Luc (Rossi Brothers) Read online

  Baby steps. What you need, Lizzie, are baby steps. Sam had told her that. Wasn’t it time she started taking some?

  When the bell rang again, Liz swallowed her nerves, opened her eyes, and pulled open the door. As expected, Luc stood on the other side. He looked casual and relaxed, dressed in faded jeans and a clean, white T-shirt, hands tucked in his pockets. God, just seeing him made her heart skip a beat.

  “Morning.” He pulled his hands from his pockets, letting them drop to his sides, and smiled. His fathomless eyes glittered, liquid and tender.

  Liz ran a shaky hand over her hair. God, she hoped she looked okay. “Morning.”

  He pushed away from the doorway and crossed the threshold, looming over her. “Ready for your first cooking lesson?”

  His scent swirled around her, cinnamon and vanilla and something entirely male. All she wanted right then was to wrap her arms around his neck and plaster her body to his, and the restraint it took not to had her limbs shaking.

  She let out a nervous laugh and voiced the first thought that wasn’t some form of shut up and kiss me. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s a reason I don’t cook. Daniel banned me when …”

  Liz caught the words leaving her mouth too late to suck them back. A fierce heat climbed up her neck and into her cheeks. Way to impress your date—constantly talk about your dead husband.

  Her shoulders slumped, and she offered Luc an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I really should stop constantly mentioning Daniel.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Luc smiled again—this one softer, gentler—and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  His comment was sweet, and it soothed a ragged nerve, but he was being too polite. “It should bother you.”

  He bent down, eyes narrowed, and touched his nose to hers. “You don’t scare me.” He took her hand, his fingers slipping into hers, warm and soft, and stepped around her, pulling her behind him as he moved farther into the house. He stopped in front of the staircase across from the foyer and glanced at her. “Show me to your kitchen.”

  She nodded and headed off to the right. “This way.”

  He followed in silence down the hallway. With every step, her heart hammered in her throat. His calloused palm was a comforting connection, a lifeline to the first real emotion she’d allowed herself to experience in two years that wasn’t grief. It was a terrifying leap into an uncertain future, but she had to take it, or she’d be stuck in the same place for the rest of her life.

  She had to allow herself to date Luc Rossi.

  She came to a stop inside the kitchen entrance. “It’s not much.”

  She’d bought this house originally because she’d fallen in love with the small, simple kitchen. Since she didn’t cook, it suited her. It was an eat-in, with the breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the tiny dining room. She had enough counter space for a microwave and her coffee maker. There were only a few cabinets, along with a shelf over the sink where she kept items like the sugar bowl and her favorite coffee mug.

  She also liked the space because it was bright and open. The windows lining the wall behind the sink let in the morning sun. Thanks to the plain white walls, a bright, clear day could make the space glow.

  “It’ll do.” Luc came to a stop behind her, settling his hands on her hips. His body lined her back, warm and solid and masculine.

  Baby steps.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got and what we need to go get.” He stepped around her into the kitchen and began pulling open drawers and cabinets. “You’ve got knives, that’s good, and a cutting board …”

  The familiarity with which he moved about the space finally cracked the shell of nerves holding her frozen. She folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe, unable to hide her grin. “Make yourself at home.”

  He darted a glance at her over his shoulder, that lone corner of his mouth hitching upward. He gave a halfhearted shrug. “I’m distracting myself. I’m comfortable in the kitchen. It’s home away from home for me.”

  There it was. The certain something that pulled her to him like the moon’s gravity to the ocean tides. There was something so open and honest about him, it obliterated every defense she had and relaxed the knot her stomach had tied itself into.

  She followed him into the room, coming to stand beside him at the center island. His scent assaulted her again, swirling around her and beckoning her closer. Would she ever get enough of that smell? All too well, she remembered discovering it on his skin, dropping kisses along his torso as she worked her way down his body.

  Resisting the urge to plaster herself against him, she tossed him a smile. “Are you as nervous as I am?”

  Instead of answering, he set down the spice jar he held and took her hand, placing it over his chest. It was a familiar gesture, one he’d done before. It was also intimate, and like last time, it set her off balance. His body was warm, and his heart drummed an erratic beat that matched hers. “Does that tell you anything?”

  For a moment, their gazes caught and held. Her blood roared in her ears. Tension crackled around them, an air of wants and needs and desires. She’d never wanted Daniel this way. Daniel had been comfortable. Luc was like discovering her book had made it to the top of the New York Times Best Sellers list. Or being offered a taste of the finest chocolate. It was addicting and encompassing.

  She stared up at him, hopelessly lost in his eyes. She had to know. “Did you really come over to teach me to cook?”

  For a moment, Luc went so still she had no idea if he even breathed. Desire flared in his gaze, though, scorching her insides. “Did you agree to let me because you really wanted cooking lessons?”

  Should she tell him the truth?

  She couldn’t lie to him. It would probably get her into trouble one day soon. “It’s disconcerting when you do that, you know.”

  He took a step, hovering close enough now his body heat radiated through her. “Do what?”

  For a moment, she forgot everything but him, so large and masculine. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to hold on to her sanity. We’re taking baby steps, not giant, bounding leaps, remember? “You’re always honest with me.”

  “I like honest.” His finger stroked the shell of her ear, torturously slow, as if it were the most natural action in the world. As if he weren’t scattering her every rational thought. “Being honest keeps us on an even keel. We know what to expect from each other.”

  Her eyes closed as the sensation conspired against her. Soft and warm and smooth, his touch dragged up memories of his fingers stroking her nipples. One touch. One touch and she was burning for more. “Because she wasn’t honest with you?”

  “Because nobody ever is, and it’s kind of refreshing that we are.” He rubbed her earlobe between his index and forefinger, sending hot little goose bumps shivering across the surface of her skin.

  She had sensitive earlobes, and he well knew it. He’d spent quite a lot of time nibbling them the last time he was here. Desperate to regain control—of herself as well as the moment—she opened her eyes and smiled. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  Eyes dark and hungry, he took hold of her hips and turned her back to the counter. Then he braced his hands on either side of her, trapping her within his embrace. He bent down, his mouth hovering above hers, so close his warm breaths caressed her lips. “And if I am?”

  The mischievous glint in his eye made her stomach flip-flop. She licked her suddenly dry lips, unable to tear her gaze off his luscious mouth. Did he know he had her dangling by a desperate little thread?

  “You told me something similar in the park that morning, do you remember?” He leaned down again, this time brushing his lips across hers. “I teased you at Sam’s, told you we’d have to base this on sex, and in the park a week ago, you told me that’s all you were capable of. I asked you if you were propositioning me.”

  How could she forget? She’d been half tempted to tell him yes that day.

  Caught lik
e a helpless fly in a spider’s web, she managed a bare nod. “I remember.”

  “What if I toss that challenge back at you? What if I dared you to step into what you offered me? Or at least something like it. I don’t want just sex. I’ve told you that. But I also know you’re scared. I’m proposing we take this slow.”

  She bit back a miserable groan. What in the world did she say to that? Did she admit his seduction worked? That every inch of her had liquefied into a giant puddle of goo? That she wanted nothing more than to lean up on her toes and capture his mouth so she could relive the blissful peace his kiss gave her?

  “My reaction at the festival yesterday made me realize I can’t deny the pull you have on me anymore. I want to see you again. I want to see you often.” He caressed his thumb across her bottom lip, the touch sensual but tender. For a moment, his gaze followed, and then he bent his head, his mouth hovering over hers. “Tell me you don’t want the same thing. Tell me to leave.”

  Everything inside of her trembled. This was out of control, like a wildfire over a dry field. This wasn’t taking another, single, solitary step forward. This was saying to hell with it and leaping off the dang cliff, praying she could fly.

  “I can’t.” Her gaze was riveted to the lips she ached for a taste of. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, remembering the gentle insistence of his mouth on hers. The way his kiss had set a fire blazing in her stomach. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  She remembered, too, the intensity of making love to him. She yearned to be there again. He was right. She couldn’t deny they had indeed shared an incredible connection.

  “Me either. I think that’s where we need to start. One step at a time. Slow. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “At the end of the week, if I’ve taught you anything and you haven’t decided you can’t stand the sight of me, have dinner with me. Let me cook for you.”

  Like she could ever get tired of seeing him. Liz swallowed past the lump of nerves and fear and guilt stuck in her throat. “Uh-uh. If you actually teach me something, I want to cook for you.”

  “I’d like that.” Pleasure and amusement mixed with something hot and delicious in his eyes. It was a dangerous little spark she feared would set off a full roaring blaze, one with the power to consume her.

  Forget baby steps. She was about to take a giant, bounding leap into the unknown. She prayed to God her wings worked.

  Chapter Eleven

  The air around them thickened, pulsing with a sudden burst of sensual energy. Desire flared in the depths of Liz’s eyes, soft and subdued, a lot like her but powerful all the same, and Luc was hard-pressed to remain where he stood.

  The subtle acknowledgement moved between them. Their relationship had changed in the blink of an eye. They’d gone from a single date that needed to stay where it started, to admitting … hell, he didn’t even know what. That they wanted more? To see where this would take them? It wasn’t solely about the sex; that much he knew.

  He didn’t want to think about it. The thought did nothing to ease the tight knot in his stomach. She had a soft heart. Liz was gold. The end result was still the same, though. He had to face the possibility the time might come when she’d decide she didn’t want Alyssa to be a part of her life or that she wouldn’t want him. Would his heart be too far gone by that time to pull himself back?

  Not that he had the power or the desire to deny her. God help them both.

  Liz smiled, gentle and shy, and turned to the counter. “What are we making?”

  “Well, that depends on you. I recall you mentioning you liked my gnocchi with pesto. I could teach you to make that. Both are super easy. Or I could teach you to make fresh pasta.” He set his hands on the counter beside her. She grew so still her keen awareness of him crackled in the air around them. In seconds, he was hardening behind his fly.

  “Pesto. I’d love to learn how to make your pesto.” The smile she tried for wobbled. Her gaze caught on his, only to skirt away again. “Is gnocchi easy to make?”

  “Very simple. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. I’ve been making it since I was a kid.” He meant to focus on cooking. He really did. But as he turned to her, his hand reached out of its own accord, his fingers trailing across her cheek before diving into the hair at the nape of her neck. Too well, he recalled the thick, luxurious locks trailing his chest.

  She turned toward him fully, her body brushing his. Her mouth fell open like an offering, and before he’d thought about it, he was leaning down, tasting her. She let out a shuddering breath this time, and her hand caught his shoulder, as if to anchor herself. He leaned in again. One taste. He wanted one taste, and he’d drag this back to where it ought to be.

  Except his tongue flicked out, reaching, searching the cavity of her hot, delicious mouth, and she responded, stroking his in turn. What little willpower he had left flitted away like a leaf in the wind.

  With a quiet, relenting groan, he gripped her waist, dragging her against him. Her breasts flattened against his chest, nipples diamond hard, and her soft belly settled against his hips. She let out that maddening little whimper and lifted onto her toes, reaching for him. He obliged, kissing her with everything trapped inside of him, all the need, the pent-up desire.

  Liz moaned, abandon and pleasure all mixed in one luscious sound, and the kiss shifted and changed, becoming a slow, erotic tangle of lips and tongues and a need impossible to fulfill.

  Whatever was left of his good intentions got tossed aside. He wrapped himself around her, drawing her to him, and her soft, luscious body melted into him. He didn’t think, couldn’t think, beyond a desperate need to feel her heat surrounding him, slick and hot. He ached to drive her to the brink of madness, then watch her quietly fall apart.

  Two sets of hands reached for clothing at the same time. He tugged open the button on her jeans and slid down the zipper. She stepped back enough to push her pants and underwear down, stepped out of them, and then yanked her shirt off over her head.

  It hit the floor with a swish of fabric, and she was pressing her bare curves against him, fingers already fumbling with his fly. She had him open in seconds and reached inside, her hand closing around him. She stroked him slowly, moaning softly from the back of her throat. Shaking from head to toe, he dropped his head back and let her have her way with him. Her fingers were soft and warm and absolute bliss.

  When he was sure she’d drive him right over the edge, she stopped and nipped at his chin. “Make love to me.”

  He opened his heavy-lidded eyes and caught her gaze. She stared at him, eyes wide and round and this side of stunned. They were caught in something bigger than a one-night stand, and they both knew it. He didn’t want to take her here on the counter, like a damn animal. She was the kind of woman a man took his time with.

  Bracing her hands behind her, she hopped up onto the counter, and despite his good intentions, he shoved his jeans to his knees and edged between her thighs. He settled his mouth over hers again, grabbed her hips and pulled her onto him.

  “Luc …” She whimpered, her legs locking around his hips.

  He buried his face in her throat, filled his lungs with that fruity, floral scent, and immersed himself in everything that was Liz. Her arms tightened around him. Her body curled into his, and their already fierce coupling gained a wild, desperate rhythm, the sounds filling the kitchen around them.

  He wasn’t sure who tipped first. She let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob, and her heat convulsed around him. The pleasure roaring through him was too much, and his orgasm ripped through him, shredding the last of whatever barrier lay between them.

  Instead of curling against him, though, she went still as a statue, her body stiffening against him. Still attempting to catch his breath, he lifted his head from the fall of hair at her shoulder to find her staring at him. Her eyes flitted over his face, filled with a palpable fear. They’d connected on a level far deeper than either of them had anticipated, and he’d bet ever
y cent he had that she’d felt it, too.

  Like closing the blinds, she threw up a wall between them. She diverted her gaze and pushed against his chest. His mind still floating in a sated haze, he obliged and stepped back. Liz slid from the counter and moved around him, gathering her clothing from the floor.

  What he wanted was to gather her against him until she stopped shaking, but not once while she dressed did she look at him. Instead, she pulled her clothing on with stiff, methodical movements. Once dressed, she moved to the kitchen sink and grabbed a small glass from the long overhead shelf, filled it from the tap, and took a drink.

  Luc followed, but he had a feeling if he touched her, she’d bolt. He had to take this at her pace, whatever that meant.

  So he leaned back against the counter beside her instead and tucked his hands in his pockets, hoping, somehow, to seem less threatening. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t look at him but stared out the window in front of her.

  The wall between them was fully intact, like a tangible object. What it would take to crack and move beyond it? When he’d come home from Italy, he’d sworn to himself this was exactly what he didn’t want. Hell, the last thing his daughter needed was him losing his head over a woman. But watching Liz shut him out now, one need rose above it all: a desperate need to convince her not to shove him out of her life. He had no desire to go back to his life before her. However long their relationship lasted, he was falling for her, and he couldn’t be sorry for it.

  Despite the stern voice in his head telling him to give her space, he turned and pressed against her back. “You have regrets.”

  Her body stiffened, but she didn’t push him away this time. “I don’t know what I feel right now.”

  Her voice came devoid of emotion, her words merely a detached statement. One way or another, he had to know where he stood. “Do you regret what we shared?”

  Asking her that made him vulnerable as hell, like a dog rolling over to bare his belly, and his every limb trembled.