Page 39 of One More Time
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUCY
In the elevator, there was no subtlety in Nicky’s lips as they crashed on Lucy’s. There was only determination and pure, overwhelming lust. It came over her like a fever, hot and immutable. She was powerless to it. To him.
Lucy grabbed at his T-shirt. At his tattooed arms. Her hand found its way to his scalp and he groaned.
The elevator doors opened to the penthouse floor and they tripped out into the hall, a tangle of limbs and lips.
‘Yours? Mine?’ Nicky mumbled into Lucy’s neck. Then pulled away, with a cringe. ‘Neither?’
‘Mine,’ she purred.
Nicky threaded his fingers through hers and guided her down the corridor with determined steps. When they reached Lucy’s door, Nicky reached into her back pocket. He only lingered for an extra second or two on the swell of her ass, before pulling her keycard out and slapping it to the lock.
Thank goodness Chloe was out with her friends. Lucy had answered ‘mine’ before giving the logistics of the thing a second thought. She’d been bamboozled by the sudden ache for Nicky.
Lucy guided Nicky past the kitchen and through the living room of the suite. To the left. To her bedroom. To the extra-large bed that looked in that moment like it could easily host the entire cast of Cirque du Soleil on its acres of fluffy white blankets.
Lucy stepped out of her Chucks as Nicky fell back on the bed, flicking his own sneakers off from the heels and sending them flying across the room.
She laughed at the sheer glee written all over his face and the way he called her over by waving his arms, like she wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking.
She plopped down next to him, and he immediately threaded his hand through her hair, gripping the back of her neck. He sidled up closer. Kissed her slowly. As though he truly were taking his time. And Lucy kissed him back with an equally languid ease, but only because his mouth was a thing of enthralling and consuming beauty and she could linger there indefinitely.
His hand slid under the hem of her T-shirt. Strong, callused fingers made a path across Lucy’s stomach, then gripped the curve at her waist before splaying across her back.
It felt like he was holding on, keeping her close.
Something about it made Lucy bristle, want to push away. It was irrational; she knew this. Still, she nudged himgently to his back and straddled him, saying a little prayer of thanks to a couple of years of yoga and Pilates.
She pushed his shirt up and helped him wrestle it over his head. There, she found more ink. Everywhere. A riot of color and image that was too much to take in at once. An amazingly detailed scene of evergreen trees with mountains in the background gave way to the bear from California’s state flag. She spotted a fine line tribute to the angel on the cover of Nirvana’sIn Utero, but the angel’s upturned hands weren’t empty. One held a human heart, the other a flame. She felt over his tattoos with her fingertips as though she might be able to divine their meaning by touch.
‘Jesus!’ she exclaimed suddenly.
‘What? The ink?’ he asked, frantically looking down at his own stomach.
‘No, the abs,’ Lucy huffed. ‘You have an actual six-pack.’
He smiled. ‘Nah, more like four. At best.’
‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I am a college professor. I can count to …’ She touched each ripple with her finger. ‘One, two, three, four,five,six.’
‘America’s youth is in good hands, professor,’ he teased. Then added, ‘I do crunches when I can’t sleep.’
‘Well, insomnia is really working for you.’
‘Thanks, I think.’
Nicky tugged at the hem of Lucy’s shirt. She stopped him with a hand on his.
‘Fair warning,’ she said. ‘I eat Cheetos when I can’t sleep, so there’s only one ab under here.’
Nicky chuckled. ‘I don’t care what you have under there. Whatever it is, I want it.’
She hoped that was true, because she wasn’t eighteen anymore and didn’t have the money required to try to be. Lucy had never been particularly self-conscious about her body and she wasn’t exactly out of shape for a forty-something woman who spent all day in a desk chair. But also … time. And … gravity.
Lucy pulled her shirt over her head in one smooth movement, then unclipped her bra, tossing both over her head.
