doesn’t know the meaning of no. Who doesn’t understand how spiritual and valuable a loyal woman is. Anger swells inside me. I climb out of the water for a twenty-minute dip in the hot tub, a shower, then a drink at Farrah’s, a popular bar five minutes away.
I dress in shorts and a T-shirt, then slip into my tennis shoes. I grab my wallet and the keys to my new Harley-Davidson Softail Breakout. I haven’t had much riding time lately. I make it to the bottom of the stairs and find Karlie standing in the middle of the living room. She’s wearing a silky nightgown, her hair wet from the shower. She’s gorgeous without makeup. I try to keep my eyes where they belong, but it’s difficult. She’s unaware of the magnetic pull between us. Or on second thought, maybe she’s not. Perhaps that’s what scared her off.
“Lucas?”
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” I stay put on the landing, waiting for her to let me know it’s all right to approach. “I’m headed out right now. Need anything?”
She nods. “A hug.”
I wasn’t expecting that. But I don’t hesitate. She’s in my arms within a heartbeat, snuggling against my chest. She’s so petite, I’m afraid I’ll crush her. I sweep her up and carry her to the couch, sitting down with her on my lap. She smells like coconut oil. I take a deep breath, afraid to move. I don’t want this to end.
“I’m sorry.”
I tuck a stray curl behind her ear, looking down at her. “No apology necessary,” I half growl. “I’m the asshole.”
“You’re not,” she replies. “You’re a hero.”
She’s referring to my commendations again. I chuckle, happy to see her smiling. “Just doing my duty.” I don’t discuss my work much with anyone.
I want her. Hell, I need her. It’s been four months since I’ve felt the soft touch of a woman.
“Hold me?” she asks.
“In bed?”
She nods.
I grit my teeth, not wanting to disappoint or reject her. But . . . “Let me put on my tactical gear before we get too comfortable,” I tease, knowing full well body armor won’t keep me safe from the sensations her body elicits every time she’s close to me. “Are you sure that’s a wise choice?”
“Yes, Lucas,” she confirms. “I need to feel wanted right now.”
That’s all I needed to hear. I carry her upstairs, pull the comforter and sheets on my bed back, and gently deposit her in the middle of the mattress. I crawl behind her, tucking her into the curve of my body. Her heat envelops me, the scent of her long hair lulling me into much needed rest.
Chapter Eight
I shoot up, tangled in sheets. Where’s Karlie? What time is it? I check the alarm clock on the nightstand: six. In the morning? Shit. I’ve never slept for ten hours. Then I smell breakfast—bacon. I roll out of bed, still wearing my T-shirt and shorts from last night. Last thing I remember is rubbing Karlie’s back. I think she passed out pretty quick. I pad downstairs. It’s still too early for sunrise, but predawn light shadows the dining room.
The table is set and I take a closer look. Mushroom and cheese omelets, bacon, toast, and strawberries.
“Lucas?” She peeks around the corner.
“Good morning, Cat Cora.”
She gives me a strange look. “Who?”
“An internationally famous chef,” I explain.
She smiles. “Think we can keep the dishes on the table today?”
“Willing to try,” I say, checking the floor. The glass is gone. “You cleaned up?”
“I woke up at five. You were snoring away, so I came downstairs. Hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? I sit down, admiring the hot food, knowing I’m going to get hooked on her cooking. She places a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice in front of me only to disappear inside the kitchen again.
“Sleep well?” she asks.
“Like the dead.”
Then she joins me, taking the same seat next to me as last night. “Can I explain what happened?”
She doesn’t need to. I overstepped my boundaries. Enough said. “Don’t feel
I dress in shorts and a T-shirt, then slip into my tennis shoes. I grab my wallet and the keys to my new Harley-Davidson Softail Breakout. I haven’t had much riding time lately. I make it to the bottom of the stairs and find Karlie standing in the middle of the living room. She’s wearing a silky nightgown, her hair wet from the shower. She’s gorgeous without makeup. I try to keep my eyes where they belong, but it’s difficult. She’s unaware of the magnetic pull between us. Or on second thought, maybe she’s not. Perhaps that’s what scared her off.
“Lucas?”
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” I stay put on the landing, waiting for her to let me know it’s all right to approach. “I’m headed out right now. Need anything?”
She nods. “A hug.”
I wasn’t expecting that. But I don’t hesitate. She’s in my arms within a heartbeat, snuggling against my chest. She’s so petite, I’m afraid I’ll crush her. I sweep her up and carry her to the couch, sitting down with her on my lap. She smells like coconut oil. I take a deep breath, afraid to move. I don’t want this to end.
“I’m sorry.”
I tuck a stray curl behind her ear, looking down at her. “No apology necessary,” I half growl. “I’m the asshole.”
“You’re not,” she replies. “You’re a hero.”
She’s referring to my commendations again. I chuckle, happy to see her smiling. “Just doing my duty.” I don’t discuss my work much with anyone.
I want her. Hell, I need her. It’s been four months since I’ve felt the soft touch of a woman.
“Hold me?” she asks.
“In bed?”
She nods.
I grit my teeth, not wanting to disappoint or reject her. But . . . “Let me put on my tactical gear before we get too comfortable,” I tease, knowing full well body armor won’t keep me safe from the sensations her body elicits every time she’s close to me. “Are you sure that’s a wise choice?”
“Yes, Lucas,” she confirms. “I need to feel wanted right now.”
That’s all I needed to hear. I carry her upstairs, pull the comforter and sheets on my bed back, and gently deposit her in the middle of the mattress. I crawl behind her, tucking her into the curve of my body. Her heat envelops me, the scent of her long hair lulling me into much needed rest.
Chapter Eight
I shoot up, tangled in sheets. Where’s Karlie? What time is it? I check the alarm clock on the nightstand: six. In the morning? Shit. I’ve never slept for ten hours. Then I smell breakfast—bacon. I roll out of bed, still wearing my T-shirt and shorts from last night. Last thing I remember is rubbing Karlie’s back. I think she passed out pretty quick. I pad downstairs. It’s still too early for sunrise, but predawn light shadows the dining room.
The table is set and I take a closer look. Mushroom and cheese omelets, bacon, toast, and strawberries.
“Lucas?” She peeks around the corner.
“Good morning, Cat Cora.”
She gives me a strange look. “Who?”
“An internationally famous chef,” I explain.
She smiles. “Think we can keep the dishes on the table today?”
“Willing to try,” I say, checking the floor. The glass is gone. “You cleaned up?”
“I woke up at five. You were snoring away, so I came downstairs. Hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? I sit down, admiring the hot food, knowing I’m going to get hooked on her cooking. She places a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice in front of me only to disappear inside the kitchen again.
“Sleep well?” she asks.
“Like the dead.”
Then she joins me, taking the same seat next to me as last night. “Can I explain what happened?”
She doesn’t need to. I overstepped my boundaries. Enough said. “Don’t feel
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