She blinked. "I didn't think it was that important."
She shouldn't have, she knew she shouldn't have, but she moved closer to him. She couldn't help herself. It was like he was steel and she had swallowed a bag full of magnets.
"You should have told me. If I had known, I would have made it better for you."
She opened her mouth, trying to find a way to tell him that it would have been impossible to make that night any better than it was, but there simply weren't words to describe it.
And this time, when he reached for her shirt hem and tugged her closer, she let him.
The buzz of alcohol was fading away, and now, as he stared up into Tawny's face, he was left with nothing but the familiar need to feel her, to take her the way he had that night--no, better than the way he had that night at the lake. To show her how sex ought to be.
Still gripping the edge of her offending shirt, he tugged it up and her fingers closed over his.
"You're drunk," she whispered, and he shook his head.
"No," he said, “not so drunk that I don’t know exactly what I’m doing. Seeing you in the jersey makes me want to break something. At least change into my shirt and then if you still want to say no, I won’t try to touch you.”
He motioned to a jersey laying on the floor nearby and she rolled her eyes.
"Fine," she said, then moved across the room, pulled her own jersey over her head and reached for the one he'd pointed out.
As she bent, he studied the curve of her perfect ass and his cock throbbed with another rush of need. Her red bra stretched across her naked, lean back and he noticed a little freckle just near the right strap. It was almost shaped like a star.
Getting up from the bed, he moved toward her and gripped her hips, guiding her back slowly against him, giving her all the time in the world to pull away.
“I can’t stop thinking about how good you felt, Tawny,” he murmured.
The shirt hung loosely in her hands and she made no effort to put it on. Instead, she stood there, probably feeling the hardness of his length against her spine as his arms circled her waist.
"Was it so bad last time that you won't give me another try?" he breathed against her hair and she shook her head, letting him inhale the fresh, clean smell of her shampoo.
“L-last time doesn't matter. It should never have happened to begin with."
"Then you regret it?" he asked, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed by a vise.
"No," she murmured, "I don't regret it."
"Because of the baby?" he asked.
“No. Not just that.” She shook her head again.
"Then what?"
She turned to face him and he had to keep himself from staring at the way her breasts were practically spilling out from her bra. They were more full than he remembered and it took everything he had not to reach out and let them fill his itching palms.
"Do you really need me to say it?" she asked, and he stared back at her, silent.
Pinching her nose between thumb and forefinger, she let out a deep breath.
“You know what? You're drunk. You're not even going to remember this tomorrow."
He gripped the smooth flesh of her upper arm gently. "I'm going to remember every second of this. Now tell me--why don't you want to sleep with me tonight?"
"I do," she practically cried. "Being with you, that was the best night of my life. The way you felt..." She shrugged. "But things are different now."
"Why should they be?" he asked and her gaze searched his for a long moment.
"You can't be serious." Her hand moved to her stomach as she blinked up at him incredulously.
"We're having a baby. That’s even more of a reason to do it. Don’t we deserve to give it a try?" he countered. "Tawny, what happened that night, it was good for me, too. I couldn’t get it or you out of my head. But let me make it better. Let me touch you again…” He took another step toward her until the heat of his waiting length was flush with the skin of her bare stomach.
And again, she didn’t pull away.
He pulled his shirt over his head, then let it drop to the floor. "I want to be with you. Be with me tonight."
She swallowed hard, still internally at war with herself, but the second she gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod, he wanted to crow in triumph. In one quick movement, he circled his arm around her and dragged her closer, crushing his mouth to hers with a groan.
Chapter 12
His kiss burned through her like she'd been struck by lightning--just as hot and hungry as it had been the very first time they'd touched. Silently, she wound her arms around his neck and willed him to reach for her pants, to pull them down. Instead, he pulled her closer still, deepening their kiss and sweeping his tongue out to meet hers with deep, impassioned strokes.
She followed his lead, pushing and pulling as he led the way, falling into step with the dance of their bodies as he led her back toward the waiting mattress.
Instinctively, she knew he wouldn't make a move until she asked him to, and for a moment she savored the heat of his lips on her skin, the way he licked and sucked along her neck, traveling to the shell of her ear. Still, with him so close she couldn't help but want more--want everything, and when he pulled away, at last, she hoped he might take the lead and show her everything she needed to know.
"I want to taste you," he rasped against her ear and she nodded, giving her silent consent as he dragged her pants past her knees, then gripped her panties and laid her bare to him.
For a split second, the urge to cover herself rushed through her. Surely, she looked different than he would remember by the lake in the moonlight. Softer, rounder.
But he groaned and laid a hand on her stomach, muttering, “You’re so beautiful,” a second before he dropped his head to press kisses to the insides of her thighs. As he shucked off the rest of his clothes, she let her head and hands fall back as another rush of need quaked through her core. Holding her breath, she waited, wondering what it might feel like to know how a man—how Luke—could pleasure her there with his mouth and tongue.
His kisses trailed lower and then his rough tongue nudged at her wet slit, tracing a line from the bottom all the way up to the tight, aching bud at the top. When he reached it, he stopped, then pulled back and stared up into her eyes.
"You have a beautiful pussy, you know that? Ever since I first touched it, it’s consumed me. Wanting to see how pretty and pink it was. Wanting to touch you again.”
Her breath caught, and then she had to remind herself to breathe as his face dipped back between her legs, the roughness of his tongue tracing tantalizing circles around her clit until she writhed beneath his touch. Pleasure shot through her, making the space between her thighs ache even as a delicious pressure built in her belly.
She gripped his hair, her other hand fisted in the sheets, and rolled her hips into his touch, needing to feel him harder, deeper. With every flick of his tongue, her walls quaked and she longed to feel him inside her again, to feel his hot come spurt into her as he took her with needy, hungry thrusts.
"I want you," she murmured, but he shook his head.
"You'll have to wait. I'm having too much fun."
It was a study in torment--in pleasure and in pain, and she whimpered a little as he lowered himself back between her thighs and gave her a long, sweet lap of his tongue.
"I need to feel you," she begged and he shook his head again. "Please," she cried.
And this time he looked up at her, his eyes searching. "Is that really what you want?" he asked and she gave him a shaky nod.
"All right, beautiful. Your wish is my command."
Gripping himself, he poised his body over her and then, slowly, pushed inside her inch by agonizing inch.
It had been months since the last time they'd been together, and with every thrust of pleasure came a tiny rush of pain, but she didn't care. It came and went in a fleeting instant. She just needed to have him there, filling her up and p
ushing deep inside of her. She quaked, her nails dragging down his back as he let out a little groan of satisfaction.
"Fuck, Tawny,” he growled as he nipped her earlobe. “You’re full of surprises."
She stared up at him and he thrust inside her again, this time faster than the last. She raised her hips, ready to follow his command yet again as their bodies pushed and pulled, silently falling into rhythm with one another. Gripping his hips, she pushed him deeper and deeper until her eyes crossed with every stroke of his stiff cock. The sweet pressure inside her was once again building, and as he pushed into her, he dropped his hand between her legs to tease her clit again.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
The pressure was growing to breaking point now, and she closed her eyes, wanting to focus on the tightness of her walls as he pushed into her over and over again. The weight of his body as he pressed into her, working her body with every little move he made. The way his deft fingers knew exactly how to tease and pleasure her as he went.
Though she hadn't been able to imagine it before, there was no doubting it was better than the last time they'd been together, but it had nothing to do with what they were doing. If anything, it was because she knew him now or, at least, she knew the things that counted. He was a good person. One who cared about other people, and, in spite of what the gossips said, he took family and responsibility seriously. He wasn't some sexy stranger who she’d shared a stolen moment in the lake with anymore.
This was Luke.
Luke who'd asked her what she wanted. Luke who wanted to show her exactly how good sex could be. Luke who wanted her, even now that her news had probably derailed his entire life.
And so, when the pressure inside her had finally started to loosen and expand throughout her body, pushing her off the precipice into her orgasm, she chanted his name over and over again.
“Luke, Luke, Luke!”
She arched her back, taking him deep as she came, her channel clasping around his swollen shaft. Her whole body shook and twitched as waves of pleasure crashed over her.
Above her, he groaned and then tensed, his hips bucking against her as he exploded inside of her in a hot rush. He rocked forward, grinding his pelvis against hers, riding out every last drop of their pleasure before finally pitching forward, pressing his full weight against her with a growl of pure, male satisfaction.
She released her death grip at his back but kept her hands loosely laced around him as she tried to catch her breath.
It wasn’t until the frisson of her pleasure had finally dulled and gone that the fear crept back in…
Chapter 13
His head hurt. His mouth was dry. But it all would have been worse--so much worse--if Tawny hadn't been there the night before to ply him with food and Tylenol.
Rolling over, he breathed deep and caught the lavender scent of her hair, and barely resisted the urge to pull her closer and feel the sweet heat of her skin that was still warming his sheets.
He could sense the steady rise and fall of her body against the mattress as she breathed, and while she slept beside him, he played over the night before.
She had been incredible. Beyond incredible, really. The way she moved with him, like she needed him, like she knew what he wanted before even he did...it was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Of course, it could have been his alcohol-induced buzz, but somehow he didn't think so.
That was just Tawny.
But that was the problem, too, wasn't it? That was Tawny he'd been with. The mother of his child. The woman who still barely knew him but who he was tied to for life, in some way or another. And now that they'd been together twice, were they committed now? A couple?
He had talked about trying to see if that was a possibility, but did sleeping together again seal the deal? He wouldn't turn away the mother of his child, and after sex like that and the way she'd cared for him when he was buzzed and on his way to drunk, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to.
He pulled the sheets tighter around him, but then he felt the mattress move and turned to find Tawny shifting. Her long lashes fluttered open, and then her hazel eyes widened as she took him in.
In that instant, he knew that last night had definitely not solved anything.
She pulled the sheets so tightly around her naked body that she practically ripped them off of him, and then stumbled from the bed so quickly that he was surprised she hadn't left a puff of cartoon dust behind in her wake.
Someone was having serious second thoughts.
"Good morning," he said, then pulled his duvet over his lap as he straightened in the bed, trying to keep his tone light in the wake of her obvious panic.
Her gaze raked over him, focusing for a moment on his bare chest, then she squeaked, "Good morning. I should probably grab my things and just..."
She didn't bother explaining what she "just" had to do. Instead, she searched the floor, apparently in search of her clothes. If she didn't look so frantic, it might have even been cute. Her hair was sticking out in all directions and the little swell of her belly in the sheet made her look semi-ridiculous.
"Your clothes are over here. I dropped them on my side of the bed when I--"
"Right, right,” she cut in, cheeks pink. “I remember." She hurried to his side of the bed, and he reached to grab her shirt, but she beat him to it. Careful to hold the sheet in place, she slipped the shirt over her head and then wriggled until both her arms were in the sleeves.
"Um, I don't mean to be crude or anything, but...I have already seen you naked several times. It might be easier to get dressed if you just--"
"I'm good. This is fine. I do it like this when I’m alone too.” She snatched her pants from the ground, then frowned at the sheet-skirt she was now clutching at her hips. “What can I say? I’m a weirdo.” Her laugh was shrill and tinny and it was all he could do not to scoop her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.
"I can go. Or I can hold the sheet up for you if you want. So I don't see," he offered. "Or I could get under the covers while you--"
“No, don’t be silly. It’s your place. I’m the one who can go. I’m just going to pop into the bathroom for a minute,” she said the words in a rush, and just as quickly the door snapped closed behind her.
He opened his mouth, wondering if he should yell through the door that they should talk, though he didn't have the faintest idea of where they might start. Last night seemed like the obvious choice, but then there was everything to do with the baby that they hadn’t even touched on. How they would raise him, how they would take care of him, what their relationship would be like while they got ready for him to come along.
Just considering the possibilities were beyond overwhelming, and he was sure she felt the same way. Maybe if he approached it gently, she might calm down a little and just be herself. Like the way she'd been last night at the bar while they'd talked about music. Or the way she'd been when they’d been talking that night by the lake.
Those times when she'd been most herself around him instead of this skittering, nervous--
The bathroom door swung open and Tawny emerged with his sheet folded neatly in her hands. She dropped it at the edge of the bed, then started speaking at the speed of sound.
"Ok, well, I should get going. Stuff to do and all. I hope you're feeling okay and I'm sure we'll be in touch soon, so--"
“You don't have my phone number,” he said, cutting through her avalanche of nervous words. She looked alarmed for a minute before winding up again.
"Oh, um, right. I'll need that, I guess. I'll just...um..." She scrambled toward the kitchen and started opening drawers at random.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Looking for a pen."
“I’ll text you right now and you’ll have it." He picked the smart phone up from the ground beside him and then tapped out a quick text to her.
"Oh. Right. Perfect. Well, the world waits for no man. So. Have a good day."
She moved the the door, swung it open, then disappeared down the steps without so much as another glance at him.
For the life of him, he couldn't figure her out. He scrubbed a hand over his face, remembering what Rex had said in the garage the day before.
Was it possible that it had been bad for her? Both times? That, in his own addled state, he hadn't taken care of her the way he'd thought he had?
Jesus, what if she’d been faking it?
His gut churned. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. And she seemed to like him the rest of the time. In fact, she only seemed to bolt and not want to talk to him anymore after they’d had sex. He’d be thick as a brick not to wonder if the two things were related.
He’d wanted a chance to make it better for her--but what if last night had only made it worse? He supposed it might not matter, that they would--if Tawny's actions were any indication--likely never have sex again. But still, something about it stuck in his craw.
Could he really allow her to walk around thinking he was shitty in bed? She was the mother of his child, after all. And if she did...
Well, he didn't know what, but he barely resisted the urge to get in his truck, race her home, and try to set the record straight once and for all.
She clearly needed some space right now, and he was going to give it to her.
But come tomorrow? He was going to put on the full court press to give her something else. And this time, it would be so good, her legs would be too weak to walk away even if she wanted to.
Chapter 14
She felt like an Olympic sprinter, vaulting her way down the steps of Luke's tiny apartment. It was good of him, at least, to have not followed her. It gave her time to consider how dumb, irresponsible, and completely thoughtless she'd been.
Seriously, what did she think was going to happen? That a little toe-curling sex would manage to make things somehow less awkward between her and the father of her child?
Yeah, that seemed likely.
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