Chapter Lucas #2
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.” I pull her to her feet, tugging her close until we’re chest to chest. “Maybe something like ‘yes, Lucas, I’ve been dreaming about you for weeks and I can’t wait another second’?”
She laughs, and the sound loosens something in my chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously handsome? Ridiculously charming?”
“Ridiculously full of yourself.”
“That too.” I dip my head, brush my lips against her ear. “But you like it.”
“Maybe.” Her voice has gone breathy. “A little.”
“Then let me show you what else you might like.” I pull back, meet her eyes. “If you want.”
“I want.” She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and sweet. “I really, really want.”
I grin against her mouth. “Then let’s go.”
The cottage has one small bedroom. Just big enough for a double bed, a dresser, and a window that looks out over the mountains. The last of the sunset is painting everything gold and pink.
I close the door behind us, and the click of the latch sounds very loud in the quiet.
Cara stands in the middle of the room, wearing Theo’s clothes, her scent filling the small space. She’s nervous—I can see it in the slight tremor in her hands, the way she’s holding herself like she’s not sure what comes next.
My brain does this. Notices everything. Catalogs details. It’s useful in the clinic. Less useful when I’m trying to be romantic.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I say. “If you’re not ready. We can just cuddle. I just want to be close to you.”
“Lucas.” She turns to face me, and her expression makes my chest ache. “I’ve had ten years. I don’t need more time.”
“What do you need?”
“You.” She closes the distance between us, stops with her palms flat against my chest. I can feel my own heartbeat accelerating under her touch. “I need you.”
I cup her face in my hands. Study her the way I can’t seem to stop myself from doing—the flush spreading down her neck, the dilation of her pupils, the way her lips part slightly when I run my thumb across her cheekbone.
“You’re analyzing me,” she says.
“I’m always analyzing you. Can’t turn it off.” I tilt her chin up. “Your pupils are dilated. Your pulse is elevated. You’re exhibiting signs of significant arousal.”
She laughs, and the sound loosens something in my chest. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“It’s an observation.” I brush my lips against hers, barely a kiss. “My professional opinion is that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and I have no idea how to be normal about it.”
“I don’t want normal.” She fists her hands in my shirt, pulls me closer. “I want you.”
I stop thinking.
I kiss her—really kiss her—and ten years of careful control goes up in smoke. She tastes like wine and want and everything I’ve been denying myself. I back her toward the bed, hands sliding under Theo’s oversized shirt to find warm skin, the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine.
She yanks at my shirt and I break the kiss long enough to pull it over my head. Her hands are on me immediately, mapping my chest, my shoulders, dragging through the hair below my navel. I shudder at the contact.
“Off,” I manage, tugging at her shirt. “I need this off.”
She raises her arms and I strip it away. No bra underneath—just her, bare and beautiful, and I have to pause. Have to look.
“You’re staring again,” she whispers.
“I’m memorizing.” I trace the curve of her breast with one finger, watching goosebumps rise in its wake. “For later.”
“Later?”
“Mmhmm.” I palm her breast, feel her nipple harden against my hand. “A man needs material, Cara.”
She laughs, bright and surprised. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re gorgeous.” I dip my head, press a kiss to her collarbone. “And I’m taking a mental picture. Deal with it.”
She pulls me down onto the bed, and we’re a tangle of limbs and mouths and searching hands. I kiss her neck, her collarbone, the soft swell of her breasts. She arches into me, gasping, her nails raking down my back.
“Pants,” she demands. “We’re both wearing too many pants.”
I laugh against her skin—actually laugh, which isn’t something I do often—and roll off her long enough to strip. She shimmies out of the sweatpants, kicks them off the edge of the bed, and then we’re both naked and I can finally, finally feel all of her against all of me.
She’s so warm. Soft in all the places I’m hard, slick where she presses against my thigh. I groan at the sensation, at the scent of her arousal filling my lungs.
“I want—” She pushes at my shoulder, and I let her roll me onto my back. “I want to be on top. Is that okay?”
“Cara.” I settle my hands on her hips as she straddles me. “You can have anything you want. Everything you want. Just tell me.”
She positions herself over me, and I can feel the wet heat of her against my cock. It takes every ounce of discipline I have not to thrust up into her.
“I want this.” She reaches down, wraps her hand around me, and I stop breathing. “I want you inside me.”
“Then take me.”
She sinks down slowly. Inch by inch, letting her body adjust, and I watch her face—the way her lips part, the flutter of her lashes, the small furrow between her brows as she stretches to accommodate me.
“Okay?” My voice comes out strained. She’s tight. So tight and hot and slick, and my knot is already starting to swell at the base.
“More than okay.” She bottoms out, takes me to the hilt, and we both groan. “God, Lucas. You feel—”
“I know.” I flex my hips, just slightly, and she gasps. “I know exactly how it feels. I’ve imagined this approximately ten thousand times.”
“Only ten thousand?”
“Conservative estimate.”
She laughs, breathless and bright, and starts to move.
I let her set the pace. Let her find what feels good, rolling her hips in slow circles, rising and falling in a rhythm that makes my vision blur at the edges. My hands stay anchored on her hips, thumbs tracing circles against her hip bones, but I don’t push. Don’t take over.
This is hers. She’s in control.
“You’re holding back,” she says, breathless. “I can tell.”
“I’m letting you—”
“I don’t want you to let me.” She plants her hands on my chest, leans down until her lips brush my ear. “I want you to fuck me, Lucas. Stop thinking and just feel.”
Something snaps.
I flip us in one smooth motion, pinning her beneath me. She gasps—surprise, not fear—and I hitch her thigh over my hip and thrust deep.
“Better?” I grit out.
“Yes—god—yes—”
I stop holding back.
I drive into her, hard and fast, and she meets every thrust with a roll of her hips. The headboard knocks against the wall. The bed creaks beneath us. I don’t care. Can’t care. Not when she’s making those sounds, not when she’s clenching around me like she never wants to let go.
“Lucas—” Her nails dig into my shoulders. “I’m close—I’m so close—”
“I know.” I can feel it—the way she’s tightening, the hitch in her breathing, the flush spreading down her chest. “I’ve got you. Let go.”
“I need—”
I slide my hand between us, find her clit, press down with my thumb. She shatters.
Her whole body locks up, her pussy clenching around me in rhythmic waves, and she cries out my name—loud enough that Theo definitely heard, loud enough that I feel it in my bones.
My knot swells, catches, locks into place. And then I’m coming too, spilling into her in hot pulses while she shakes apart beneath me.
Her neck is right there. Soft skin, racing pulse, the perfect spot where her shoulder meets her throat. My teeth ache with the need to sink into her, to mark her, to make her ours in every way that matters.
I press my mouth there instead. Kiss her pulse point, breathe her in, force myself to pull back.
Not yet. Not without Nate. Not until we’re whole.
“I love you.” The words tear out of me, raw and rough. “Cara—I love you—”
“I love you too.” She’s crying, tears streaming down her temples into her hair, but she’s smiling. “I love you too, Lucas. I never stopped.”
I collapse against her, careful to keep my weight on my forearms. We’re locked together now, tied by my knot, and we’re not going anywhere for a while.
“So.” I press a kiss to her damp forehead. “That was...”
“Perfect.” She wraps her arms around my neck, pulls me closer. “That was absolutely perfect.”
“I had a lot of time to plan.”
She laughs, watery and warm. “Ten years of planning?”
“Ten years of hoping.” I shift us carefully onto our sides, still joined, her leg draped over my hip. “I never let myself believe it would actually happen. But I planned anyway. Just in case.”
“Lucas Price.” She traces a finger along my jaw. “Always prepared.”
“It’s a character flaw.”
“It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
I kiss her. Slow and sweet this time, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her wrapped around me in every way.
Through the thin walls, I can hear Theo humming in the kitchen. Something upbeat. Probably some terrible pop song he’d never admit to knowing all the words to.
“He’s happy,” Cara murmurs against my lips.
“He’s not the only one.”
She smiles, and my chest aches with how much I love her.
We still have to deal with Nate. Still have to break through his walls, convince him that this is real, that she’s staying, that it’s safe to let himself want her.
But that’s tomorrow’s problem.
Tonight, I have Cara in my arms and my knot inside her and everything I’ve wanted for a decade finally within reach.
Tonight, that’s more than enough.