31. Daphne
31
DAPHNE
L uke is not someone often surprised, especially in intimate encounters. So, I love that he’s completely floored that I want to go down on him, and that makes me want to do it even more. He’s right that you can only know if you take a chance, and I dive right into that, following my impulse to seduce him.
It works brilliantly. He’s in heaven and I wish I’d taken a chance on this before. It doesn’t even seem possible that I could do anything wrong—every move I make, he gets harder or moans louder. His hips buck of their own volition and I get to run my hands down the strength of his bare legs. I grip his butt and he cups my head in his hands, his fingers in my hair as I tease him and devour him.
It doesn’t take long for him to become taut and catch his breath quickly, just the way he does right before he comes. I love that I know the signs, that I can pull back a little, then finish him off with a flourish that has him shouting and shaking.
He swears softly and whispers my name, his eyes dark when he looks down at me with something like wonder. He’s hanging onto the counter while I clean up, then he gets his second wind, tossing me over his shoulder and heading for the stairs.
“Now, you’re in trouble,” he mutters as he climbs them three at a time. I kick my feet in anticipation, unable to wait.
He starts the shower, then hauls my T-shirt over my shoulders, touching his lips reverently to the hollow below my collarbone. My tights are pushed down, my bra discarded. I close my eyes when his hands lock around my waist and give myself permission to just enjoy his powerful kiss.
Luke cups my breasts in his hands and kisses each nipple in turn, drawing it to attention with gentle persistence, showing me just how sensitive and tingly it is. I’m melting when he grazes his way back to my mouth, spearing his hands into my hair and holding me captive to a kiss meant to claim my soul.
The room fills with heat and steam, and I watch hungrily as he steps away to strip off his own shirt. It should be illegal for a man to have such a great butt and I reach out to give him a caress. He tugs me toward the shower, beckoning to me with a finger and a smile. I drop my panties and follow him. He closes the door behind us and pulls me into his arms. The hot water streams over us and he traps me against the tiled wall, holding me close and kissing me as his hand slides lower. I gasp when he finally touches me, arching my back and letting my head fall back. I am so sensitive. He eases his thumb across me and I moan without meaning to, a sound that is the perfect expression of my yearning.
“Oh yeah,” he whispers. “Tonight, I’m going to make you wait for it.”
“You wouldn’t be mean when I’ve had such a bad day.” I fake a pout and he laughs.
“I would and I will.” His eyes are glittering. “You wouldn’t want anything else.”
I wouldn’t. It’s all true.
He claims a quick kiss as he laces our hands together, the fingers of his one hand entwined with both of mine. He braces his elbow and holds my hands high over my head, so I’m stretched to my tiptoes. It feels wicked and wonderful, and when his other hand slides between my thighs, I shudder. He kisses my ear, slowly, even as his fingers begin to work.
“And when I’m done, you’ll ask me to do it again,” he promises in a velvety purr and I already know that he’s right.
I end up riding him on the bathroom floor, needing to feel him inside me after I come. Luke gallantly takes the bottom against the tile and I straddle him, feeling audacious and insatiable. I see the marks of my own nails in his shoulders and even the imprint of my teeth.
And yet, and yet, he seems to be thrilled by my demands, by the new bold me, and I feel as if neither of us can get enough. I ride him hard. He watches me like I’m incredible and that only makes me more demanding. I take him almost to the edge, then relent, teasing him a little more each time so that he comes bigger in the end.
And when he does, it’s explosive, his body so taut that he arches off the floor, taking me with him as he reaches for the stars.
I watch him, so glad I can do this to him and for him, then his eyes open to blue slits of amusement. “I think I just had an out-of-body experience,” he rumbles.
“No, you were definitely in my body,” I reply as I slide down to lie on his chest. He laughs harder than I’ve ever heard him laugh before. It’s a wonderful sound. I wriggle my hips, still amazed that he was so huge and I was able to take him completely. “You were impossible to miss.”
“Problem?” he asks and I shake my head.
“Perfection.”
“Damn, Daph, it was.” His tone is filled with a wonder I share.
I touch the marks I’ve left on his shoulders. “Too much?”
He gives a shiver of delight and rolls his eyes. “Perfection,” he insists and gives me a kiss that is all that and more. Then he rolls me to my side, eyes glinting. His hand slides lower and I part my thighs, welcoming his touch. “We definitely need to add this to the playlist,” he growls and I nod agreement.
I like the implication that he’ll be around in a month, and I kiss him with all my enthusiasm for that concept. In a heartbeat, we’re tangled together again, and I’m rocking against his hand, wanting what he gives. “Twice for you,” he whispers, cradling me against his chest as his fingers drive me crazy. He’s watching me with satisfaction. “Once to make you wild and once to make you sleepy.”
“No. Am I that predictable?”
“Maybe not tonight.” He kisses me fiercely, roughly, his fingers sliding inside me as his thumb does that really good bit. I arch my back and make a little sound of protest when he stops, one that makes him slide his knee between my legs. He’s holding me down again, stretching me out, and I realize just how much I love this when he casts me into the abyss again. He swallows the sound of my release with a commanding kiss, and it takes me a minute to catch my breath.
“Damn,” I whisper.
“That’s not half of it,” he agrees and helps me up. He starts the shower again and this time we wash each other in silence. I wonder all the things I usually wonder, then realize there’s a lesson to be learned in this night’s activities.
Luke’s right. You only can be certain if you try.
You only know if you ask.
“You’re looking very thoughtful,” he says, turning me around so he can wash my back in long smooth strokes.
“Why haven’t you moved in?” I ask and his hand stops for a second.
“Why haven’t you invited me to?”
It appears that we have different assumptions about this and I’m glad I’ve asked. “This is my fault?”
“No, it’s your choice. I’ve wanted to stay here from the very beginning, but it’s your house. It’s up to you if and when that happens.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He flings out a hand. “Just showing up somewhere, saying ‘oh, I’m staying here, I’ll have my eggs over easy at seven’ seems presumptuous.” I bite back a smile because he does a pretty good impression of Justin. “I don’t even turn up uninvited at my mom’s place with expectations.”
“But that house is kind of your house, seeing that you bought it and all.”
“I bought it for her,” Luke corrects me, his eyes turning that vivid blue. “It’s her house. It’s up to her who stays there.”
“That’s very sweet,” I say softly.
“Sweet,” he echoes under his breath, his eyes no less stormy. “Not a fave adjective of mine, Daph, especially not applied to me.”
“But you are sweet,” I tell him. “And nice.”
“Argh!”
“And sometimes a little bit spicy, too.” He starts to smile. “Definitely not predictable.”
“Thank God for that.” He surveys me with a smile. “You are definitely not predictable.”
“I thought I was.”
“Not even close. I love how you surprise me.” He bends down and kisses me, then washes my legs. “How did the moving in together thing work with you and JJ?”
“JJ?”
“Jerk Justin.”
I laugh a little even though I don’t want to talk about Justin. Luke is washing between my toes with a thoroughness I doubt is merited, but I watch him, noting how the muscles move in his shoulders, how his hands are both strong and gentle. He glances up, reminding me that I haven’t answered, and I try. “I don’t know. No big announcement. I don’t even remember a discussion. We always went to his place, because he had a house and I had a little tiny apartment. One night, it seemed too late to go home, so I stayed.” I shrug as if it doesn’t matter, because I’ve had enough reminder of Justin today to last me a year.
Maybe a lifetime.
Luke stands up quickly beside me. “Do not tell me that you routinely left his house in the middle of the night and went home alone.” When his eyes flash like that, he looks like a vengeful god.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because the world is full of predators, Daph. He should have taken you home if you weren’t staying…”
I smile at his ferocity, then reach up and touch my lips to his cheek. He has, of course, a perfect scruffy single day of stubble, and his beard is ridiculously soft. I love the feel of it beneath my lips and think I should probably tell him how good it feels on my nipples.
“I like how protective you are,” I say instead.
“It’s just how I am.”
“I know.” I smile, knowing how he’ll respond to my next words. “It’s sweet.”
“Let’s get back to spicy,” he growls but I glimpse satisfaction in his eyes before he kisses me with such heat that he steals my breath away.
Again.
This man. How is it that his effect on me only gets stronger every time we’re together? Shouldn’t it diminish? Shouldn’t familiarity breed contempt or at least indifference? But it doesn’t. I feel like he’s cast a spell over me and it just becomes more powerful with prolonged exposure—and the amazing part is that I like that just fine.
I love him, always and forever.
I can admit it to myself, at least.
It’s later and we’re in bed. I’m lying on my stomach, feeling better than I ever have on day one, and Luke is kneeling behind me. His hands are on my waist, warm and heavy, and his thumbs are working some rhythmic sorcery on the small of my back. He found the herbal tea Willow gave me, the one that tastes like straw in hot water, and has made me a cup. Either it’s making me feel better or the Motrin is at work. (My bet is on the orgasms.)
I’m relaxed and content, probably too relaxed and content, because my filter is off.
I start to ask him things I want to know.
I’m grabbing this take-a-chance philosophy and running with it.
“How do you know all about this?” is my first question. “About this time of the month.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I have to think that one-and-done doesn’t usually happen with the special effects.”
He laughs a little, a warm and comforting sound. “My mom and I looked out for each other.”
I glance over my shoulder at him, slightly horrified. “She didn’t talk to you about this when you were a kid?”
“No, but I knew that sometimes she didn’t feel well and I learned what helped.” He leans down, his lips on the back of my neck. “Motrin, tea and hot water bottles, not orgasms. Nothing twisted, Daph. I wasn’t that much of a rulebreaker.”
I smile into my pillow.
“She told me that once, that sex helped, years later when I was…active. Maybe she thought it would ensure I didn’t bolt in horror. I don’t know. I never investigated until now.” He bends over me again, the prickle of his chest hair against my back. “It’s remained an intriguing possibility, but now, hmmm, I want it in the rotation.”
“I agree.” My smile broadens a bit at even a hint of permanence to our relationship, coming from him.
“What do you want for dinner?”
“You cook?”
“Some.”
“Then surprise me.” I wait a beat. “I’m not much good at cooking. Maybe we can take turns after you move in.”
His eyes light and he freezes for a second, then smiles slowly. “Is that an invitation, Daph?” he murmurs, his voice deep and wonderful.
I nod. “It is. I think there’s space for your guitar in the living room, and I can make room in the closet for your stuff.” He’s staring at me like I’m speaking in another language, like he doesn’t dare believe it, so I take a breath and say the rest. “I’d really like you to.”
I get a kiss that probably isn’t intended to leave me as dizzy as it does. My heart is leaping around my chest like it’s doing an Olympic gymnastics routine by the time he’s done and I know he likes the idea as much as I do.
I watch as Luke saunters out of the bedroom with purpose, feeling like the luckiest person on the planet—and that’s before he starts whistling.
Will it be better if he stays longer, or will that just make it hurt more when he leaves? I don’t care anymore. I’m in for the experience, wherever it takes us.
And I’m going to love every minute.