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“Mrs. Saraci, I want you.”
She traced his bottom lip with her thumb. “How much?”
“It cannot be quantified.”
“That’s such a Lucas answer.”
“Beg me, Raina.” He kissed her nose, the space between her eyebrows. “Put us both out of our misery and beg me.”
“I don’t beg.”
“It’s never too late to try something new.”
“I’m not even sure what I’d be begging for. A kiss? For you to make love to me?”
“All of the above.”
There was no way they would be able to hold out for much longer, especially after she brought up their proposition about living together.
“I missed you,” she whispered. “When I was in North Carolina, I missed you.”
He brushed her cheek with his. “Can you say that one more time for me?”
“I missed you, Lucas.”
He shuddered. “Mmm. And I missed you, Rai.”
Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close to him as she could get. She slid her hands underneath his T-shirt to feel the warm skin on his back against her fingertips. Then he pulled her off the island, and she locked her legs around his middle.
“Don’t stop me, okay?” she requested, seconds before pressing her lips to his.
He groaned.
She answered with a breathy one of her own, unable to recall the last time something felt more natural. Everything was as right as right could get—the softness of his lips, the way they felt moving with hers, the hungry flicks of his tongue, how it felt to be held by him.
Kissing Lucas fulfilled every ache and need and was about more than lips. It was his breath brushing the space beneath her nose, the quiet sounds in his throat, his hands stroking her skin, and the warmth of his skin beneath her palms.
Their lips came apart like magnets, and she found herself looking down into eyes like glass marbles.
Eventually, he released her.
She could have held on for a day or two longer, but she unfolded her legs and let him set her on her feet.
“I’m going to change out of these into something softer.” She pointed at the hallway. “And freshen up.”
After only a few minutes in this man’s arms, she was wetter than the harbor outside. Sexual attraction and tension were there, but it was beginning to dawn on her that it might not be enough.
He’d pursued her.
He’d told her, point blank, that he wanted her to have his last name because he would be hers one day. It didn’t sit well with her that those might have been the words of a man whose only desire was to have sex with her and get her out of his system.
But then there were the flowers.
And the texts.
The lunch.
The ring on her finger.
