by Evelyn Adams
By the time they made it into the church most of the other people attending were seated. Without thinking, Luke paused to dip his fingertips into the Holy Water and make the sign of the cross. Claire noticed and cocked her head to the side with a smile.
“I didn’t know you were Catholic, Masters.”
“I’m not. I haven’t been for a very long time.” He hadn’t been to mass in decades, but old patterns were hard to break. His mother had been Catholic, and after she left his father continued to take Luke until the hypocrisy got to be too much for Luke, and he had to get out. It didn’t do any good to sit in church on Saturday night when you were an asshole the rest of the week.
They walked into the sanctuary and the scent of incense hit him, taking him right back to his childhood. The memory was so strong; if it hadn’t been for Claire, he would have bolted. Time spent remembering anything before he left home was time fucking wasted.
He stayed a step behind Claire as she and the nurse helped her father to the front of the sanctuary where the family sat. He tried unsuccessfully to ignore the closed casket sitting on its stand in the front. Part of him still couldn’t believe she’d gotten him to a funeral and into a church. He still wasn’t sure exactly how it happened. It wasn’t a choice exactly. He just knew he had to be there for her.
Pete’s widow looked up as they approached, her eyes glistening with tears. Claire murmured something in her father’s ear, and he turned to face the woman, reaching for her hands.
“I’m so sorry, Maria,” he said, his voice surprisingly clear and strong. “So very sorry. Pete was like a brother to me. I know how hard it is to lose the person you love most. I hate that it’s happened to you and like this.”
Claire’s breath caught in a sob, and Luke stepped in behind her, not thinking, simply needing her to know he was there. He couldn’t stand to see her in pain, and fuck it all but the tears in the old man’s eyes were doing a number on him. He didn’t know how she stood it.
“Thank you, Frank,” said Maria, taking his hand in both of hers. “Pete felt the same about you.”
Claire wrapped her arm around her father, gently guiding him away. As soon as they moved forward. Maria Lester saw Luke with his hand on Claire’s back, and her eyes widened.
“Mr. Masters,” she said and the rest of her family’s attention shifted to the pair. “This is unexpected, but thank you for coming.”
“I’m so sorry for you loss.” Claire moved out of his reach and for the space of a few heartbeats, Luke and the older woman simply looked at each other. There wasn’t anything else to say. “If there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know,” he said, trying to mitigate the awkwardness. Fuck, the lawyers were going to string him up by his balls. It didn’t matter. He paid them an obscene amount of money to work for him, not the other way around.
“Thank you,” Maria said.
He nodded and hurried to catch up with Claire before he made things worse. She, her father and his nurse had found seats about halfway back. The last few parishioners found their seats as the priest made his entrance, and they were off to the races. With Claire to his left, he stood, knelt and sat at all the appropriate places and tried pushing aside the memories of all the times he’d done the same thing with his father after his mother left.
His parents married when his mother was barely more than a teenager. Luke had vague memories of the gorgeous woman who smelled like Chanel and cigarettes, but when he remembered her face, he wasn’t sure if it was an actual memory of her or one of the dozens of photographs his father kept around the house.
His father had been crazy in love with his mother, emphasis on the crazy. Luke knew from the photographs that she was gorgeous with dark hair and lashes and a full Cupid’s bow mouth. Her beauty attracted a lot of attention, and apparently his mother was never one to shy away from the spotlight. She stayed with his dad until she got pregnant, but afterwards she blamed his father and him for ruining her body and her looks.
She couldn’t stand being tied down, and the last thing she wanted was to be a working man’s wife. A richer man came along and offered her everything she wanted, but he didn’t want to raise another man’s brat. So Luke’s mother ran off, and Luke got stuck with a father who blamed him for losing the love of his life. He wasn’t more than four or five when it happened. The only reason he knew about his parents’ relationship was because his father used to tell him how he’d cost him anything that mattered and ruined his fucking life every time he drank which was every night and every time he came after him with his belt which was almost as often.
The last time he’d seen his father, he’d slammed Luke against the wall by his throat. It was hard enough to rattle the empty beer bottles littering the filthy kitchen counter, but the old man had underestimated how strong his son was, and he’d hurt him one too fucking many times. Luke knocked him on his ass and left. But he’d already learned every single day of his life exactly what loving someone could cost you. He had no intention of repeating his father’s mistake.
His father drank himself to death before Luke bought his first property. By the time Luke made his first million, his mother was on husband number four, and she reached out to him. Apparently once he had money, he became another man who was worth her time. His staff fielded her attempts to contact him and eventually she gave up. The last he heard she was living in Europe somewhere with some kind of third tier royalty.
Claire nudged him, forcing him back to the present in time to see the faithful lining up for communion. She’d bumped him hard enough for him to know it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention while he’d been wandering down fucking memory lane.
“Do you want to take communion?” she asked, moving her knees to the side to let him out of the pew.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips against the delicate shell of her ear. “The last time I was in a state of grace I had my cock buried inside your sweet cunt. I think I’ll sit this one out.”
She sucked in a breath, and he knew he’d been deliberately crude. He also knew by the way her pretty pale skin flushed that she was remembering, too. He had every intention of reminding her later.
He made it through the rest of communion, the commendation and the incensing and then it was time to send Pete on his way. As Pete’s sons and friends carried the casket out of the church, Luke shoved the memories of any family he had into a box and threw away the key. By the time the widow made her way down the aisle he’d managed to fill the pinprick holes in the wall around his heart with ice.
Becky took Mr. English by the arm and started to lead him out of the pew to follow the other mourners. He stumbled, and Claire reached for his arm to steady him. The old man spun around with none of the love in his eyes he had earlier for his daughter.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped.
Claire took a step back like she’d been slapped, and Luke put a steadying hand on her back.
“Don’t worry, honey,” said the nurse, giving Claire a look filled with pity. “I’ve got it.”
Claire hung back a few steps while the woman led her father away.
“Do you want to go with them?” Luke asked, hooking her arm under his.
“He won’t want me to. It’ll be easier on Becky if I stay away. I guess it was too much to expect him to stay with me – right here in the present – all day, but God I’d hoped.”
“Sweetheart.” He didn’t have anything else to say. The disease that was stealing her father was a fucking waste, the same as the accident which took Pete. It seemed all too often the bad stuff never happened to bad people.
Leading Claire down the aisle behind the grieving family and the father who didn’t know her made Luke all too aware of exactly how much pain love could cause. Even between people who wanted the best for each other. He wasn’t an expert, but to him the old “it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” line seemed like a load of bullshit.
He’d focu
s on giving Claire as much pleasure as he could and taking some for himself. Loving someone gave them too much power to cause pain, even if they never intended to. He’d built an empire on calculated risks and it was an unacceptable risk. He’d keep things physical and save the falling in love bit for people who didn’t know any better.
CLAIRE SAT IN THE SEAT beside Luke, trying not to think about the way her father had looked at her on his way out of the church and failing. It was like losing him over and over, and it hurt like hell. In a way, it was like what happened to him each time he was clear enough to realize that her mother was gone.
She knew her parents loved each other. She’d always known it. Their love was a palpable force in their home. She grew up surrounded by it. And watching her father and Maria talking about the loves they’d had and lost, there was no doubt in her mind that even faced with the overwhelming heartache, they’d both say it was worth it
Pete dying was such a waste, even more because nothing about it made any sense. She still couldn’t think of any possible reason for him to be near the window openings on six. But even with all that, she couldn’t help but see the legacy of the life he and Maria built together. He was gone and it was hard and horrible, but he left behind a big loving family who would take care of each other. They’d take the love Pete and Maria shared with each other and them and spread it out into the world, passing it onto their kids.
It was exactly what Claire wanted. She adored her father, but it had been lonely since it was just the two of them. She wanted a husband and a house full of kids, a big noisy family to love and be loved by.
She glanced over at Luke as he pulled the car into the underground garage. In his black suit with the crisp white shirt he was walking sex, but he wasn’t husband material. She didn’t think he was normally even up for an actual relationship. Although when they’d made love the night Pete died, she could have sworn he felt more than just sex. When he’d cradled her against him, it felt like he loved her even if he didn’t say the words.
She gave her head a little shake. Those were dangerous thoughts and ones she couldn’t afford if she had any chance of keeping her heart safe. She was already in way too deep.
He slid the Jag into the empty space next to the Veyron and turned to face her, running the back of his fingers down her cheek.
“There’s an awful lot going on in that gorgeous head of yours. I know that had to be hard on you. Are you okay?”
She nodded, touched by his tenderness. “I never get used to seeing him like that, but I trust Becky. I know she’ll take care of him.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the home?”
“No. Having me around just makes it worse.” She closed her eyes for a moment against the truth of her words.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll make you forget about all of it.”
Before she could decide if forgetting was what she wanted to do, he was helping her out of the car, his hand resting strong and warm on the small of her back. Her entire focus shifted to the way his fingertips traced the bumps of her spine through the silk of her blouse. She was a smart capable woman who had accomplished many things, so why did he always seem to be able to reduce her to simply her body’s reaction to him? He touched her and everything else faded away.
He led her onto his private elevator, barely waiting for the door to slide closed before he hauled her against him and kissed her long enough for her to forget how to breathe. His hand tangled in her hair, tugging against the pins holding the French twist in place and forcing her head back so he could reach her neck. Laying a trail of kisses along her jaw, he worked his way down her throat to scrape his teeth over the sensitive skin above her collar bone.
Her nipples tightened and every nerve in the path of his mouth zinged to life. He reached for the top button on her blouse as the elevator door slid open. Not taking his hands off of her, he moved her to the door of his penthouse and fobbed them inside. He kicked the door closed behind them and had her up against the wall before she realized they’d moved. Everything about his touch was hot, demanding and completely irresistible. He wasn’t tender or loving. He was hungry and her body responded, desire coiling with molten heat low in her belly as her panties got wet in anticipation.
Hooking his hand behind her knee, he hauled her leg around his waist, hiking up her skirt and opening her to him. She sucked in a breath as he fitted his long hard cock to the hot V of her body, pressing up on her toes to get closer. In heels she could almost get him where she wanted. She ground against him and felt his breath hot on her neck as he exhaled with a groan.
“Bed, Claire. Now. I’m not going to fuck you up against a wall when I could have you spread out naked in my bed like a feast for me to devour.”
She fought the whimper bubbling up from her throat at his words, but she didn’t fight him when he took her hand and led her down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as she was through the door, he pulled her into him, and she landed against his chest. Reaching for the collar of her blouse with both hands, he yanked, ripping the black silk open and sending buttons flying. She felt her skin flush at the savageness of his gesture. The need in his eyes. Standing in front of him in her ruined blouse and black lace bra she knew she’d do anything he wanted her to.
He trailed a finger down her throat, following the path the buttons had taken, the warm pad of his fingertip running down the center of her chest between her breasts. The controlled touch was so at odds with what he’d just done; she froze uncertain, waiting to see what came next. He stroked past her ribcage, pausing to dip the tip of his finger into the hollow of her belly button.
Sliding his finger under the waistband of her skirt, he traced his way to the zipper at her hip leaving her skin pebbled in his wake. He undid the zipper and let her skirt fall to the floor, making an appreciative noise deep in his throat as his gaze rested on her stockings and garters. She’d started wearing them just for him, and it was worth it every time to see his reaction. Hooking his fingers in her panties he pushed them over her hips and steadied her while she stepped out of them and her skirt.
“Fuck, Claire. You’re gorgeous.” He breathed in, nostrils flaring and she felt like prey being scented by a predator. He reached past her, grabbing the corner of the duvet and tossing it to the floor. “Up on the bed, sweetheart, and leave the heels on.”
With as much grace as she could manage in the four inch black fuck me heels, she climbed onto the bed and crawled toward the headboard. Leaning back against the pillows, she met Luke’s gaze as she slowly and deliberately let her legs fall open. His hand froze where he’d been loosening his tie.
“Really?” he asked, arching a brow before giving the tie a tug and pulling it free of his collar with the swish of silk against cotton.
Keeping the tie wrapped around his hand, he unfastened his belt and yanked it through the loops with a snap. He folded the belt, stalking toward her as she struggled to keep from closing her legs. She felt like she’d poked a tiger. Every time she thought she had a handle on what they were doing he turned the tables on her.
“Lean back,” he commanded, and she complied, settling deeper into the pillows piled against the headboard.
But she couldn’t close her eyes, she kept her gaze locked on his face, trying to anticipate what he’d planned for her. He toed off his shoes before climbing onto the bed and kneeling between her spread legs. Laying the belt across the tender skin of her inner thigh, he hooked his hand behind her knee, raising it up and out, spreading her open for him.
She reached down to touch his hand, needing some kind of connection, and he caught her wrist, bringing her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the center of her palm before positioning her fingers on her knee. He pulled the belt free, the thick leather sliding over her skin sending a wave of delicious anticipation through her body. With quick efficient movements, he wrapped his belt around her forearm and thigh, cinching it tight enough for her to feel the small bite of
pain.
“I...” She opened her mouth to speak not sure what she intended to say, but he cut her off, pressing his finger to her bottom lip.
“Hush, sweetheart. I’ve got this. All you have to do is feel. That’s all,” he said, dipping his fingertip into her mouth to touch the tip of her tongue.
She licked, swirling her tongue around his finger the way she did his cock, before pulling it deeper into her mouth and sucking.
His eyes drifted momentarily shut in pleasure, before he pulled away, leaning back on his knees. “I intend to put that gorgeous mouth of yours to good use,” he said. “But I’m going to make you come first.”
Sliding his hand over her inner thigh, he caught her leg behind the knee, pushing it up and away from her body, spreading her open. Cool air teased her damp sex, and she watched his jaw clench as he looked down at her, exposed and willing. He used the tie to fasten her forearm to her thigh, knotting the silk tight before running his fingertip over the slick seam of her sex.
She bucked her hips, desperate to get him to touch her where she needed him most, but the position he’d tied her in prevented her from doing more than arching her back and pressing her breasts forward. He gave her a cocky smirk which said he knew exactly what he was doing to her and then unbuttoned a few more buttons on his dress shirt, giving her a glimpse of his muscled chest.
“Wait there,” he said with grin. He was pleased with himself, and it bugged her to no end that he got off on helplessness.
“Fuck you, Masters,” she said, half-joking but frustrated at not being able to do anything to knock him off his game. He was calling the shots and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Both an infuriating and delicious situation.
“No, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you. Any way I want to for as long as I want.”
His words tightened something low in her belly and sent another rush of slick arousal to her already aching pussy. While she watched, he climbed off the bed, standing where she could see everything he was doing. He picked up the remote from the nightstand, turning on music with a low grinding bass.