Trembling, she stood and walked to the door, but paused to look over her shoulder. "Would you help me put them on the bed?" She shushed the voice of reason vetoing the invitation.
"I'm here to do your bidding." He followed her down the short hall to her bedroom.
"All that arrogance at my command?" Daylight had given way to dusk, leaving the room shadowed. She turned the bedside lamp on low. Light spilled onto the comforter and pooled on the wood floor.
"I believe you've misinterpreted my gentle, humble nature."
She walked around to the other side of the bed, laughing. "And I believe you left that behind with diapers."
"Let me prove myself. I'm under your control."
There was a heady thought. How did he manage to be devastatingly sexy and fun at the same time? "Okay. Go ahead and strip…" she paused wickedly "…the sheets off the bed."
His teeth gleamed white against the shadow of a beard darkening his jaw. "My pleasure. I'll be very good. Why don't you sit and watch?"
Olivia sank into the wingback chair in the corner of her room. "Whenever you're ready."
Luke draped the comforter over the footboard and started on her sheets. Who in her right mind would ever find anything sexy in watching a man take sheets off a bed? Which just went to prove she wasn't in her right mind.
Grasping the top hem in one hand, he wrapped the pale cotton around his dark, hair-sprinkled wrist. Legs spread, his powerful thighs braced, he tugged and coaxed until it fluttered to him. He gazed across the bed at Olivia as he deliberately brought the sheet to his face and inhaled. "It smells like you."
"Oh." She wasn't capable of saying anything more.
"I would recognize your scent anywhere, Liv. I love the fragrance of you." He rubbed the fabric against his cheek, then released it to pool at his feet.
She moistened her lips and stroked the velvet chair arm, grateful for its support.
Olivia stared, fascinated, as Luke slid one finger beneath the elastic and eased it over the edge. The muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled as he leaned across the bed and rimmed the sheet free with one finger.
Watching Luke strip her bed brought to mind his deliberate, clever hands tugging off her skirt, his fingers slipping beneath the edge of her satin panties.
He tossed the last sheet to the floor. Her movements as calculated as his, Olivia pulled the pins from her hair, freeing it to tumble about her shoulders.
Luke's eyes darkened in appreciation. "I've wanted to do that all day."
"It gets in the way if I leave it down at work. And it doesn't look very professional."
"Hmm." His gaze devoured her across the bed. "No, it doesn't look professional at all. It's very soft. Very sensual. Definitely too sexy for work." He gestured to the sheetless mattress. "Now that I've stripped for you, don't tell me I have to do the next part by myself as well. It's so much more fun together."
She rose and crossed to the bed. "I wouldn't dream of asking you to make it alone."
"We should start with the bottom." Luke tossed the sheet onto the middle of the bed.
Olivia fondled the sheet, smoothing the silk with the palm of her hand. She cupped her hand over the rigid, rounded corner, coaxing the fabric into place. Luke mimicked her sensual movements. Only one of Luke's corners remained.
"I may have to stretch it a bit, but it should fit."
Olivia wet her lips as he drew the fabric over the edge. His hand caressed the smooth surface. "Nice and tight. It's a little more work, but worth it in the end. I prefer a tight fit, don't you?"
"Absolutely." Her muscles clenched in agreement.
"Feel it now, Olivia. Soft and smooth. Supple, yet tight. Go ahead. I want to watch your face while you touch it."
Closing her eyes intensified the sensation as she fingered the fine fabric—nowhere near as fine as the texture of Luke's skin, but still exquisite. The sueded silk was just as he'd described. Her lips parted and she sighed her pleasure. Luke's harsh breathing whispered across the expanse of apricot silk.
She opened her eyes and rubbed her hand across the bed one last time, nearly touching his thigh. "I love the way it feels." And, for the moment, she loved the way he made her feel—like some wild, hedonistic creature.
"I knew you would. You're a very sensual woman, Olivia." He embraced her with his voice and his eyes.
She pulled out the other sheet, savoring the rich weave against her fingertips. "Now for the one on top."
"It spreads so much easier on top. Just lift and tuck it in." The memory of him on top, before Adam's phone call, hung between them as they inserted the bottom and smoothed the fabric up the bed with long, lingering strokes.
"Last, but not least, the pillows." Luke picked one up and kneaded it in his big, broad hands. "You have very nice pillows, Lady Olivia. Plump and full, yet soft." Her breath came in ragged pants. Her against the door. Him inside her. His hands clutching her buttocks, kneading them in much the same way. "You've got a very nice pair of pillows. Just the kind I like."
He slid the case on and reached for the other pillow. Once again, he massaged the fullness as he slid the case on. He propped them against the headboard and smoothed the comforter into place.
"I think you're ready."
She was beyond ready. Olivia was so hot, she wouldn't have been surprised if the sheets burst into flames from the heat coming off her body. "I appreciate all your help." She placed her palms flat on the bed and leaned forward, deliberately displaying her breasts to him. "How can I thank you for such a thoughtful present?"
Luke braced one knee against the edge of the mattress and leaned across to meet her in the middle. He buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth to his. "Think of me when you're in bed naked tonight." His lips were hard and hot as his tongue plunged into her mouth. She met it eagerly with her own. Abruptly he released her. "'Cause I'll sure as hell be thinking about you."
By the time Olivia recovered her senses, Luke had closed the front door behind him on his way out.
* * *
11
« ^ »
Surely at some point in his thirty-two years, Luke had faced something more difficult than walking away from Olivia. However, nothing immediately came to mind. It was nearly impossible to think past the sweet taste of her mouth and his hard-on. It had required every ounce of self-control and self-discipline to remember his vow to court her and not jump her bones. Especially when her bones seemed more than willing to be jumped. This wooing business was damn hard on a man. But he was determined to prove his worth to Olivia and he'd forego one night for a future together.
He rolled down the pickup window as he left the lights of town behind him. Bracing cold air rushed into the cab, the next best thing to a cold shower. He pulled out a small cigar from the pack on his seat and lit it.
He slowed his truck, but at the last moment bypassed the road leading home. The yawning emptiness and solitude of his house didn't appeal to him. He was so keyed up, he'd only pace the floor. Cecil's? Nah. He wasn't up to shooting the bull with the boys over darts and drafts.
Acres of rolling farmland flanked the ribbon of blacktop. The lights of an occasional house and his truck punctuated the otherwise dark canvas of land and highway. Three-quarters of a mile ahead the road intersected the newly opened highway extension. His lights picked out a rusted mailbox, the hinged front missing. Luke braked and turned onto the Cooper property. Even from here, he could see the television's glow through the window. Bennett was up. No time like the present to let his old friend in on what was going on. He just hoped Bennett was sober enough to understand.
* * *
Olivia read the same page for the fourth time, still clueless as to what it said. She relegated the book to her nightstand and turned off the lamp. There had never been a time when she couldn't lose herself between the pages of a good book. Until tonight.
She shifted, the caress of the sheets against her bare skin feeding her restlessness. She checked the bedside
clock. Again. Almost eleven. Late. At this rate, she'd never sleep.
Luke's presence lingered in her room, in her bed. Each brush of the sheet against her body became his deft hand. She tasted him against her tongue. She smelled him against the plump, down-filled pillows beneath her head. Her bedside phone beckoned.
She rolled over and faced the other direction. It was late. Too late for a phone call. But she really should thank him again. And perhaps if she called he'd offer an explanation as to why he left so abruptly.
Actions that would never withstand rationale in the light of day often found credence in the hours between late night and early morning. Olivia twisted and reached for the phone, then hesitated. She should throw on a nightgown or at least a T-shirt and panties, shouldn't she? She'd never made a phone call in the buff. It seemed indecent. Wickedly naughty. She licked suddenly dry lips, her heart racing. It was a phone—not a video camera. He'd never know.
She drew a deep breath, turned on the light, picked up the phone, and called information. A computerized voice relayed his number. She piled her pillows against the headboard, tucked the sheet around her, and dialed.
Ring. Just a quick thank-you.
Ring. Give him a chance to explain.
Ring. She should hang up…
"Hello?" he answered, his voice low, a little lazy, as if she'd stirred him from the verge of sleep. She could still hang up and he'd be none the wiser. "Hello?"
She clutched the phone, closed her eyes and took the plunge. "Luke. It's Olivia." Too late now. "Is this a bad time? I, uh, know it's late. Were you still awake? I can let you go." She sounded like an idiot. She should've written down what she wanted to say instead of babbling.
"Yes. No. I mean it's fine." He sounded rattled as well, not his usual cocky self. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine. I just wanted to say thanks again for the sheets. They're lovely."
"You're a lovely woman, Liv. You deserve nice things."
Since she'd known him, he'd been provocative, seductive in the things he'd said to her. But that was the sweetest, most tender thing anyone had ever said to her. No one had ever called her lovely and no one had ever offered the opinion that she might merit more than the basic creature comforts. Tears gathered behind her eyelids, one sliding down her cheek, as emotion clogged her throat. "Oh, Luke…"
"Baby, are you crying?" Luke's tenderness touched her.
"No." A sniffle betrayed her shaky denial.
"Oh, sugar, I never meant to make you cry." He crooned low in her ear.
While she was making all kinds of a late-night fool of herself, she might as well dredge up the question that had haunted her for years. "Luke, do you remember kissing me behind the bleachers at a high school football game?" All the air whooshed out of her lungs.
"Like it was yesterday." No teasing note contradicted his sincerity.
"Why did you kiss me?" She clutched a handful of sheet. She'd waited thirteen years to ask the question.
He didn't hesitate. "Because I wanted to."
She needed more of an answer than that. She screwed up her courage and forged ahead. "But why did you want to? Was it a bet? Because you thought I'd be easy?"
"Give both of us a little credit." She imagined him shaking his head. "You were the last girl on the easy list and I'd have kicked anyone's butt who'd tried to make a bet on you. I'd noticed you before." He sighed into the line. "I saw you when you left. I only meant to offer you comfort. But you were so lovely, and when I touched you…"
She still recalled the tremor of awareness, the first bloom of her sexuality, when his hands cupped her shoulders.
"…it was as if…" he hesitated "…as if I'd found a part of myself in you."
She couldn't deny a connection as well. "But you never said anything to me afterwards."
"You took off as if the hounds of hell were after you."
"You terrified me." And still did, to some measure. He tapped into a part of her and took her places inside herself she wasn't sure she wanted to go. He tapped into the wildness inside her that she'd always managed to control and subdue, except for periodic outbursts.
"That was pretty clear. And you've been straightforward as to where I stand with you since then."
"Luke?"
"Liv?"
"I don't hate you." She couldn't apologize for saying it, because at the time, she'd meant it and he'd deserved it. She couldn't offer him more, because, quite frankly, she didn't know how she felt about him. He was nemesis, champion, tormentor, lover—all rolled in one.
"That's good to know." His voice held a note of wry acceptance, as if he knew that was the best she could offer. "I didn't want to leave tonight, Liv." His voice strummed through her body. "I've thought about you all night. I can't sleep for thinking about you." His low, caressing tone didn't sound as if he found her repugnant. "Have you been thinking about me?"
She snuggled into the down of the pillow. "Yes. I've been thinking about you."
"You're not in the kitchen sipping tea, are you?"
She traced a circle on the sheet with her nail and smiled. "No. I'm not in the kitchen."
"You're not curled up on the couch with a book and Fat Cat are you?"
Despite his teasing tone, she knew the road they were headed down. Her heartbeat raced, even as she laughed softly, "It's Hortense. And no, I'm not on the couch, either."
"Are you in bed?" A hoarse note replaced his banter.
She paused. "Yes." Breathless embarrassment tinged her single reply.
"Oh, baby." He sucked in a harsh breath. "Do you want to talk for a while?"
They both knew where his "talk" would take them. She knew what he was asking. Did she have the courage? Anticipation sizzled through her. "I think I'd like that."
"Why don't you tell me what you're wearing?"
"Nothing. I'm not wearing anything." He groaned on the other end. "I haven't put you to sleep, have I?" Did that hoarse voice really belong to her?
"Not yet. I think I can manage to stay awake for another few minutes." She imagined his sexy grin.
"What about you, Luke? Are you in bed? Are you naked?"
"Yes."
A wave of lust crashed over her, through her, at his one-word response. Luke naked presented a spectacular sight. "You have an unfair advantage. You've seen my bed. Describe yours."
"Lonely."
Her breath caught and her heart ached at his stark description. "Come get in bed with me. I'm lifting the sheet. Do you want to slide in between them?" The words came without thought. She lifted the edge of the bedcover. Her own bed had been lonely far too long.
"Lift a little higher so I can slip in. Ah, you feel so good, Liv."
"I'm glad you're here." She imagined the brush of his hair-roughened thigh against her hip, the width of his shoulders and the span of his chest as they blocked the light. "Are you … excited?"
"Excited's the watered-down version. Try aching." She was. "Throbbing." That too, deep inside. "What about you, Olivia? Are you excited?"
Did birds fly south in winter? "Yes."
"Do your breasts ache?"
Luke made her feel, both emotionally and physically, things she'd never felt before. Instinctively, she seemed to know what he craved from her as well. "Yes. For your touch."
"Are you throbbing between your legs?"
Her entire body felt afire. Her muscles contracted within her as if he'd stroked her with his finger instead of a question. "Yes, for you."
"I want to see your beautiful breasts. Will you show them to me? Pull the sheet down. That's it, nice and slow. Let it slide over your sensitive, aching tips."
The silk dragged against her hardened nipples. Her breath quickened to short, sharp pants. "Ohhh."
She closed her eyes and imagined him beside her.
"Are the sheets the same color as your nipples? Look at yourself. Tell me."
She glanced down, as he'd requested. Her bare breasts against the material was an arousing, er
otic sight. The tension inside her wound tighter. "They're a shade lighter, but very, very close."
"I want you to touch your breasts now. Taste them." Her nipples tightened to turgid points. "You'll have to do that for me."
She filled her hands with her breasts, the phone on her shoulder. "They feel heavy." Her eyes fluttered shut and it was Luke's hands that cupped her.
"Yes. Luscious Ripe," he murmured. "Put your fingers in your mouth and wet them." She held the phone close to her mouth as she laved and suckled her fingertips, trusting the line to carry the faint sounds.
Luke groaned on the other end. "Now roll your nipples between your thumb and forefinger." His command was harsh. Arousing.
She followed his instructions and bucked into the air and back against the mattress as sensation arrowed through her. "Ohhh."
"That's it, baby. Tug. Harder." The rough edge of his voice urged her on.
Fever gripped her. Sensation rampaged her. She released the pebbled tip. She knew he was aroused. She longed to touch him. "I want to hold you in my hand. Stroke you. Will you do it for me?"
Strain hoarsened his voice. "I don't think that's a very good idea, honey. I'd like to stay with you until the end."
He deserved a little teasing for leaving her high and far from dry earlier. "But you are still hard?"
He choked on the other end. "Yes. I'm still at full attention." He paused. "Liv, I love the feel of your skin, the way you smell. Rub your hand over your belly for me."
She slid her hand over her stomach, her belly quivering, muscles clenching at her touch. She saw herself, her body and her sensuality, through his eyes. She moaned into the phone.
"Baby, you're better than any fantasy I ever had. Rub your hands over your thighs. I love your thighs. Soft. Round. Smooth."
Olivia skimmed her hands over her thighs, her skin ultrasensitive to the slightest touch. His pleasure and her pleasure tangled into one despite the distance separating them.
Luke's voice rasped low in her ear, "Your hands are on your thighs, aren't they?"
"Yes." Muscles contracted against her fingertips.
"Bend your knees now and spread your legs for me." His harsh breathing echoed in her ear and with her eyes closed, he was there beside her.
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