Page 92 of Lucas
“Say yes,” he rasps, his whisper ghosting over my lips.
A desperate exhale escapes me. “Yes.”
His lips brush against mine, teasing, tasting. The barest whisper of a touch, and yet it ignites a firestorm low in my belly. His hard length presses into my softness as he rocks his hips, letting me know just how much he wants me. Each delicious grind sends sparks skittering under my skin, my heartbeat ratcheting up to a feverish gallop.
“Should we take this back to the house?” his husky whisper ghosts over my tingling flesh, raising goosebumps in its wake. “To a bed?”
I shake my head, fingers clutching at his broad shoulders. “No. Here. Now.”
The thought of waiting even a second longer is unbearable.I need all of him against me, over me, surrounding me. Consuming me.
“Here?” His eyes flare with matching hunger. In a blink, he has his backpack unzipped and is shaking out a soft picnic blanket to spread across the lush grass.
Anticipation hums through my veins, every nerve ending sparking to life as I watch him. My tongue darts out to moisten my dry lips. Holy hell, this is really happening.
I’m excited.
And scared.
And aroused.
“Having second thoughts?” he asks, grasping my hand. “We don’t have to.” That vulnerable look crosses his face again.
That rare glimpse of vulnerability makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. Since when does arrogant, cocky Lucas worry about pressuring me? Since when does he look at me with such open tenderness?
Since you started seeing the man beneath the ruthless business manager mask, a traitorous voice whispers.Since you started wanting more from him than a fake marriage and a few orgasms.
“I’m not having second thoughts,” I assure him, my voice coming out breathier than I intend. “I want this. I want you.”
Something fierce and possessive flares in his eyes as he tugs me flush against his hulking frame. The heat of him sears me even through our clothes, his heart thundering against my breast. “Then you have me.”
In the next moment, his mouth is on mine, devouring, conquering, sending any lingering reservations up in flames. I moan into the kiss, parting my lips in eager invitation. Hewastes no time deepening the contact, his wicked tongue delving past my teeth to stroke and caress. Desire surges through me, hot and heady, as he maps every inch of my mouth like he’s committing it to memory.
Large hands skim down my back to grip my hips as he walks us backward, never breaking the kiss. I cling to his biceps when he lowers us to the blanket and settles his full weight over me. The delicious pressure sends need skittering down my spine to throb between my thighs.
His lips blaze a trail across my jaw, down the column of my neck, teeth scraping at my fluttering pulse.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he rasps against my skin, the coarse stubble of his jaw creating exquisite friction. “I could feast on you for hours and never get enough.”
I wind my fingers through his silky hair and hold him to me, arching to give him better access. He takes the unspoken invitation, moving lower to nuzzle the sensitive skin above my collarbone.
Each open-mouthed kiss sends liquid lightning zinging to my core, and I’m panting by the time clever fingers slip beneath the hem of my tank top, pushing the flimsy barrier up to bare my lower ribcage. My stomach hollows as he splays a hot palm over the quivering surface, his touch at once soothing and inflaming.
“So soft,” he murmurs, trailing fleeting caresses over every inch of exposed skin. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on you like this.”
“Then touch me,” I breathe, emboldened by the raw need in his confession. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and guide his hand higher to cup my breast through the thin sports bra. “I’myours.”
A growl rumbles through his chest as he complies, kneading the sensitive mound, his thumb grazing my pebbled nipple through the stretchy fabric. Pleasure rolls through me, my back bowing off the blanket seeking more of that decadent friction. More of him.
“That’s it, baby,” he coaxes, pinching the straining peak between his fingers until I gasp. “Let me hear you. I want to learn all the sounds you make.”
Uncaring how I sound, I let the breathy moans spill from my lips as he continues his sweet torment, desire turning my blood to molten lava. My hips writhe against his, seeking pressure where I’m throbbing and empty.
“Lucas, please...”
Shushing me with a searing kiss, he tugs the strap of my bra down my shoulder, baring one flushed breast to his hungry eyes. My shyness evaporates under the heat of his appreciative groan, my skin prickling with goosebumps.
“Perfect,” he breathes. “So fucking perfect.”
