Chapter Four #2
I came back into the kitchen to find Lucas standing in the middle of the empty room, arms crossed over his chest. I tried not to notice the way his shoulders stretched the worn fabric of his T-shirt. Or the lush curve of his lower lip.
Looking everywhere but at him, I said, "Well, thanks."
"I have your key," he said.
"Oh. Why do you have my key?"
I pulled my keys from my back pocket and belatedly noticed that only one house key was on the ring.
"I locked up after you passed out last night."
I hated blushing. I didn't do it very often, but when I did, I turned bright red. Looking everywhere but at Lucas, I held out my hand and said, "Thank you. I'm sorry about that. It was a bad day."
"Yeah, no shit. Any day your brother fires you from the family company is a bad day. You were due a little whiskey. Though your brother may kill you when he finds out what you were drinking."
"He's not going to be happy," I agreed. "And I regretted it when I woke up this morning."
"Hung over?" Lucas asked, one dark eyebrow raised.
"Not now, but I was earlier. I don't think I'll be drinking for a while."
"Do you regret everything you did last night?" Lucas asked, those vivid green eyes locked on mine.
A bolt of awareness shot through me at the neutral yet flirtatious question.
He was giving me an out.
I could laugh and shrug and blame the whiskey. He'd give me my key and walk out the door, and we'd both be off the hook.
I'd assumed he didn't want me, but maybe Lucas Jackson liked to play his cards close to the vest. He wasn't going to put himself out there, but he wouldn't have opened the door for me if he wasn't interested in walking through.
I held his eyes, seeing the intensity behind his casual question. Lucas wasn't an easy man. He'd probably be a nightmare as a boyfriend.
Calling Lucas Jackson a boy-anything felt wrong. He was all man, more than a little dangerous, and probably too much for me to handle. The men I was used to dating were nothing like Lucas. Refined, clean-cut, and appropriate.
None of those men had ever kissed me like Lucas.
I wasn't looking for a relationship. I didn't want Lucas to be my new boyfriend. I had to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life, and I didn't need the complication of a new man added into the mix.
Why did it have to be complicated?
I'd never had an affair before. I'd had sex, of course, but always with someone I was dating. Someone I'd been dating for a while before we got to the naked parts. I didn't know if I had the guts to tell Lucas what I really wanted.
There was only one way to find out.
Before I could lose my nerve, I smiled and said, "No. The only thing I regret from last night is finishing that bottle of whiskey."
"You sure about that?" Lucas asked, dropping his arms to his sides and taking a step closer.
I hooked my thumbs in the back pocket of my jeans and took a step toward him myself.
Now only a few feet apart, we eyed each other. I was reminded of shows I'd seen on the Nature Channel—two wild animals, cautiously circling, looking for an opening.
After the way I'd jumped Lucas the day before, the comparison wasn't too far off.
"I'm sure," I said, taking another step closer.
Cocking my head to the side, I reconsidered my words. "On second thought, I take that back."
Triumph surged through me at the flash of disappointment in Lucas's eyes.
Before he could move away, I said, "The only thing I really regret from last night is that I had too much to drink and ended up sleeping alone."
"You're not drunk now," Lucas said.
"No, I'm not."
Anticipation fizzed in my stomach. I was standing on the edge of a cliff, one foot hovering in midair, just about to fall over the edge. The feeling faded when Lucas crossed his arms back over his chest and shook his head.
"This is a bad idea," he said. "We're neighbors. And you're not my type."
"Not your type as in not the kind of woman you usually fuck? Or not your type as in you're not attracted to me?" I asked, raising my chin.
It's hard to look down your nose at someone almost a foot taller, but I did my best. Lucas laughed, the sound a low rumble in his chest that turned me on despite my irritation.
"Oh, I'm attracted," he said. "I thought that was obvious. But you don't strike me as the kind of woman who says fuck, much less does it with a guy she just met, Princess."
"Don't call me Princess," I shot back. "You don't know anything about me.
You know about my family, you know my resume, but you don't know me.
For your information, I say fuck all the time.
And no, I don't usually sleep with men I've just met.
I was interested in making an exception for you, but if you're going to be an ass about it, then never mind—"
I was working up a good head of steam when Lucas reached out, closed his big hand over my wrist, and tugged. Off-balance, I fell into his arms, too surprised to continue my tirade.
This time, he kissed me.
Kissing Lucas Jackson was even better sober.
His lips were soft and full against mine, but his kiss was hard. The way he used his mouth was all about possession and control.
The contrast made my head spin. I closed my hands over those strong shoulders and held on for dear life, kissing him back with everything I had. He tasted of coffee and something indefinably male that was just Lucas.
His hands skimmed down my back, closing over my ass and lifting me as he turned and pressed me to the wall, pinning me with his hips. I wrapped my legs around his waist, arching into him.
I forgot all of my uncertainty, forgot that I needed a shower and that I didn't think he liked my haircut. None of that mattered.
The only thing I cared about was Lucas's body against mine, the thrust of his erection pinned between us, his hands on my ass, my breasts pressing against his chest, and his mouth moving on mine over and over.
I wanted more. I dropped my hands from his shoulders, sliding them to his waist until I found the hem of his T-shirt. His skin beneath was warm and smooth.
That was what I wanted. His skin against mine.
I ran my hands up his chest, lingering over every groove of muscle, scraping my fingertips over his nipples as I pulled the fabric up and out of the way.
Lucas let out a groan and stepped back, setting me on my feet. His voice was rough when he said, "I don't have a condom. Do you?"
I shook my head. Shit. Clearly, I was unprepared for this spur of the moment affair with the neighbor thing. I must have looked as disappointed as I felt because Lucas dropped his head and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
"I'll be back in a few hours with pizza," he said. "And condoms."
"Sounds like a plan," I said, surprised by the husky undertone to my voice. Was that me? I sounded different, aroused and awake in an entirely new way. I liked it.
"I'm keeping your key," Lucas said. "Lock the door behind me." A second later, he was gone.
Distracted, I did as he'd ordered, flipping the deadbolt on the kitchen door as I watched him hop the fence between our backyards.
I might have stood there for a while, staring after him with kiss-swollen lips and a silly smile on my face, if the doorbell hadn't rung.
I hurried to the front of the house and saw a van with the logo of the futon company in my driveway. Knowing Lucas would be back for dinner armed with pizza and condoms, splurging on the futon didn't seem quite so reckless.
I had plans for that futon.