by Virna DePaul
She snorted and glowered at him. “I know Meredith told you about the divorce.”
He smiled wickedly. “Then you know why I’m here.” He tsked. “A year’s a long time to renege on a promise, Sarah. You should have called me.”
“So you could show up gloating that much sooner? Tell me, did the boys at the country club find it amusing that Sure-Thing-Sarah Larson couldn’t even keep her own husband satisfied?”
Any trace of amusement fled his body.
She knew he hated it when she called herself that, not because he gave a rat’s ass how many guys she’d fucked when she was younger but because she used the moniker to push him away. “From what I heard, it was Richard who couldn’t satisfy you. The fact he screwed around so publicly was a patently obvious cover.”
She gave him an unreadable look, keeping a firm hand on the door.
“Is that what you think I’ve been doing, Sarah? Discussing our personal business at the country club?” As if he’d actually hang out at his parents’ club while he was in town. He’d rather eat his mother’s favorite pâté, which he detested, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Haven’t you?” she grumbled.
“No,” he said, then tilted his head inquisitively. “But it sure makes me wonder why you’d think it. Was that why you ended things between us? Why you married Richard Walters? Because he was adequately middle class? Or because you thought I talked trash about you with the Palm Springs elite?” Either thought pissed him off. Even if they’d only gone out a few months before she’d met Richard, she knew him better than that.
Didn’t she?
He might have been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, but he’d never felt entitled because of it. In fact, he’d spent most of his time living his background down. He’d never used his money or connections to hurt others. Hell, he despised anyone who would. He’d fought his father tooth and nail to stay out of the family business. To make his own way in the world. His father had even disowned him when he’d become a cop. They’d eventually reconciled, but it hadn’t been because Luke had gone crawling back to him. He made his own decisions and formed his own opinions. Screw what anyone else thought. That had been just as true when he’d gotten involved with Sarah, despite what his peers had said about her. Apparently, however, their differing backgrounds had been a bigger deal for her than he’d known.
When he’d been sucking her nipples and going down on her and thrusting himself into her warm, wet body, a part of her had doubted him. That knowledge made him want to kill someone, starting with whoever had made her believe the shit people said about her.
Her glance momentarily flickered away before she tilted her chin up. “I don’t need you coming over telling me you ‘told me so.’ I’ve gotten enough of that as it is.”
She tried shutting the door again. Luke stopped it, this time pressing inward until she was forced to step back.
He’d let her push him away once before. He hadn’t fought for her. Hadn’t told her just how very important to him she’d become. Maybe it had been male pride. Or maybe he’d simply believed she’d come around on her own. But he’d been miserable ever since and he wasn’t about to let that happen again.
Entering her apartment, he silently closed the door. With her flushed cheeks, glittering eyes, and disheveled hair, she looked mad. And turned on.
Which described how he felt to a tee.
But she also looked the slightest bit scared.
Of him? Of his changed exterior—his hair, cropped short and the tips bleached but now growing out, his pierced ear, and his dragon tattoo on the side of his neck, all accoutrements of his undercover life?
Or of what he made her feel?
He sure as hell hoped it was the latter because if she really feared him—if she really thought he could harm her—then there was no hope for them.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the door, doing his best to look harmless. “I’ll admit, I’m glad you divorced the prick.” He hadn’t known Richard well, but he’d gone to school with him. Money aside, the guy had always acted as if he was entitled to more than the average human. “But I’m not gloating. I am, however, looking forward to what comes next.”
She sighed and looked down at her unpolished nails, feigning boredom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smiled at her sassiness. No, she wasn’t afraid he’d hurt her.
The look in her eyes told him she knew exactly what he’d meant. She remembered her hasty promise … a promise he would be collecting on. Now.
Shaking his head and making a chastising noise, he straightened and advanced on her. She took several steps back, until she came up against a wall. Bracing a hand on either side of her head, he leaned down until they were nose to nose. Her scent and warmth invaded his pores, and he welcomed her in like a crack addict getting a fix.
Too long.
He’d been without her for too long.
“Like I said, you know exactly why I’m here, Sarah. I’m here to collect on what you promised me.”
“Promised?”
He reached out one finger and trailed it down her cheek. Her skin felt as soft and velvety as the rose petals she’d once sprinkled across the bed before they made love. At the gentle contact, she closed her eyes and trembled. His dick swelled and lengthened until the pleasure-pain was a sweet kind of torture. “You don’t remember assuring me that Richard was exactly who you needed? That your marriage was forever and if you ever divorced, you’d do me a different way, every day, my way, ‘Monday through Sunday.’ Let me do all the ‘nasty things’ I’d fantasized about but you’d never acquiesced to?”
Her eyes flashed open, and she batted his hand away, making him laugh.
“I was joking. Being sarcastic! I was pissed, Luke, and you know it.”
He stepped back. “A promise is a promise. I told you Richard had sold you a bill of goods and the relationship wouldn’t last. You convinced yourself otherwise and were willing to back up that delusion with sex … sex any way I want.”
She narrowed her eyes, but looked more turned-on than angry.
It gave him the encouragement to proceed.
“Maybe you regret it now, but I’m taking you at your word. So you might as well get used to the idea, baby. Because I’ve got a whole year due to me, not to mention four years without you to make up for, and I’m not skimping on one single second of any of it.”
Sarah hadn’t had sex with a man in a long time. Over the last few lonely years, she’d convinced herself she wasn’t interested in it. That her vibrator gave her what a man never could—guaranteed orgasms with no strings attached. At least it had until recently.
Be that as it may, with Luke right in front of her—hard flesh and warm blood and smooth muscles all amounting to a big, broad hunk of male yumminess—her body was suddenly and vociferously protesting the idea of ever having to rely on a piece of latex again regardless of its dimensions or fancy capabilities.
When it came to making her long for physical pleasure, Luke had always had the right touch.
Too right.
He’d been capable of pushing her to enjoy things she’d never thought she’d try. The 69 position. Bondage. Even anal sex. She’d drawn the line at letting another man into their bed, even though the idea had secretly thrilled her, but he’d accepted her refusal the way he did most things in life—with good manners and good nature. In an odd way, that had simply heightened the insecurity she’d already felt about their relationship.
He was so … good.
It was why he’d become a cop, because he had a genuine need to help others and make the world a better place. He was willing to risk his own life to make that happen.
Deep down, she’d always known she wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him for long. Not only was she less sexually daring than he was and less altruistic as a general rule, but she was the epitome of the wrong side of the tracks. So stupidly, she’d chosen tradi
tional, missionary sex with a man she seriously liked even if she’d never loved him. She’d protected her heart and thought it would be enough.
It hadn’t been.
She’d tried, but she hadn’t been able to fake happiness with Richard.
And now, even when she’d managed to extricate herself from that relationship, at least physically, she still had to face Luke. Face him, as well as the truth.
He’d become even more alluring over the years. She’d never be able to satisfy him for more than a short time. He’d tire of her and long for something more. Someone without a shady past. A woman he’d be proud to have for his child’s mother. But most likely, being the good guy he was, he’d probably settle for her—like she’d once settled for Richard. She couldn’t let that happen.
He had her on that promise though.
She cursed her temper and how desperate she’d been for him to believe she loved Richard. That she wanted nothing to do with him. She’d been desperate for him to leave before she gave in to temptation, wrapped her arms around him, declared her undying love, and—in doing so—trapped Luke in a relationship that would never truly satisfy him.
And the whole time, he’d remained calm. Told her she was making a mistake. That no one could satisfy her the way he could. But he’d also let her walk away from him. And because she’d recognized the truth in his words at the same time she’d accepted he wasn’t going to stop her, she’d lashed out without thinking.
“I love Richard, not you. I’ll be with Richard forever. The day we get divorced is the day you can have me all day, every day, any way you want … Monday through Sunday.” She’d stepped closer to him. “I’ll even do all the nasty stuff you’ve fantasized about but I haven’t let you do. That’s how sure I am that Richard is not a mistake, but is where I belong.”
Now here he was, holding her to her word. And she was too rattled by his sudden appearance and by the craziness of Richard’s behavior to think straight. Luke had barely even touched her and she was ready to—
She moaned when he raised his hand and cupped her breast. She’d answered the door braless, in her thin cotton tee, which could be smoke for all the protection it offered against his touch. He filled his palm with her flesh, squeezing and lifting before pinching her nipple firmly between his fingers.
She felt the pull between her legs, a sharp burst of sensation that was almost orgasmic in its intensity. “Oh God, Luke. Don’t—” She whimpered when he pinched even harder and tugged, at the same time kneading her other breast and kissing her throat. Involuntarily, her head fell back, giving him better access.
It would be so easy to give in to him. To reacquaint herself with this stranger with familiar blue eyes, yet an unfamiliar ride and dangerous tattoo. But what would happen when she started to love him again? How could she walk away a second time and not have it kill her?
“Don’t what, Sarah?” he crooned. “Don’t pleasure you? Don’t fuck you? Fucking you has been all I’ve dreamed about for years. And fucking you is exactly what you’re hoping I’ll do.”
His arrogance momentarily prodded her to pull away. “You bastard, how dare you—”
He shut her up by tugging her against him and covering her mouth with his. Then he used everything he had to show her what a desirable bastard he still was. His lips.
His tongue and teeth.
The thrust of his hips against hers, so that his swollen cock nestled between her thighs with lustful eagerness.
He angled his mouth over hers. She forgot his arrogance and instead reveled in tasting him again. In being in his arms. In being given a second chance at happiness.
Happiness?
Sarah gasped and raised her hands to Luke’s shoulders to push him away.
Exactly what did she think was happening here? Did she think just because Luke had shown up wanting to have sex with her that anything had changed? That they were going to live happily ever after this time? Had she lost her mind?
Even if there was a remote possibility that Luke wanted that, even if she convinced herself she could fulfill Luke the way he deserved, Richard would never let it happen.
Plus, Luke was an undercover cop. He worked to save people all the time. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into her problems. He didn’t deserve to deal with someone like Richard. Not just for another roll in the sack with Sure-Thing-Sarah. Not when she knew Luke’s honor might compel him to hurt Richard, jeopardizing his own career and life in the process.
“Amazing. I’ve never felt anything better than you,” he murmured against her. “Never tasted anything sweeter than your mouth and skin. I want more, Sarah. I want you. To be on top of you. Against you. Inside you. God, I want that more than life itself.”
Thoughts of Richard evaporated, but she closed her eyes anyway, trying to protect herself from the allure of Luke’s words. It didn’t matter. They oozed inside her, sinking through her flesh to warm her bones, and making her dizzy with the kind of lust she hadn’t felt in years. Her hands, which had been pushing against his shoulders, now kneaded them, then explored the hard, chiseled planes of his chest.
She sighed. Reason and caution fled. Sensation and desire took over.
She had promised, she thought.
And anyone who knew Sarah knew one thing: she might have put out when she was younger … she might have come from poor white trash … she might have made the biggest mistake of her life when she’d left this man and married Richard …
But when Sarah made a promise, she kept it. She never went back on her word. No matter what.
CHAPTER THREE
One minute Sarah was pushing against his shoulders and the next she was smoothing her palms all over his chest. Within seconds, her hands moved to the front placket of his jeans. He groaned when she cupped his erection, then began working his zipper down. “Yes, Sarah. Touch me. I’ll die if I don’t feel your hands on me.”
She murmured a reassurance, dipped her hand in his briefs, and wrapped her cool fingers around his shaft at the same moment she sought his mouth with hers.
This time, she kissed him. She traced his lips with her tongue, then flicked it against his before retreating. When he growled and chased after her, she smiled. She hadn’t smiled at him in years, so he pulled back to see it, not just feel it.
“What’s wrong?” she breathed softly.
“Not a damn thing,” he answered, just as softly, fighting for his own breath. Cupping her face in his hands, he dropped a kiss on either side of her mouth before nipping her chin. Her lids grew heavier, as if the more they touched, the more entranced she became.
Good. That was good. Because he already felt high on her, and he didn’t want to be the only one feeling the effects of their intimacy.
The cool fingers encircling him tightened, and he swore he could feel a hot drop of liquid well out of his slit, begging for the touch of her tongue. Instinct demanded he push her to her knees and feed her his cock, working it inside her mouth in small increments until she’d swallowed him whole. With superhuman effort, he fought back the urge.
He’d always been greedy when it came to Sarah. He’d pushed her for everything she was willing to give him, and then some. And no matter what her initial inhibitions had been, she’d always given in. Always lost herself in the sensations he could draw from her body so that he’d end up feeling like a fucking God.
Well, almost always.
The only thing she’d consistently denied him was his desire to bring another man into their bed. He occasionally shared a woman with a trusted friend, and the idea of doing a threesome with Sarah was enough to blow his mind. Not because he wanted to share her on a regular basis, but because he wanted to give her the ultimate pleasure—having every single one of her cavities filled with the hot, heavy thickness of a man devoted to one thing: making her feel good.
He’d wanted to give her that, but he’d accepted her refusal with good grace. In fact, the notion that she wanted him and only him to pleasure her had its own di
stinct allure. It had made him feel incredible.
But then she’d left him. For Richard.
For a moment, residual anger and hurt caused him to wrench away from her. Breathing like a locomotive and blinking sweat from his eyes, he watched her hand fall to her side and her expression shutter.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I—”
“Uh-uh,” he said.
She stopped short. Raised an imperious brow.
“We’re not stopping now.” He jerked his pants all the way open and shoved them down, his briefs with them. His massive erection speared up toward his belly and, as she stared at it slack-jawed, he ripped off his shirt. “In fact, we’re just getting started.” He took a step toward her, stopping and clenching his fists when she backed away. Breaths still churning out of him, he glowered at her. “Don’t. Don’t you dare fucking act scared of me.”
“I’m not scared of you, you ass,” she snarled back. “But that doesn’t mean you can come in here and expect me to—to—”
He was on her in a second, one hand in her hair, jerking her head back, and the other hand cupping her pussy through her worn gray sweats. He could tell she wasn’t wearing panties and the crotch of her sweats was soaked through with her arousal. Gently, he pulsated his fingers, teasing her tender folds but purposely staying away from her swollen clit.
He pictured it, though, and his mouth watered to suckle it. To have her juices fill his mouth and coat the back of his tongue. To have his tongue embedded deep within her sweetest nectar.
Maddened, he tried to remember what she’d said about expectations. Hell, he didn’t have expectations, but he sure as shit had intentions.
He jerked her face even closer to his, not missing the way she bit her lip as the pressure on her scalp increased. Her expression confirmed she liked the bite of pain. That’s one thing she’d always been able to give him—her honest response to what turned her on in bed. The idea of a ménage à trois, for example, made her uncomfortable, but she’d never said it didn’t tempt her. He figured if they’d stayed together, he would have been able to convince her eventually. “I can’t come here and expect you to what?” he questioned. “Reclaim something that you’ve deprived us for so long?”