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JO
Lucas Bakker lookedinto my soul as he turned his body toward mine.
“I’m glad you stayed for a couple of reasons. One is absolutely gentlemanly. The other is not.” His eyes blazed, and I had no words. This hallucination was too real.
He may have been playing me, but I didn’t care. He said magical things, and he looked so good saying them.
“Lucas,” I whispered. I was being pulled to him, and my breath hitched. He didn’t move as I swayed closer. Lifting my lips to his, I melted into him. Instantly, his arms were around me, surrounding me with warmth and strength as his kiss overwhelmed me. My blood sizzled through my veins. What was happening?
Instinctively, I opened for him, and his tongue delved in, twisting with mine like he was filled with as much yearning as I was.
The snow-altered landscape had taken on a dreamy vibe. In my dreams, I was confident and sure, exploring every inch of his hard, masculine body. In the dark and the flickering firelight, I wanted that.
“Jo, you feel so good.” He kissed like he meant it, really fucking meant it, and he roamed his hands across my back, coming to rest above my hips and ass. My anxiety pinged. What did he think of my body? Definitely not stick-thin.
With our lips still fused, he nudged me toward the sofa. We passed the end table, and I fumbled with the lamp, finally switching it off. Lucas slid his mouth past the tender skin below my ear and down to the beginning of my shoulder. I shivered in pleasure on an exhale, pressure already building in my core.
“I’d like the light on. I want to see you.”
You may not like what you see. “The firelight is nice,” I whispered.
“Okay, this time.” He ran his nose along my neck behind my ear and inhaled.
This time? He thought there would be more times? I pushed that idea out of my mind. I would enjoy him tonight, and I wouldn’t expect more. No more talking, no more thinking. He turned to sit on the sofa and pulled me over him. No, no, no. Not on top. He would feel my weight for sure. I prayed he hadn’t noticed earlier.
I sat back and pulled him on top of me. Thankfully, he followed, his lips finding mine again. He stretched out, and I felt his heat everywhere. I circled my arms around his waist and clutched his hardness tighter to my aching center.
He kept one hand in my hair while the other moved over my breast and under the hem of my sweatshirt. He groaned when his hand touched my braless skin, and he kissed me harder, delving in deeper as he kneaded and caressed. Each time his fingers teased across my tight nipple; it sent an electric current straight to my sex.
I was on fire. I slid my palms down his back to his firm ass. Not one bit of fat. Only solid, unyielding muscles covered in warm skin under his jeans. My heart raced, my breaths were short. The sensation in my core intensified. His magic mouth and touch drove me higher. The fullness of his hard length at my apex made me quiver. I wanted him closer, and I rocked against him. His weight pushed me deeper into the sofa cushions as I struggled to unbutton his jeans.
He rose, pausing and panting, and lifted his head to look at me. His hand rested on my side. “Jo, wait.”
No. I didn’t want to wait. If I waited, I would think, and I would stop. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to pretend I did this all the time. Fucked an Adonis on his sofa in the firelight. Just another one-night stand for me.
“Please, Lucas, don’t stop.” I raised my lips to his.
His smile was hungry and greedy, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “I like the sound of those words coming from you.”
“Then fuck me. I want you to.”
He blinked.
“Jo, this happened fast. I need you to be sure.” He smoothed back a piece of my hair. “I want this. Been dreaming about it, but I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret it.”
His tenderness surprised me. I gave him a clear green light, and he was still checking in. My traitor heart flipped.
Nope. Hot and heavy was safer. “I want this. Nothing has to change. One night and we go back to arguing in the kitchen.”
His dimples lit his face. “I like arguing with you in the kitchen. I like it a lot.” He shifted his hips and ground himself against me.
I moaned. “Too many clothes, Lucas.”
“I agree.” He did a push-up above me and stood. Immediately, I missed his warmth, his weight, and his woodsy, clean scent. He looked at me, still stretched out on the sofa and panting. I took his offered hand and rose on wobbly legs. Electrified silence arced between us.
He led me through the room in slow but efficient strides as he hit the switch to turn off the gas fireplace and lights along our path toward the staircase at the front of the house. The roll and flex of his muscles under the fabric of his shirt hypnotized me. He didn’t look back, just pulled me behind him, sure and steady, up the stairs.
His bedroom was tidy and smelled of leather and him. He released my hand, and I stood by the bed, overwhelmed. I hoped I wasn’t visibly shaking. He hit the switch for the fireplace across from us and raised the blackout shades on the wide expanse of lawn out to the cliff and channel below. He returned to me, his gaze soft but predatory.
