Читать книгу Wicked Christmas Nights: It Happened One Christmas - Leslie Kelly, Cara Summers - Страница 14

Then

New York, December 24, 2005

THOUGH ROSS HAD wanted Lucy to call the police right after Jude had slithered out, he had sensed her desperation to get out of her apartment. She didn’t just want to leave, she needed to. He suspected the place suddenly felt tainted to her, and had to wonder how long it would take before she ever felt safe there again.

That definitely wouldn’t happen until he got her locks changed. And no way in hell was she staying there alone until then.

So, after she’d thrown a few things in a bag, they’d headed for his place. After a short walk to his truck, and a long drive out of the city, they arrived in Brooklyn. Every mile put the ugly scene further into the past, and Ross was finally able to begin clearing his mind of the mental images of what might have happened had he not shown up when he did.

The very idea made him sick. And violence surged up within him when he so much as thought Jude’s name.

But now it was time to think about something else. Making sure she was okay and felt safe, for one. Wondering what the hell had happened with his life in the past twelve hours for another.

Nah, he’d think about that tomorrow.

“Here we are,” he said when he pulled up outside the tiny rental house where he lived. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was a place of his own—a place nobody had helped him get. He didn’t love the location, but he loved not feeling like he owed anything to anybody. Especially his father.

“I can’t tell you how much I…”

“Forget it,” he said, waving off her thank you. Probably her twentieth since they’d left her place.

Reaching into the tiny back compartment of the truck, he grabbed her small suitcase and her camera bag, then got out, going around to open her door. She didn’t wait, hopping out before he had made it around the bumper. “What a cute house!”

He raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Sure. You have a yard and everything. I can’t tell you how much I miss backyard barbecues in the summer.”

“The last tenant left a grill. Maybe I’ll cook up some burgers tomorrow.”

She laughed. “In the snow?”

“You call this snow? Yeesh. Until you’ve experienced a lake effects winter, you don’t know the meaning of snow.”

“I have,” she told him. “I grew up in Chicago.”

Shocked, he almost tripped. “Seriously?” The woman he had begun to suspect was the girl of his dreams had grown up in the same city, and he’d never even been aware of her? That seemed wrong on some cosmic level.

“Uh huh. And even the thought of that windy winter reminds me why I’ll never go back.”

His heart twisted a little at that admission, but he pushed aside the disappointment. “Yeah, I can’t say I’m missing it right now, either.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Actually he didn’t just think it, he knew it. One of these days, he was going to have to return and face up to his responsibilities. His father wasn’t getting any younger, or any healthier, and not one of his sisters showed any interest in construction.

Ross, on the other hand, genuinely loved it. He’d had a toy tool set as a kid, had built his first birdhouse at four. By the time he was ten, he had constructed a four-story Barbie house for his kid sister. He just had a real affinity for building things, and had never wanted to do anything else. Some even called it a gift.

Going away to college, then to grad school, and learning drafting and architecture had just made him better at his craft. More than that, he truly wanted to run the company one day, as his grandfather and now his father always said he would.

He just didn’t want to be forced to work there under his father’s watchful eye now. Having spent every summer and school holiday building things for Elite Construction, and knowing he’d end up doing that for much of his life, he just wanted some time to himself. To be free, to go somewhere new, to be totally on his own. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

Well, it was according to his father.

“Ross?”

Realizing he’d fallen into a morose silence, he shook his head, hard. “Hold on a sec,” he told her, going to the back of his covered truck to retrieve the robotic dinosaur and the bags of presents he’d been supposed to mail today. He’d told Lucy about them on the way home, and she’d promised to help him package them up tonight, then find a UPS store tomorrow.

Once inside, he flipped on the lights, and zoned-in on the thermostat. No, this wasn’t a Chicago winter, but it was still pretty damn cold. Plus the house was old and drafty.

He jacked up the heat, then turned back to Lucy, who looked a lot less shell-shocked than she had when they’d left the city. He didn’t try to hide his relief, glad for that strong, resilient streak he’d sensed in her from the moment they’d met.

Right now, she acted as though she didn’t have a care in the world. In fact, she was wandering around, comfortable enough to be nosy and check out the house. “Oh, my God, is that really a lava lamp?”

“Like the grill, also left by a former tenant. As was the couch and the ugly kitchen table.”

Lucky for him. After laying out cash for a security deposit, plus first and last month’s rent, he hadn’t had much money for furnishings.

Kinda funny, really, how he was living now. He’d been raised in a house with ten bedrooms on twenty acres. His sisters had each had a horse in the stable, and he’d had his choice of car when he’d turned sixteen. He hadn’t necessarily been born with a solid silver spoon in his mouth, but it would have to be called silver-plated.

And now he lived in a drafty, tiny old house with hand-me-down furniture and an old analog TV that got only one station, and that only if there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He drove a five-year-old truck whose payments were still enough to make him wince once a month. Ate boxed mac-and-cheese and Ramen noodles, the way a lot of the scholarship kids in college had.

Most shocking of all? He liked it.

You do this and you’re on your own, totally cut off! Don’t expect a penny from me!

His father’s angry voice echoed in his head. But so did an answering whisper: But I did it anyway, didn’t I? And I’m doing just fine.

“What about the bean bag chair?” Lucy asked, interrupting his thoughts of the angry scene last summer, right after graduation, when he’d decided not to move back home.

He admitted, “What can I say? I bought that one. It seemed to go with the decor.”

“Lemme guess…thrift store shopping spree?”

“Bingo.” Shrugging, he added, “I was on a budget.”

“I think my groovy, peace-sign Santa would fit in very well here.”

“Don’t even think about pawning that thing off on me. Even if it weren’t broken, I wouldn’t let that drugged-out St. Nick and those zombie-kids anywhere near my Christmas tree. It might lose all its needles in pure fear.”

She finally noticed the small tree, standing in the front corner near the window. Her smile faded a little, as if she’d suddenly remembered it was Christmas Eve, albeit very early on Christmas Eve—only about 1:00 a.m.

It was a sad-looking thing. He’d bought it on impulse—it had been the last one on a lot up the block, scrawny and short, with half its needles already gone. It had reminded him of Charlie Brown’s tree…in need of a home. So he’d shelled out the ten bucks and brought it here, sticking it in a bucket since he didn’t have a tree stand.

Nor had he had any real ornaments to put on it. Right now, an empty aluminum pot-pie tin served as a star on the top, and a bunch of picture hangers and odds-and-ends hung from the few branches.

As she stared at the pathetic thing, Lucy’s sadness appeared to fade. She shook her head, a slow, reluctant smile widening her pretty mouth. “Are those beer can tabs?”

“Just a few,” he admitted. “I was experimenting. I’m not a big drinker, so I only had a few cans in the fridge. I finally raided my toolbox.”

Putting a hand on her hip and tilting her head, she said, “And you had the nerve to criticize my Christmas decorations?”

“Hey, mine’s pathetic, not terrifying.”

“My snow globe from last year wasn’t terrifying.”

“Oh, no? Let me guess. A tiny female elf wearing pasties and a G-string?”

Her eyes rounded. “Ooh, that sounds fabulous! But, no, it was just a North Pole scene.”

He crossed his arms, waiting.

“With a clown that popped out of Santa’s chimney like a Jack-in-the-Box.”

Shuddering, he said, “Clowns are terrifying. What’s wrong with Jack?”

“Why would a Jack-in-the-Box be in Santa’s chimney?”

“Why would a clown?”

“Well, that’s the point,” she said, laughing at the ridiculous conversation. “None of it makes any sense!”

“Which makes it perfect to you and your brother. Merry Christmas to the Scrooge siblings.”

“Exactly!”

Liking that her good mood was back, he asked, “Hey, are you hungry? I’ve got frozen pizza, frozen bagels, frozen burgers… .”

“Typical single guy menu, huh?”

“Yep. Oh, if you want some wine, I think I have a box in the back of the fridge.”

She snickered.

“It was a housewarming gift from a neighbor.”

One pretty brow went up. “Oh? Not a basket of muffins?”

“Let’s just say my neighbor’s of the cat persuasion.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“The cougar variety.” Frankly whenever his neighbor came over, he felt like putting on another layer of clothes.

“Never mind,” he said, waving his hand. “So, why don’t you help yourself while I go get cleaned up.”

“You look clean to me.”

“Under these clothes is a layer of sawdust—I’m itchy all over. I need to take a shower.”

“Help yourself,” she said, waving a hand as she headed to the kitchen, already making herself at home. “Want me to make you something?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Filet mignon it is.”

He snorted. “Hungry Man Salisbury steak frozen dinner, if you’re lucky.”

Still smiling, glad her good mood had returned and thoughts of her vicious ex—who still had a lot of bad stuff coming to him—were gone, he headed for his room. The bed was unmade, clothes draped across it, the dresser drawers open. It looked like a single guy’s room. Considering he intended to offer Lucy the bed, and take the couch for himself, he took a few minutes to straighten up.

As he did so, he couldn’t help thinking about how much different his life seemed now than when he’d left this morning. He’d figured he’d be coming home to a quiet house, a solitary holiday, maybe a turkey sub from Subway. And he’d been okay with that. Not happy, but okay.

But he had to admit, in recent days, as the holiday season zoomed in like a rocket ship, he had really begun to think about his family back in Chicago. He had a few friends here, but not the type you’d share Christmas with. Being from a big family—which got bigger with every sister’s marriage and the births of new nieces and nephews—he began to realize there were times living alone wasn’t so great. As December marched on, he’d resigned himself to a lonely, kinda pathetic holiday weekend.

Wow, did things ever change on a dime.

Still thinking about those changes, he headed into the bathroom—spent another few minutes cleaning it—then got in the shower. He hadn’t been kidding about that sawdust; the stuff had filtered into his clothes as he’d maneuvered the custom-made bookcase into place at Beans & Books.

Finally, his hair damp from a quick towel-dry, he pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt and headed back out to the living room. Smelling something—popcorn?—his gaze immediately went to the kitchen, but didn’t see Lucy there.

After a second, he spotted her in the one place he had not expected her to be, doing something he had never expected her to do. “Lucy?”

She looked up and smiled at him, a little self-conscious. “I couldn’t take it anymore, it was just sad.”

Ross could only stare. It appeared she had gone all Linus on his Charlie Brown Christmas tree, and had decided to give it a little love—how appropriate for a Lucy. What had been just sticks, needles, picture-hangers and beer can tabs an hour ago now at least resembled a bedecked evergreen.

“Where did you…”

“I just used stuff that was lying around. Hope you don’t mind, but I cut up a couple of mac-and-cheese boxes…the packets are still in the cupboard. I assume you’ve made it often enough that you didn’t need the directions?”

“Not a problem,” he mumbled, still a little shocked at how much she’d done, how quickly she’d done it, and how good it looked.

“I’m glad you’re the healthy type and your microwave popcorn wasn’t buttered. That would have been sticky,” she said as she plucked another piece out of a bowl and stuck it on the edge of a needle. A whole thread full of them dangled on her lap. “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind me digging through your kitchen drawers. I was pleasantly surprised to find that sewing kit.”

“Old tenant,” he murmured, still a little stunned.

“Well, thanks to the former tenant then. Unfortunately he didn’t happen to leave any twinkle lights or pretty red bows behind. But luckily, I hadn’t cleaned out my camera bag,” she added. “I had picked up some construction paper, glitter and glue to make decorations for the studio where I’m interning.”

She’d used all those things to full advantage. Right now, glittery snowmen and Santa shapes dangled from several branches, apparently with directions for making mac-and-cheese on the other side. She had also managed a long strand of construction paper garland, like the kind he’d made as a kid. Red, green and white loops encircled each other, making a colorful chain that draped around the tree.

But that wasn’t all. His pot-pie pan-topper had actually been cut into a star shape. And there was some kind of red-and-white fabric tucked around the bucket, creating a tree skirt. Having no clue where she could have gotten that, he quirked a questioning brow.

She chuckled. “My elf tights. I had two pair in my bag.”

Good God. Tight, shimmery fabric, usually used to encase what he suspected were a pair of beautiful legs, was now hugging a dirty bucket at the base of an old, dead tree?

“I didn’t have any lights, obviously, but I think this’ll work. Hold on.”

He watched as she crawled around the baseboard and fiddled with something on the floor. Suddenly the tree was bathed in a soft, reddish light from below. “Glad I had the red gel on me!”

Not knowing what she meant, he bent to peer at the light, which he realized was a camera flash with a sheet of red plastic over it.

“Voilà!”

He reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet and together they stared at her masterpiece. She’d taken a pretty pathetic stick, added a bunch of random objects and Mac-Gyvered the whole thing into a work of art.

“Wow,” he whispered, genuinely impressed. “It’s amazing.”

She shrugged. “But it’s still not exactly traditional.”

He heard the tremor in her voice and knew where her thoughts had gone—to that dirty word, traditional. For four years, she’d tried hard to distance herself from happy holiday traditions, keeping those sweet memories at bay for fear they’d be accompanied by sad ones. Yet now, she’d stepped out of her comfort zone, doing things she probably remembered doing with the parents she’d lost, even though it was painful for her.

And she’d done it for him.

He turned to her, dropping his hands to her waist, pulling her close to him. Lucy looked up at him, her eyes bright, shining in the holiday light, and he’d swear he had never seen a more beautiful face in his life.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Then he punctuated the thanks by dropping his mouth to hers, kissing her softly.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her soft body against him. He’d kissed her earlier, but they’d both been wearing coats, and layers of clothes. Now, with just his T-shirt and her blouse, he was able to feel the fullness of her breasts against his chest. she moaned lightly, moving one leg so their thighs tangled.

As if needing to feel his skin, Lucy moved her hands under the bottom of his shirt, stroking his stomach. He pulled away enough for her to push it up and over his head, liking the way her eyes widened in appreciation as she began to explore his chest. She scraped the back of her finger over his nipple, and Ross hissed in response. This time, when he pulled her close to kiss her again, he could feel the rigid tips of her breasts, separated from his bare skin by only by that silky blouse.

Saying nothing, Lucy began to pull him with her, toward the couch. Rather than follow, he bent and picked her up. Cradling her in his arms, he crossed the room and sat down, keeping her on his lap. They never broke the kiss. It just went on and on, slow and deep and wet.

Unable to resist, Ross reached for her stomach, trailing his fingertips over the blouse, hearing her purr in response. She arched up to meet his touch, telling him she wanted more. He tugged the material free of her pants, almost shaking in anticipation, knowing he’d been dying to touch her since they’d met.

As he’d expected, Lucy’s body was silkier than her clothes. He took pure, visceral pleasure in the sensation, delighting in the textures against his callused hand.

“Oh, yes, more,” she whispered against his mouth.

Glad for the invitation, he began to slide the buttons open, exposing more of Her warm, supple skin. Lucy shifted a little, helping him tug the blouse free of her pants, so that by the time he unfastened the last button, the shirt fell open completely.

Ross stopped kissing her long enough to look at her, soaking in the breathtaking sight. Her breasts were high and round, every inch of her creamy smooth. Her lacy bra did nothing to conceal the tight, puckered nipples. And the way she arched up toward him told him what she needed.

He happily complied, covering one taut peak with his mouth, before tasting her with his tongue through the fabric.

She jerked, tangling her hands in his hair, pressing his head harder to her breast. Ross heard her tiny, raspy breaths, the little whimpers she couldn’t contain, and knew she was loving every bit of this.

So was he.

With care, he lowered one of her bra-straps, releasing her breast and catching it in his hand. Her tight nipples demanded more attention, and he licked and kissed her there, sucking deep until she was squirming on his lap.

That squirming drove him a little crazy. His cock was rock-hard beneath her sexy butt, and the way she slid up and down on him told him she knew it. It also told him she wanted to keep going.

Needing to feel her heat, to see if she was as tight and wet as he suspected she was, he unsnapped her pants and slid the zipper down. He was careful in his movements, intentionally scraping his hand against the skimpy yellow panties she wore beneath. Satin over silk.

She didn’t pull away, instead pushing against his hand, practically demanding that he touch her more thoroughly. As though he needed to be asked?

His mouth still on her breast, he could feel the raging beat of her heart and knew she was almost out of her mind with excitement. Breathing deeply to inhale that musky, feminine scent that practically drugged him into incoherence, he tugged the elastic away and moved his hand to the curls covering her sex. She whimpered, digging her nails lightly into his bare back. She was begging for more, though she didn’t say a word.

Needing more, too, he slipped his finger between the warm, soft lips of her sex, almost groaning at how slick and wet she was.

“Oh, God,” she cried, her eyes flying open. “Please, don’t stop.”

As if.

“Okay, time for the clothes to go,” he growled.

He helped her push the pants all the way down and off, and once she was naked in his lap, he had to just pause and visually drink her in. She was perfect, from head to foot, laid out in front of him like a feast. He didn’t know where to start, he just knew he already didn’t want it to end.

He reached down to the front of his jeans, unfastening them, wanting to get naked and pull her leg across his lap to straddle him. Sitting there, looking up at her while she rode him sounded like the perfect way to start this night.

“Ross?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Um…there’s something you probably should know.”

“Unless the house is on fire, there’s nothing I really need to hear right now,” he said as he unzipped and pushed the jeans down his hips. His body was already on fire, and as he pushed his shorts away, too, and his cock came into contact with her bare hip, he groaned.

She gasped. “Oh, my goodness.”

“Give me another five minutes and it will be both yours, and good,” he told her as he stopped to kiss her breast, and stroke that sweet, quivering spot between her thighs.

“Ross, uh, really, I need to tell you something.”

Hearing the quaver in her voice, and feeling the slight stiffness of her body, he finally shook off the haze of lust in his head. He lifted his mouth from her perfect breast and slid his hand into safer territory down on her thigh.

“What’s wrong?”

She lowered her head, eyeing him through a long strand of hair. Lucy’s cheeks were pink, like she was embarrassed. Well, hell, they’d known each other less than a day and now she was lying naked on his lap. But she wouldn’t be embarrassed for long, not once he showed her how much he wanted her.

“Um…I just wanted to say…”

She bit her lip, shook her head slightly. Which was when a thought—a shocking, crazy one—burst into his head. His whole body went stiff and he leaned back into the couch.

“Lucy, are you trying to tell me you’ve never done this before?”

A hesitation, then she slowly nodded. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Holy shit. She was naked in his arms, thrusting into his hand like she needed to come or die and she was a virgin?

Well, honestly, the needing to come or die made sense. Seriously, how many twenty-two-year-old virgins were out there? He’d certainly never met one. The beautiful, sexy woman had to be a seething mass of sexual frustration.

Something he could well appreciate right now.

“I mean, you said you and Jude had never…but, seriously, nobody else, either?”

“No. Never.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I guess right around the time most girls were giving it away in the backseats of their boyfriends’ cars, I was grieving and helping my brother figure out what to do about our parents’ business, their house, their lives. And ours. It just sort of…never happened.”

He nodded, understanding. She hadn’t been thrust into the role of sexual grown-up while in high school. She’d landed in the adult world through one brutal tragedy.

That, as much as the fact that he was not a ruthless bastard like Jude, was enough to make Ross find the strength to do what had to be done. Knowing he’d have blue balls tonight, he still cleared his throat and carefully pushed her off his lap.

“Okay. It’s all right, Lucy, I understand.”

She grabbed his arm before he could get off the couch and head toward the bathroom for an icy cold shower.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Reaching for his face, she cupped his cheeks in her hands and leaned close, her soft hair falling onto his bare shoulders. “I want you, Ross. I want you to be my first. Now. Tonight.”

LUCY HAD THOUGHT a lot about the moment when she’d finally have sex. She’d pictured it being with someone she knew, someone she’d dated for a long time, someone she trusted.

Well, one out of three wasn’t bad, right?

She didn’t know Ross that well. She’d never dated him.

But she trusted him. Oh, did she trust him.

Telling him the truth about herself hadn’t been easy, but she certainly wasn’t going to try to fake her way through her first time having sex. Not only was that unfair to herself, it was unfair to him. He deserved the chance to say, “Thanks but no thanks.” After all, some guys just didn’t seem to want to deal with the drama of it.

She would have predicted Ross wouldn’t be one of those guys.

She wouldn’t have predicted the incredibly tender, loving way he kissed her, then stood and took her by the hand to lead her to his bedroom. As if now that he knew the truth, the responsibility of it was weighing on him, and he didn’t want a quick lay on a couch. Like she deserved the whole package, big bed and all.

The walk to the bedroom seemed incredibly long. And while her whole body was still burning from the incredible way he’d touched her, she couldn’t deny a faint trepidation, the tiniest bit of self-consciousness.

After all, she was naked. He still wore jeans. And she’d just told him she was a virgin.

“It’s okay,” he told her when they’d reached his room, standing by his bed. He brushed her hair off her face, then touched her cheek. “It’s gonna be fine.”

She smiled. “Do you think I’m afraid?”

He eyed her, visibly unsure.

“I’m not scared, Ross. Maybe a little embarrassed about being so…exposed.”

He stepped back and looked at her naked body, shaking his head slowly and rubbing his jaw, as if he just didn’t know what to say. Then he said exactly the right thing. “If there’s any such thing as a perfect woman, Lucy Fleming, you’re her.”

She went soft and gooey inside, everywhere she wasn’t already soft and gooey. As she’d already suspected, she’d most definitely chosen well.

“Thank you.”

“So don’t be nervous, Luce, I won’t do anything to hurt you,” he added, tenderly cupping her cheek.

“I won’t. I swear to you, my only fear is that it won’t be as good as I’ve made it out to be in my head.”

A slow smile curled those handsome lips upward. He shook his head, then sunk his hands in her hair and dragged her close.

“It’ll be better. I guaran-damn-tee it.”

He pushed her down onto the bed, and set about proving it.

Lucy honestly hadn’t known sex could be both incredibly hot and amazingly tender. He kissed her deeply, slowly, like he wanted to memorize the taste of her mouth. And his hands did magical things to her, gliding across her breasts, offering her barely there caresses that left her a quivering pile of sensation.

But then, his control would slip a little. He’d groan as he nipped her breast, or shake when she reached out and brushed her fingertips against the soft head of his erection. Lucy wanted to do more, longed to explore his body, but he seemed determined to make this all totally and completely about her.

Which was wonderful…and incredibly arousing.

“Please,” she said on a sob when he again teased her clit with his fingers, giving her light touches that made her long for firmer ones. Her hips thrusting, Lucy was on the verge of going over the top, she knew that from her own explorations of her body. and she was dying for it.

As if knowing he’d teased her as much as he could before she smacked him, Ross murmured something sweet and unintelligible, then slid a finger inside her. She practically cooed; the unfamiliar invasion felt so good. He moved his thumb back to her clit and this time, there was no teasing. Just slow, deliberate caresses, with just the pressure she needed.

Her breaths grew choppy. Sighs turned into gasps when he slid another finger into her channel, using both to stretch and fill her, even while he continued stroking her clit.

Then it came, sweet, warm relief. She quivered as the orgasm rolled over her, amazed at how much stronger it was when shared. She cried out, let her body shake and stretch, then sagged back into the pillows.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

“So are you,” she said, absolutely meaning it. Ross’s body was delicious—so hard and muscular, all power and steel. When combined with the thoughtfulness, the boyish smile, the twinkle in his green eyes, he was an absolutely irresistible male package.

She smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I want you now.”

He didn’t ask if she was sure, as if knowing they were way past that. Reaching for a drawer in the bedside table, he took out a condom. Lucy caught her lip between her teeth, watching as he maneuvered the tight sheath over his thick, powerful erection. Seeing the rubber stretch to accommodate him, she felt the first thrills of nervousness. But they were immediately drowned out by utter excitement.

Just watching him sent even more heat to her sex and she had to drop her legs apart, the skin there was so engorged and sensitive. Ross looked down at her, masculine appreciation written all over his face, then moved between her thighs.

“Tell me if…”

“I will,” she said, cutting him off. Then she lifted her hips, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and staring up at him.

They didn’t kiss. They didn’t blink. They barely breathed.

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat when she felt his rigid warmth probing into her, nuzzling between her folds and into the slick opening of her body. He moved slowly, so carefully, so tenderly. Each bit of himself he gave her just made her hungry for more.

She arched her hips toward him, silently telling him to continue. Seeing the clenched muscles in his neck, the sweat on his brow, she knew he was hanging on tightly to his control.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Please, Ross, please fill me up.”

He bent to her, covered her lips with his and kissed her deeply. And with each stroke of his tongue, he pushed into her, filling her, inch by inch, until he was buried inside her.

There had been only the tiniest hint of pain; now there was just fullness. Thickness. A sense that she’d finally been made whole and didn’t ever want to go back to feeling empty again. Like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Definitely.”

She slid her legs tighter around his, holding him close. Ross began to pull out, then slowly thrust back in, setting an easy pace. She caught it, matched it, giving when he took, taking when he pulled back. It was, she realized, like dancing…one step he led, then she did. Only no dance move had ever felt so good, so sinfully delicious.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, picking up the pace.

She knew his control was slipping. Frankly she marveled that he’d been able to maintain it this long. Every molecule in her body was urging her to thrust and writhe, to just take in so much pleasure that she’d never remember what it was like to not feel it. She knew he had to be feeling the same.

The rhythm sped up a little, his thrusts deepening. Lucy met him stroke for stroke, clinging to his broad shoulders, sharing kiss after kiss. Reality had faded, there was nothing else except this feeling, this rightness. This perfect guy on this perfect night.

And then, the perfect moment. Warm delight spilled through her as she climaxed again, differently than she ever had before. It started deep inside and radiated out, a ripple widening into a wave.

Even as she savored the long, deep sensations, she heard Ross’s shallow breaths grow louder and felt him tense against her.

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered as he strained toward his own release.

His low cry and the deepest thrust of all signaled that he’d found it. He buried his face in her hair and continued to pump into her, as if every bit of him had been wrung dry.

Though she knew he had to be totally spent, he didn’t collapse on top of her. Instead, Ross rolled onto his side and tugged her with him. They were still joined, and she slid her thigh over his hip, liking the connection.

His eyes were closed, his lips parted as he drew in deep breaths. When he finally opened them, she didn’t even try to hide her smile.

“What?”

“I liked it.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad.”

“When can we do it again?”

His chuckle turned into a deep, masculine laugh. “Give me a half hour.”

She stuck out her lower lip in a pretend pout.

“Okay, okay,” he said, reaching down and stroking her hip. “Twenty minutes.”

“I guess I can live with that,” she said, with a teasing smile. She rubbed against him, stealing his warmth. The bedroom was cool, but She definitely hadn’t noticed it before. Ross gave off a lot of heat…whether he was right beside her or across the room.

She much preferred him right beside her.

They fell silent for a few moments, just touching each other, exchanging lazy kisses. She loved the way he kept a possessive hand on her, as if making sure she didn’t disappear on him.