenever you’re ready, you say the word. I’d love to see you pregnant, love to be a daddy with you.”
Flustered, she glanced at him. “Really? You want to have children soon?”
“Sooner rather than later.” His handsome face was intense. “I’m ready now, baby, so it all comes down to you.”
“It does?”
“Yeah, but no pressure, Jenny. I swear. I just want you to know that you don’t need to worry about what I want or how I feel on this topic. I’m totally clear where babies with you are concerned. I want ‘em. Lots of ‘em.”
“How many?”
He tilted his head and grinned at her. “Five?”
“Five?” She feigned horror. “That’s all?”
“OK, OK. Nine.”
“You like odd numbers, I see.”
“Well, I am odd.”
“You sure are,” she teased him. “But maybe we can settle on three? An odd number for you, not quite as many years of being barefoot and pregnant in the restaurant kitchen for me?”
Chris considered that, looked forlorn as he ran his hands through his short blond hair. “OK. I’ll agree to that, on one condition.”
“What is it?”
“You name the boys and I name the girls.”
“Hmmmm.” She narrowed her eyes at him, sure that there was a surprise waiting to leap out at her in that request. “Ohhh-kay.”
“OK!” he said brightly. “All settled! Shall we go home and practice our baby-making skills? Just so we’re up for the job when you decide it’s time to get to work?”
“Can I talk to you about something first?”
Right away, Chris dropped the joking tone: when Jenny asked to talk to him in this small voice, it always meant that something big was on her mind. He took her in his arms, wrapped her up tight.
“Yeah, baby.” He stroked her silky blonde hair. “Go ahead.”
“It’s nothing bad,” she said. “It’s just – it means time away from you.”
“What?” He stared down at her in horror. “Time away? Where are you going?”
“Not far.” She smiled. “Just to Colorado Springs.”
“Why? For how long? Can I go with you?”
Jenny laughed now. Chris’ panic and worry was almost endearing, but she felt badly that she was making him panic and worry at all, and she rushed to reassure him.
“It’s nothing bad, babe,” she said. “Actually, it’s something really good. I want to open a new restaurant there within two years.”
Chris gazed down at her, dumbfounded. “Really? That’s great.”
“Yeah.”
“Another high-end place, like Jenny’s?”
“No, I want to do something totally different. I want to open a traditional Polish place.”
Chris smiled as he remembered that Jenny had learned everything that she knew at the family Polish restaurant. She’d been raised in that environment, and her love of certain flavors even now was a nod to her Dad’s Polish cooking and her Mom’s Polish background. But her food at Jenny’s Restaurant was more fusion than anything else, and he was a bit surprised that she wanted to go strictly one-cuisine. He asked about that.
“Well,” she said slowly. “It’s not so much the cuisine as the atmosphere. I really want to capture the warmth and family vibe of traditional Polish places. Long wooden tables and huge dishes of food piled high that everyone shares. Bread and pickles and sweet tea… and homemade desserts, lots of them.” She paused. “I’m feeling inspired by Emma and Dean, Cordelia and Sully, Olivia and Dallas, you see. I’m thinking about family, Chris, and I want to create a place where families can go and be noisy and eat a lot and be together.”
He was silent.
“Chris?” She peered up at him. “What do you think?”
“I think it sounds incredible. And if you need to go back and forth for a while, stay there sometimes, I’m more than good with it.” He kissed her. “Anything you need, you ask me.”
“Well, as it turns out, I do need to ask you for help with something.”
“Name it.”
She gestured at the baby crib. “I need someone to make the restaurant furniture.”
“What?”
“I need solid furniture in a honey-gold wood,” she said. “Sturdy chairs, heavy benches, long, wide tables, all in a certain rustic style.” She paused. “Would you – would you like to work with me on this?”
“Oh, my God,” Chris said softly. “I’d love to, but are you sure? Really, really sure?”
“Based on this crib? Yeah.”
“So, yes.” He ran his large hands over her lush, ripe curves. “Yes, baby.”
The smile that she gave him almost took the damn knees out from under him. She was the strongest, most fragile woman he’d ever known and sometimes he still couldn’t believe that she’d made it through all that shit in one piece.
But she had, and here she was: a living, breathing testament to faith and belief. And – the most incredible part of it all – he’d been permitted to touch her, kiss her, make love to her. To be with her.
“Good,” she said. “Now… shall we go home? Practice our baby-making skills a bit?”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes went smoky with lust and her whole body heated up in response. “But I have to tell you, Jenny, I’m a really slow learner and I feel like I need some more practice before we launch ourselves in to the real event.”
“How much more?” she said solemnly.
“Lots.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“You sure?”
“Oh, yes.” She got up on her tip-toes and kissed him, her mouth hot and eager. “Totally sure, babe.”
**
Later that morning, Selena clutched Luke’s hand tightly as they stepped off the hospital elevator. She felt incredibly
nervous about this visit, and she was working overtime to hide it.
Luke glanced down at her, took in her serious expression. He paused and she looked up at him, a bit surprised.
“You good, babe?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You look worried.”
She sighed. Clearly, she’d been doing a pretty damn lousy job of hiding how she was feeling. Then again, she got the sense that Luke could almost read her thoughts sometimes.
“Well… I am, I guess.” She looked down the hallway. “I mean, Dallas knows about my surgery now, and I’m worried that he’s angry at me. And I’m really worried that Griff’s angry at me, too.”
“OK, whoa. Hold up.” He shook his head. “Dallas isn’t angry, Selena, and I know that for a fact. As for Griff, he was there and he knows what happened. He’s worried about you, beautiful, not pissed at you. He’s been begging Dallas to get you here so he can clap eyes on you himself, make sure you’re in one piece. Believe me, the last thing that man’s gonna do is work you over.”
She relaxed marginally. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Trust me. Now let’s go.”
She nodded and followed him down the hall to Griff’s room. The door was closed, so Luke knocked.
“Come in!” she heard Dallas call.
She opened the door, poked her dark head in. “Hi.”
“Selena!” Dallas jumped to his feet, threw himself across the room, gave her a careful hug. “You OK? You in pain? You getting enough rest? How are the stitches? You got enough painkillers?”
“Oh, my God, Dallas.” Griff spoke from the bed. “Shut it, man, and let the woman come over here. She’s here to weep over me, after all.”
Selena laughed now, partly because Dallas’ panicked babbling was totally out of character for this cool, emotionless ex-sniper, and partly because Griff’s sarcasm button had clearly not been even the slightest bit damaged. She walked over to the bed.
“No weeping, Griff,” she said. “Unless I take in to account that hospital robe. Snot-green is not your color, man.”
Solid Steel (Unseen Enemy Book 6) Page 13