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Nine
In the morning, Cia woke half-buried under Lucas, and it made her smile. One heavy arm pinned her to his chest and his legs tangled with hers, trapping her bottom against his abdomen. His heat at predawn was delicious, warming her sore and stretched body.
It had been a while. Since college, back when she’d still been convinced the right man’s love would heal her. All she’d done was prove sex didn’t equal love, and both were ingredients in the recipe to misery.
If her high school days had resembled most red-blooded Americans’, she might have figured out how to handle relationships then, instead of lumbering into her mid-twenties without a clue. Now she finally got it.
As long as she divorced sex from emotion and commitment, no problem. Divorce rocked.
She unscrambled their limbs without waking him and slipped out of bed to head for a much-needed hot shower. It probably wouldn’t have taken any effort at all to nudge Lucas into semiawareness and then take shameless advantage of him, but she was anxious to get to the shelter. A part of her hoped Pamela would still be there, but in her heart, she knew better. Regardless, the other women would need someone to talk to.
In no time, she dressed and tiptoed out of the bedroom she now shared with the sexy, slumbering man sprawled out across the bed. Later, she promised. No-strings-attached sex was the most awesome thing ever invented.
Pamela was indeed gone for good when Cia arrived at the shelter. The other women seemed dejected and upset. How self-centered was she for being in such a good mood, for shutting her eyes and savoring memories of the previous night? But she couldn’t help it and had to force herself to stop humming three times while handling the most unexciting tasks.
Since she’d stayed so late the night before and arrived at seven that morning, Cia elected to leave at three.
She should be wiped out, but as she drove home, her mind got busy with one topic only—seeing Lucas again as soon as possible. She couldn’t stop fantasizing about him. About the beyond-sexy trio of tattoos down the length of his torso and how she’d like to experiment on him a little to see how many times she could make him explode in a night.
Was it cool to call him and ask about his schedule? She’d almost sent him a text at least once every ten minutes, just to check in. Or say thanks for an awesome time last night. Or something else not so lame, but she had no idea about the rules when the person she was sleeping with was also her fake husband.
They’d done a lot of talking last night. But not once had Lucas mentioned what their relationship would look like going forward.
So frustrating. And ridiculous. It wasn’t as if she could casually ask Courtney the requisite number of days to wait before calling when the guy involved was Cia’s husband. As far as her friend knew, the marriage was still business only, and Cia wanted to get used to the change before admitting anything to anyone.
Besides, she and Lucas still weren’t dating. Maybe it was okay to let her spouse know she was into him. In a strictly hot for his body kind of way.
Once at home, she stopped in the kitchen to get a glass of water and drank it while standing at the sink. Before she could swallow the second mouthful, said spouse blew through the door, startling her into dropping the glass into the sink.
“What are you doing home?” she asked.
Lucas strode toward her in a dark suit, which encased his shoulders with perfection, and a dark, impossible-to-misread expression on his face. Raw masculinity whipped through the kitchen to engulf her a moment before the man did.
He caught her in his arms and kissed her, openmouthed, hungrily, working her backward until her butt hit the countertop’s edge.
She was trapped between hard granite and hard Lucas, and he was devouring her whole with his mouth. A whirlwind of desire kicked up in her center.
Dull thunks registered, and Lucas’s hands delved inside her shirt, yanking down her bra and palming her breasts. Buttons. He’d popped all the buttons on her shirt and they’d thunked to the floor.
Four seconds later, he stripped her. Then he tore off his jacket, ripped the rest of his clothes half off and boosted her onto the counter. Cold stone cooled her bare bottom and sizzled against her fevered core.
Less than five minutes after he’d walked in the door, he spread her legs wide and plunged in with a heavy groan.
She dropped into the spiral of need and hooked her legs behind him, urging him on. His mouth was everywhere, hot and insatiable. His thrusts were hard, fast. She met him each time, already eager for the next one. Pinpoints of sensation swirled and then burst as she came, milking his climax.
What happened to slow down?
They slumped together, chests heaving, her head on his shoulder and his head on hers. She put her arms around him for support since her spine had been replaced with Jell-O.
