The hunger in his eyes puckered her n**ples and tightened her internal muscles. He cupped her breast, thumbed the tip until she gasped and then he bent to take the opposite one into his mouth. The hot, wet swirl of his tongue combined with the magic of his touch made her back bow and her belly contract. And then he tugged with his lips, his teeth and his fingers. A whimper of want escaped her mouth. His caresses robbed her breath, her sanity and her agenda.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man’s touch had felt this good. A molten sensation invaded her muscles. She tunneled her fingers into his hair and held him, silently pleading for more. But he abandoned her br**sts.
His lips traveled lower. He nuzzled the sensitive under-sides before drifting with featherlight whispers across her ribs and then toward her navel. The haze of hunger morphed into a clear chill of tension when she realized where he was headed. She fisted her fingers in his hair and tugged. When that didn’t work she dug her heels into the mattress and tried to twist away, but he easily pinned her down.
“Lucas, don’t.”
“We all have scars, Nadia. Some show. Some don’t.” His tongue swept down the length of the rippled flesh from her navel to her panties and then back up again to swirl in her belly button.
The move should have repelled her. She hated that scar. Hated what it represented. She never let anyone touch it. Instead, her breath hitched and strangely, she couldn’t seem to gather the strength to shove him off. And then he pressed his mouth to her lacy bikinis and his breath steamed right through the thin fabric exactly where she needed his touch the most.
Thoughts of pushing him away vanished under the onslaught of prurience. She quit struggling and savored the sensation of his chin circling over her flesh with the perfect amount of pressure, the perfect tempo. His fingers edged beneath her elastic leg band at her hip and drifted down toward her center, then away and back again. She groaned and squirmed. He delved deeper, finding her moisture and massaging it in with exquisite thoroughness.
She climbed swiftly. She wanted to whisper words of encouragement, but she couldn’t seem to string the phrases together to make her request. All she could do was clutch his hair, the sheets, lift her h*ps toward his mouth. Release gathered. He eased away from her seconds before she went over the edge. And then he did it again, and again, caressing, arousing and retreating until she thought she’d scream.
“Lucas, please.”
He planted a lingering kiss on her hipbone then rolled away and opened a drawer. While he donned the condom she shimmied out of her panties and then lay back, propped on her elbows with one knee bent in what she hoped he’d find an irresistible, inviting pose.
He returned to her, but instead of moving over her and giving her the sexual oblivion she needed, he skimmed her curves with his fingertips, circling each nipple, outlining her waist, her navel and her triangle of curls. Aching and growing more desperate by the second from his teasing sensuality, she writhed beneath him and tried to rise, planning to drag him back down with her. Lucas planted two fingers on her breast-bone and pushed her back down gently, but firmly. The commanding look in his eyes warned her not to argue.
A thrill shot through her. She wasn’t used to this man who wouldn’t be led or coerced.
Without breaking eye contact he leaned over and kissed her bent knee, then the inside of her thigh. His lips lifted and touched down, each time landing closer to her center, each time making her gasp with a lick or a nip or the rasp of his chin. The prickle of his evening beard on her tender skin excited her unbearably. Her breathing shallowed, quickened, until she was nearly panting. And he knew it. He knew because he watched and noted every hiccup of breath, every quiver, every time she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.
As if they’d been together like this just yesterday instead of more than a decade ago, he found her pleasure points with unerring accuracy. His tongue flicked over exactly the right spot and orgasm crashed over her with shocking speed. Her eyes slammed shut. His name poured from her lips and her body jerked as her muscles clenched and released over and over.
When the last erotic spasm died he rose to his hands and knees and prowled up her body until he poised above her, his eyes dark with passion and intent. His elbows bent. He took her mouth in a kiss so carnal, so hot and wet and decadent and delicious she could only cling to him. Their tongues tangled and dueled. Their lips alternated between butterfly soft and branding hot. She couldn’t get enough of him, of this new version of him.
His fingertips found her entrance, stroked, readied her, and then his blunt tip took their place. She held her breath and waited for him to fill her. And then he did. Languorously. She dug her nails into his buttocks and urged him to hurry, but he wouldn’t be rushed. Each long, slow glide in and out filled her with an impatient craving for more.
She lifted her hips, meeting each thrust, and when he released her mouth to suck a sharp breath, she watched his eyes darken as hunger gave them a common goal. She arched upward to nip his shoulder, his neck. His scent filled her nostrils; the slightly salty taste of him pervaded her mouth and his deep thrusts filled her body. Her palms skimmed his back, his buttocks, his waist and chest. The scrape of her nails on his neck made him shudder against her.
She relished the crack in his control. And yet he still didn’t speak. The Lucas of her past had been verbal. He’d told her how good she tasted, how good she felt, how hot she made him and how much he loved her. Especially the last one. And she’d been so hungry for those words. Yet despite his silence, his eyes said it all.
For the first time in forever she could feel every sensitized inch of her skin, particularly the parts melding to the heat of his or abraded by the coarse hair on his legs. She felt alive and wanted and desirable and womanly instead of flawed. She banished the sobering thought and focused on the stroke of his hand where they were joined and relished the depth of his penetration.
He filled her, surrounded her, energized her. Her cli**x built anew, tightening her muscles, stealing her breath, muddling her thoughts. And then it hit. Hard. Fast. Consuming her completely. Sapped, she lay enervated beneath him, so weakened her hands could barely cling to his waist.
His thrusts deepened, quickened and then his groan of completion filled her ears as he shuddered above her. Seconds later muscles went lax and his weight settled on her.
He braced himself above her so that he didn’t crush her, but with each of their gasped breaths her br**sts kissed his chest.
Making love with Lucas hadn’t remotely resembled the mindless sex she’d used in the past to help her forget. No. Making love with him felt good and right.
But was it a mistake?
Did she dare give him a second chance to turn her world upside down?
Eight
T oo good.
Are you nuts, man? How in the hell can anyone complain about sex being too good?
Lucas rolled away from Nadia, needing to put both mental and physical distance between them. He had an agenda and he had to stick to it. He couldn’t allow making love with Nadia to cloud the issue.
He retreated to the bathroom, disposed of the condom and splashed cold water on his face. He had what he wanted. His wife in his bed. Trusting him. Open to him. A little more persuasion and she’d answer whatever questions he asked, enabling him to get an insider’s view on KCL’s weaknesses and plan the best attack route.
But getting lost in Nadia’s scent, the softness of her skin, the wet heat of her body and her brain-twisting kisses didn’t feel like work. It felt good. Too damned good.
No such thing.
Get your head back in the game.
He pushed away from the vanity, pulled on his robe and returned to the bedroom. Nadia, wearing his shirt, sat with her back against the center of the headboard, her long, gorgeous legs bent, ankles tucked beneath her. Her gaze followed him as he crossed to the dresser and retrieved the tray holding the cake and chilling champagne. He joined her on the bed, placing the tray on the mattress between them.
He filled the champagne flutes and offered her one. “Ready for dessert? Sex always gave you an appetite.”
She fumbled the glass, nearly dropping it, and averted her face. Was she blushing? Had he ever seen Nadia blush? No. She’d always been bold and aggressive, sure of what she wanted and her entitlement to it. Her take-no-prisoners attitude had been a real turn-on.
But so was this unexpectedly shy side.
“I guess some things never change.” Her eyes didn’t quite meet his as she picked up a fork, cut into the lava cake and put the small wedge into her mouth.
A crumb clung to her bottom lip. He stifled the urge to lap it up and ate a forkful of the moist chocolaty confection. The rich flavor filled his mouth, erasing what was left of Nadia’s taste he noted with a disgustingly sappy hint of regret. He washed it down with a gulp of champagne.
She looked up at him through her lashes. “Why did you take the money, Lucas?”
He sucked in a sharp breath and almost choked on the bubbly beverage. What the hell. What would it hurt to tell her?
“Because I was afraid I’d be a burden to my family. Your father made sure I knew exactly how much debt I was racking up with each day I stayed in the hospital. I was looking at months more of hospital time plus the surgeries. I knew I couldn’t afford any of it since I lost my health insurance when your father fired me and the policy from my new job hadn’t kicked in yet. But staying for treatment was my only chance to ever walk again.
“My mother and I were barely making ends meet with our combined salaries, and it looked like I’d be unable to work for a long time. Your father’s bribe guaranteed we’d keep a roof over our heads and that my sisters would get a good education—something I was no longer sure I could provide.”
Nadia’s breath shuddered in and then out. Understanding softened her eyes and mouth. “I should have known you weren’t thinking of yourself. You always put your family first. Your girls, you called them.”
For a brief few months she’d been one of his “girls,” and she’d always beamed when he’d told her that.
“Your brothers would do the same for you.” A point in Rand and Mitch’s favor.
“Yes. They would. That’s why I can’t let them down this time. There’s too much at stake. I have to get it right.”
He topped off her glass and then nodded toward her middle. “What happened, Nadia?”
Her sudden stillness told him she knew what he meant. She toyed with the dessert, cut a wedge and mashed it between the tines of her fork, but she didn’t eat it. The silence stretched so long he didn’t think she’d answer.
“I lost our son and the ability to have other children. They had to take my uterus to stop the bleeding.”
Their son. He’d often wondered.
The ache in his chest ambushed him from out of nowhere. Grief? Too late for that. He never wasted energy or emotion on anything he couldn’t change.
Before the wedding he and Nadia had discussed having children. A lot of them. They’d both wanted a large family. Nadia had wanted their kids to be close in age so they’d have each other as playmates—something she hadn’t had with her brothers who’d been four and six years older. It had been the same for him with Sandi and Terri. Their gender and age differences had kept them from being close.