The Love Series Complete Box Set (141 page)

His lips brush against mine and the kiss is tender and sweet—healing in every sense of the word. His warm tongue seeks out mine and he tastes like the wine we’ve been drinking, tinged with more than a little lust. Leaning his weight into me, he softly lowers me to the floor as he wraps a strong arm around my waist.

Propped up on one elbow, he combs his other hand through my hair, relaxing me despite my racing heart. As he lowers his face to mine, I watch him lick his bottom lip and it makes my breath hitch in my throat. The feel of his body pressing me into the floor as his lips seal over mine ignites a spark I thought was long gone. Grabbing onto his upper arm, I pull him closer to me—impossibly so. Our legs tangle together and the roughness of his dark jeans scratches against my legs deliciously.

His tongue licks into every dip and curve of my mouth and lips, like he’s trying to taste every last inch of me, seeking out every surface of my warm and willing mouth. When I lace my fingers through his soft hair, his chest rumbles in a sound that’s a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“God, Lucy . . . you’re so sweet, so beautiful.” He pulls back from me and stares into my eyes for a few long moments, stroking the flushed surface of my cheek as my fingers dance over his arms and chest.

“You’re pretty stunning too.” I cup his jaw then trace my pointer finger sensually down his neck to the opened collar of his shirt. Pressing my lips against the pulse beating wildly there causes him to growl yet again. His rigid hardness presses into my stomach and I lift my hips to rub against him, needing some kind of friction for the fire he’s started in my body.

Lust and passion take over, and before I realize it, I’ve got the top three buttons of his shirt opened, exposing the light dusting of hair that sweeps across his muscled chest. Planting lush kisses across his collarbone and back up his throat, he thrusts his hips into mine, finally conceding to whatever restraint he thought he needed to keep in place.

Evan glides his hand up my skirt, gripping my upper thigh. His hands are so strong, so deliberate, but also delicate and almost reverential when he touches me. “Your skin is so soft.” His rough grip relaxes as his fingers dance across the flesh of my thighs.

I can’t manage more than a breathless pant and a whispered, “More.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to be asked more than once. Removing his hand from my thigh—which leaves me bereft and cold in the wake of his touch—he unclasps the snap at the ruching on my dress and pulls the fabric to the side, leaving me completely exposed, save for my black lace bra and panties.

I feel his eyes roam ravenously over my body, before he gazes into mine. “Is this okay?” His seeking permission makes my insides tremble. “I don’t want to rush this.”

“No . . . please . . . now. Please touch me. I want this. Please don’t stop.” I’m not above begging and I’ve been waiting for this, this intimacy, this heated passion for far too long.

His fingers ghost over my flat stomach and out to the soft flare of my hip, and then dip into the waistband of my panties. A disappointed gasp comes of out my mouth when he moves his hand. “Shh, not yet. I just want to touch you, feel your skin under my fingers. I want to enjoy you.”

He drives me crazy, touching every inch of exposed skin, skimming along the lines of my bra, but never letting my breasts fall free despite the heaviness of their arousal. The confident way of his touch, the sure sound of his words—it all makes me feel like we’ve been here before, like this isn’t new for us, but in so many ways it is.

His lips work their magic following the same pattern his fingers just did. Before kissing the upper swell of my breast, he seeks permission, scanning my face for the slightest nod. The scratch of his stubble reddens my skin. Hot, sweet, wet licks glide along the lace of my bra before his tongue dips under the fabric. Dangerously close to the painfully erect tip, I nearly groan in pleasure, but I bite my lip instead.

His thumb skirts over my chewed-upon lip, pulling it from the grips of my teeth. “Let go, Lucy. Let me just take care of you,” he coaxes gently.

With painstaking precision, he works his way down the rest of my body, stomach, hips, and thighs—making an extra stop to run his nose oh-so closely to my panty line. He takes his time to rub and massage my calves and feet, settling back on his haunches to do so.

I lay there, boneless and completely immobile, the sounds coming out of my mouth just short of groaning. That’s when he settles his solid, jean-covered thigh in between mine. The pressure of his hard muscle creates a forceful and delicious pleasure that I haven’t felt in longer than I care to admit to. Shamelessly, I grind myself against him—and beg.

“Please, Evan. I need to . . . please let me . . .” Never having really developed a sexual openness, I can’t say the word, though “come” is on the tip of my tongue.

He stares at me longingly, cupping my cheek and then stroking his knuckles down the long expanse of my neck, before lightly strumming them over my lace-covered nipple. “Tell me what you need. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want
you.
I want you to make me lose control.” Arching my hips up and grinding against him again, I stare directly into his storm-grey eyes. “Now,” I say, on one last grind.

He mumbles, “Anything for you,” against my lips as he kneads my breast. I arch my back and he unclasps my bra with skill. When my breasts fall free, the warm air of the fire bathes over them, puckering the skin there.

“So beautiful,” he whispers as he nuzzles a hardened point with his nose before latching onto it. Pulling my nipple deep into his mouth, I cry out in pleasure, as I hold his head in place. While his mouth works its magic, his thumb and forefinger pull and twist the other nipple, building a beautiful ache between my legs.

His hands skim my waist, stopping at the thin string of my panties. Slipping his thumbs into the material, he pulls them down my hips, over my thighs and off me completely. I feel the roughness of his hands the entire time—a softly abrasive touch that brings me close to the edge of my sanity.

“My God, you’re gorgeous,” he chokes out as he devours me with his eyes.

“And you’re wearing too many clothes,” I somehow manage to joke through my lusty hunger. His shirt is already most of the way unbuttoned, so he makes quick work of the last few buttons and sheds it. On its own will, my hand immediately goes to his chest; the need to run my fingers across it is overwhelming.

I trace through his chest hair, following the darkening line that falls behind the waistband of his jeans, which hang low on his narrow hips. My hand goes to his side, to that deeply etched V of his abs. “I thought these were fictional. I’d only read about them in books up to this point.”

Shyly, he cants his head to the side as I stare unashamedly at his sculpted body. A few ragged scars mar his six-pack abs—the only imperfection on his otherwise perfect body. His hips jerk when he feels my fingers unsnap the clasp of his jeans. “Is the rest of you that perfect?” My words are coy but bolder than I thought they would be.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” he challenges and then wiggles so that his jeans slide down a little lower. He has to stand to take them off all the way, which is perfect for me. Standing completely naked before me, his beauty is mouthwatering. Everything about him is virile and alive, completely masculine and strong. He palms what I assume is a condom before sprawling out next to me.

Laying side by side, curled in each other’s arms, we explore one another with our mouths and hands. He toys with my breasts and nipples as my fingers travel dangerously close to his erection.

“Fuck. If you don’t touch me soon, I’m going to lose it,” he rasps out in a gravelly voice that transforms into a low groan as I wrap my fingers around him. Shoving his full length into my palm, he loses himself to the slow, rhythmic motion. When my thumb passes over the wide crown, spreading the moisture there, he grits out a loud, “Fuck,” before his mouth crashes into mine.

His hand falls to my sex, tracing through the swollen flesh. “I need to touch you,” he mumbles before his finger plunges inside of me. “God, you’re so hot . . . so wet . . . so fucking tight.”

I think I try to speak, but all I can manage is some mumbled combination of groans and moans. When he adds another finger, massaging and readying me, I can barely contain my pleasure. “You, please. I want you.”

He rips the condom opened with his teeth and rolls it over his length, before settling between my spread legs. Sliding his arms under my shoulders, he holds me close to him as he nudges at my entrance. “It’s been so long . . . too long.” I angle my hips up and add, “But I want you so much.”

“I want you too, baby. No more waiting for either of us,” he whispers against my lips as he gently slides into me. It’s a beautifully slick and delicious friction, feeling every rock-hard inch of his length slide into me.

Evan swipes away tears I hadn’t even realized I’d shed as he props himself up on his elbows at either side of my head. “Are you okay, baby?” he asks when he’s completely inside of me.

My palm scrapes against his stubble and my fingers lace into his hair, pulling his lips to mine. “I’m perfect, absolutely perfect,” I reassure him before attacking his lips with my own.

He moves with deliberate slowness, pulling all the way out before sinking back in. As his motion picks up in speed and intensity, he grips my thigh and throws my leg up, hitching it over his hip. The change in the angle hits that sweet spot deep inside. I feel so full that I’m sure my eyes are rolling back in my head.

Through my haze of desire, I feel him shift slightly, wetting the pad of his thumb with his luscious tongue. When he presses it against the throbbing tip of my clit, fireworks ignite in my belly. “Evan . . . oh . . . I can’t . . .”

His thumb moves in alternating patterns of slow circles and rapid flicks. “Yes you can and I’ll take you there. Let go. Let go for me, sweetness.”

As if his words ease away the last vestiges of my control, I come wildly and more passionately than I ever have in my life. “Shit, Lucy. I can feel you. I’m not going to last much longer.” His neck and shoulders are tense and bulging as he tries to draw out our pleasure.

“You let go too, Evan. Let go with me.” On one last, long, hard plunge deep inside, he grinds out his orgasm against my pulsing sex, pushing me over the edge once again.

Completely sated and unable to move at all, I feel him pull out of me and I immediately mourn the loss of his fullness. He ties the condom in a knot before wrapping it in a napkin from dinner.

Spooning up behind me, he drapes a blanket over both of us and nibbles on my shoulder as he pulls a cushion under our heads. Lost in the comfort of one another, the only sound, save the crackling fire, is our calming breaths.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I realize, Evan is carrying me, wrapped in the blanket, upstairs to my bed. I wake in his arms and he smiles down at me, placing a soft kiss to my temple.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers as he tucks me under the blankets.

I stare completely confused as he turns to walk away. “You’re not leaving are you?” Screw sounding needy. I want him to stay the night.

He comes back to me, sitting on the edge of the bed. Pushing my hair back behind my ear, he shakes his head. “Not a chance on Earth I’m not sleeping next to you tonight.” Relief washes over me. As his lips press against mine, any lingering concern I had over what happened is gone.

“I just want to lock the door and make sure that the fire is out. I’ll be right back up, sweetness.” He pulls the blanket up to my chin and kisses my forehead before returning to the living room.

A Cheshire cat-like grin spreads wide across my face when he returns a few minutes later. “Happy to see me, huh?” he smirks as I cuddle up next to him.

“More than you know.” I throw my leg over his and pull him closer to me.

“You’re going to have to give me until the morning at least.” He playfully nudges his body into mine.

“I can live with that.” A comfortable silence fills the room as the stars twinkle up in the night sky. “Oh and Evan,” I add just as I start to feel myself drift to sleep.

“Yes, love.” The term of endearment makes my heart swell—especially considering the ease with which is rolled off his tongue.

“For the record, that was the best date ever.” His chest rumbles in laughter beneath my hand.

Chapter Fifteen

March 8, 2013

As winter begins to fade, I find myself taking my morning runs outside rather than staring blankly at the wall in front of my treadmill. The hustle and bustle that made Manhattan pulse with a life all its own, the beat I thought would always be a part of my soul, is slowly starting to be replaced with the quiet serenity of nature only seclusion can afford. It’s in those hours of solitude, where I find a pace in the pounding of my feet on the pavement, that I’ve finally been able to clear my head.

Watching the sun glimmer between the mountain peaks in the distance, I find myself noticing beauty in a world I was certain would always be an ugly place. I know that Lucy’s played a part in that discovery as well. Even through the deep breaths of my fifth mile, just the thought of Lucy makes me smile.