Page 80 of Books and Hookups

“Yeah.” I took her hand and followed her to her bedroom like I was actually a porno handyman.

It was cooler in here, and I took a moment to savor the sensation of sweat drying on my skin. The anticipation of touching Lucie’s skin, of folding her into my arms, of hearing her heart beat.

Then I heard rustling.

I opened my eyes to find her picking up clothing off the comforter and tossing it into a suitcase on the bed.

“You’re packing?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a trip tomorrow.” She bent to pick up the suitcase.

“Let me.” I lifted it from the bed and set it on the floor. “But you can’t go on a trip tomorrow. You’re practically eight months pregnant. Will they even let you on a plane?”

“Of course they will. I can fly up to a month before my due date.”

“Which is insix weeks,”I said.

“Exactly.” She lifted a pile of clothes and tossed them into the suitcase.

“But should you? What if you have a complication like…” I searched my brain for the title of one of the pamphlets in her doctor’s office. “Gestational diabetes? Or preeclampsia?”

“Then I’ll deal with it. There are hospitals in DC too.”

“DC?” My jaw clenched. “You’re going to the East Coast? That’s, like, an eight-hour flight! You can’t sit on a plane that long. You’ll get blood clots.”

She stepped closer to me and put a hand on my chest. “It’s only five hours. And I’ll get up at least once an hour and walk around. Now, where were we?” She trailed her hand lower.

I took a giant step back and bumped into her dresser. “You can’t go. Your boss can’t make you.”

Frowning, she put her hands on her hips. “Yes, I can. And it’s not for my boss. I have an opportunity to do an interview with a subject for my book.”

I didn’t want to stand in the way of her research. Writing that book was her dream. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“You’ll go…with me?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Sure. I’ll take a few days off. I’ll carry your bag. Make sure you’re hydrated.” So what if I’d never been on a plane before. Or been farther from home than Vegas. How hard could it be? “You’ll need help.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes blazed. “I donotneed help. I especially don’t need it from someone who won’t get paid to do a job he can’t work when he’s in a different state.”

My head snapped back. “You won’t accept my help because I’m paid hourly?”

“No, goddammit.” Her voice rose. “I won’t accept your help because I don’t fucking need help!”

“Christ, Lucie, everyone needs help!” My voice strained from the effort it took not to yell at her. Everything in the room had a red haze to it except for her. She blazed bright like a floodlight.

I don’t know which of us moved first, but the next thing I knew, I had my hands on her and I was kissing her. Maybekisswas too nice a word for it. Our mouths pressed together, our teeth clacked, and our tongues wrestled like a pair of beefy guys in spandex trunks and kneepads.

My brain couldn’t have been more fried if Lucie had hit me over the head with a folding chair. Nothing rational was left, only the gaping wound she’d left when she’d said I wasn’t worthy of helping her and the blinding need to prove I could take care of her in every way she needed.

She yanked down my shorts and underwear, and I hissed when her cool hand squeezed my hot, angry dick. I was too close to the edge, but there was no way I was going off in her hand. I broke the kiss. “No. Hands up here.” I put her hands on my shoulders.

“Like this?” She twirled her fingers in my hair and gave a vicious yank that made my scalp erupt in pain. My dick jumped.

“Yeah,” I grunted. I rucked up her skirt. Not bothering to pull off her panties, I tugged the crotch aside and buried my fingers in her wet heat, tracing her swollen lips.

She gasped and bit my shoulder.

“Ow!” But some ancient part of me flickered to life like a flame igniting from embers. I shoved two fingers inside her and flicked her clit with my thumb.

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