Luc (Rossi Brothers) Read online

  “Come in.” Finding her brain again, she stepped back and pulled the door open wider.

  He took a step, crossing the threshold. Bruce trotted inside, disappearing into the house behind her. Luc’s large hands settled on her waist, tugging her against him as if they belonged there, like they’d done it a thousand times before. His warm body hit hers, all those muscles pressing against her. Relief shuddered through her.

  He leaned down, his mouth hovering over hers. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left you in the park last week.”

  “Me either.” She barely suppressed the overwhelming urge to lift onto her tiptoes to capture his mouth. “I thought about you last night …”

  As if he’d read her mind, Luc bent his head, brushing his mouth over hers, a series of soft kisses that made her forget to breathe. “That book you sent me has been killing me. I haven’t slept in days, and my concentration is shot to hell, because all I could think about was seeing you today. I’m done trying to stay away from you, Liz. I give up. I’m not that strong of a man.”

  He pulled back to meet her gaze again, and she followed, angling her chin in an effort to keep the bare connection. Her heart rate had taken off for outer space, and all the heat in her body pooled between her trembling thighs.

  She ran her tongue over her dry lips and swallowed. “So kiss me.”

  Sam was right. If she truly wanted to move on with her life, she had to step outside her safe little box. Luc’s sexy gaze and the way her body responded to him provided some darn good motivation.

  Luc kicked the door closed behind him, then walked her backward until she came up against the wall across from the foyer. One by one, he took her hands, threading their fingers, and held them above her head.

  Any other time, she might have protested. She hated being held down. Except the move was a bold one. He was so much larger, so much taller, and so deliciously masculine.

  He stood there, that dark gaze locked on hers, just long enough to make her wonder what he was up to, before his mouth swooped down to claim hers. A groan rumbled out of him, full of the same torment storming through her. She couldn’t think, had no idea if she even remembered to breathe. The man overloaded her senses. The luscious heat of his tongue as it flicked into her mouth. The softness of his lips. His scent encapsulated her, fresh and clean, with a hint of cinnamon and cloves and vanilla. The man smelled like a spice cabinet, and it was damn heady.

  His kiss was anything but gentle. His lips branded her. Pleasure shivered over the surface of her heated skin, and a quiet moan escaped her.

  As if that weren’t enough, he leaned into her, his hips pinning her against the wall. There wasn’t an inch of her not surrounded by him. His erection pressed into her stomach, and her ability to think deserted her.

  Needing more, she lifted onto her toes and kissed him back, tugged against his restraint. She ached to touch him, to feel every part of him, every hill and valley of warm muscle.

  Luc finally pulled back, dropping his forehead to hers. “Jesus.”

  She gripped fistfuls of his T-shirt as she stared up at him, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

  Maybe this would be the only time she had with him, but she wanted it. Come tomorrow, she’d drag this back where it needed to be. Today, though, she needed him. His touch, his tenderness. He made her feel alive, and she desperately wanted to hold on to that feeling.

  He lifted a hand, his long fingers caressing her cheek. “You sure this is what you want?”

  “I’m sure.” She took his hands in hers, guiding them down her sides and over her jean-clad bottom. “Don’t stop.”

  A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He squeezed her cheeks, murmuring appreciatively, before pulling her legs off the floor like she weighed nothing. His gaze seared into her as he settled between her thighs. His soft lips fluttered over hers. His body trembled against her.

  “I could take you right here, you know that?” His voice came as a husky murmur in her ear as his lips skimmed her jaw. “That’s what you do to me. You make me crazy.”

  He arched against her, his erection nudging the pulse between her thighs. A desperate, needy gasp left her. Her eyelids closed, and she pushed her hips into the intense connection of their bodies.

  “Yes.” God, she wanted this. To get caught up in passion again.

  His lips skimmed her neck next, the light touch electrifying, setting fire to her skin and leaving goose bumps in its wake. He scraped his teeth over her earlobe, then pulled back. “I refuse to take you against the wall like a goddamn Neanderthal.”

  His admission made her smile. She’d forgotten that, too—the power of knowing someone wanted you as much as you wanted them. “Needy much?”

  He growled low in his throat. “I thought about you last night, too.”

  “Living room’s closer. Couch is on the other side of that doorway.” She leaned in, nipping at his bottom lip to distract him lest he ask where the bedroom was. She couldn’t bear making love in her bed yet. She and Daniel hadn’t shared this house, but they’d shared that bed, and the thought of bringing another man there had an emotion rising within her she refused to acknowledge. At least, not now.

  Besides. If she waited until they got all the way upstairs, she might talk herself out of this. She could think of a million reasons why this wasn’t a good idea, none of which she wanted to ponder now. She needed this. She deserved this.

  Luc kissed her again, halting the thoughts in their tracks. He set her feet on the floor, straightened off the wall, and hooked her around the waist, walking her slowly backward into the living room. All the while, his mouth teased hers, these kisses lighter, more playful, but no less potent. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, nipped at the corner, then trailed across her jaw and down her neck.

  Once in the living room, he released her, took a seat on the couch, and peered expectantly up at her.

  Liz drew her bottom lip into her mouth, gnashing it between her teeth. He was so damn sexy sitting there. She was supposed to follow him. Climb onto his lap. Continue where they’d left off. Namely, get naked with him. But every doubt she’d ever had rose up to choke her. In about two seconds, she was going to have to bare herself to him. For the first time in twenty years, she’d make love to a man who wasn’t Daniel.

  Was she really ready for this?

  She was a grown adult, for crying out loud. Maybe this wasn’t love. Maybe she’d never fall in love again. But, by God, she was a woman, and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to fly by the seat of her pants. Do something not her style. Heedless of the fear, of the doubt. Of the pain. Daniel was gone, and there wasn’t any bringing him back.

  She deserved to live. Didn’t she?

  • • •

  Vulnerability rose in her eyes. The uncertainty that hung all over her made the same emotion rise like a tidal wave over Luc’s head. They were supposed to be cooking. Not getting naked.

  He held out his hand to her. “You okay?”

  Despite her clear reservations, she climbed onto his lap and sat back on his knees. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I haven’t done this in a while.”

  Determined to help her relax, he took her hand and held it over his heart. “Feel that? I swear it’s going to bust right out of my ribcage. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, either.” He stroked his fingers over hers. “You know, this doesn’t have to go anywhere. We got caught up in each other. We could just as easily get up and go cook.”

  She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t. “Just like that?”

  He stroked his hands down her arms, slipping his fingers into hers. Partly to soothe her obvious discomfort, to let her know she wasn’t alone in her hesitations, and partly because he liked the way her hand fit into his.

  “Yeah. Just like that. I’m thirty, sweetheart. Not sixteen.” He winked. “I am capable of controlling myself. Tell me somethin
g—what do you want, Liz?”

  Her gaze searched his face for a moment. “You.”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  She bit her bottom lip and looked down, a soft flush rising in her cheeks as she fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt.

  “What if …” She shook her head and leaned forward, her breaths whispering across his lips. “Never mind. Kiss me.”

  Every instinct told him to kiss her and make her forget her nerves. He put a finger to her lips instead. It mattered more that she was comfortable with him. He wanted her relaxed, but more than that, he needed to know he wouldn’t be something she’d regret come tomorrow. “Uh-uh. Say it.”

  She heaved a sigh and sat back again. “It’s stupid, really. And childish.”

  He stroked her chin with his thumb, grazing her bottom lip. She had full lips, and so damned soft and supple. “Out with it.”

  “I haven’t done this in a long time, and even then, only ever with one man. Daniel was my first and my last. I’m also forty. I’m not some little, hot body. I have hips and an ass. I have laugh lines, for crying out loud, and let’s face it. Being well-endowed means gravity can be really cruel when you get to be my age. What if I’m not what you expect?”

  It took him all of two seconds to realize what she was telling him. She might be forty, but right then, she might as well have been a high school girl, with all the same insecurities. If that didn’t tell him a lot about her, he didn’t know what would.

  He smiled and tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, letting his thumbs caress the sides of her face. He hadn’t a damn clue how to tell her she wasn’t alone in that feeling, that he was right there with her. So he aimed for teasing. It was so easy between them, the playfulness, that he hoped it would help her relax. “That’s what you’re worried about? That I’m expecting you to be some sex goddess who’s going to rock my world?”

  “Don’t laugh.” She playfully smacked his chest, but the heavy emotion hanging over her finally lightened.

  He chuckled. “I’m not laughing, I swear. I’m nervous, too. This really isn’t me, either. Ask me how many women I’ve made love to in my life.”

  He tightened his hold on her, gathering her closer. The idea was to divest them of the last of their nervousness. But even through two layers of clothing, her taut nipples teased his skin. His heart pounded. God, he needed to taste her again.

  Her gaze flicked to his mouth. “How many?”

  “Three.” It was all he could do not to close the miniscule space between them and claim her lips again. He’d be quite content to simply kiss her, to learn every nuance of her supple mouth. “I was twenty-one before I lost my virginity. At a party with some of my college buddies. Had one girlfriend after that. Met Alyssa’s mother not too long after. She was my one and only fling. Though I suppose Maria can now be counted as one, all things considered.”

  Her gaze flicked to his, surprise and amusement rising in her eyes. “A guy like you, a virgin until you were twenty-one?”

  Out of everything he’d said, she chose to focus on his age again, but damned if he wasn’t curious now. “A guy like me?”

  A fierce blush climbed into her cheeks, but she rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, like you don’t know you’re the catch of the county.”

  He rolled his eyes right back at her. “Why, because I own Aldo’s?”

  “No.” A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she slapped a palm against the side of his thigh. “Because you look pretty damn hot in these jeans.”

  The way her smile lit up her face stalled his heart. Just that fast, the energy between them shifted. Her fingers wandered, trailing up the side of his thigh to his waist before skimming his belly and his pecs. He had the sudden desire to rip off his T-shirt, just to feel the heat of her palms on his bare skin.

  “And for the record, I happen to prefer women who look like women, not preteen girls. Most models nowadays have no sexy curves I can run my hands over.” To prove his point, he followed the swells of her body, up her thighs and over her hips, and gave her behind an appreciative squeeze. She was right. She had wide hips and a generous backside. “Your curves are luscious. I’m ready to bust through my zipper.”

  He gave her cheeks another squeeze before cupping her breasts in his palms. He wanted to show her that every part of her, exactly the way she was, turned him on more than a little.

  Except the feel of her made him forget his name. Liz was soft all over, and he kept stroking, teasing, because he couldn’t help himself. He kneaded her breasts, rolling them in his hands, enjoying their gentle weight, their roundness.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, her body going limp in his lap. She dropped her head back, a shiver visibly running through her, and her mouth fell open on a quiet, shaky sigh. He sat stunned for a moment, watching the bliss travel across her features. Christ, that was addicting, watching a woman’s pleasure.

  He flicked his thumbs over her elongated nipples, soaking in her every reaction. The long, low groan she let out nearly undid him. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? Tell me what you want.”

  She lifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes heavy-lidded and burning through him. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to think about where this is going, either.”

  “Then kiss me.”

  She watched him for a moment, her fingers idly stroking the nape of his neck, then brushed her mouth over his. Her kiss was soft, merely a gentle tangle of lips, and a tentative flick of her tongue. She let out a shuddering breath and angled her head, deepening the contact.

  Her tongue stroked in again, bolder this time, tracing his. When she finally came up for air, his heart pounded in his ears. He feared he’d combust right there. She did nothing to hide her desire, either. She didn’t blush or look away but held his gaze, hot and hungry, and all it did was drag him further into her. He burrowed his hands beneath her shirt, lost in the velvet warmth of her skin and those violet eyes.

  When she flashed a little smile and reached for the hem of her blouse, his gaze rooted to her movement. She didn’t tease, either, but pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it behind her. It landed on the floor at his feet with a swish of fabric. Then she stilled, letting him look.

  She had on a red, lacy bra that covered only about half her breasts, leaving the rest to spill out over the top, and he couldn’t resist running a palm over the exposed flesh. “Wow. You’re a surprise at every turn. I expected cotton.”

  “Does that mean you like it?” She looked down at her hands, resting against his belly, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

  “I like it.” He sat up and gripped her ass in his hands, pulling her harder against him, and brushed his mouth over hers. “You’re damn sexy in that thing.”

  “Thank you.” She pinched his shirt between her thumb and forefinger and tugged gently on the fabric. “Your turn.”

  He reached back, pulled his T-shirt over his head, and tossed it to the floor with hers. “There. I believe that means you’re next, sweetheart.”

  Her gaze flicked to his, something wicked in the depths, and the corners of her mouth twitched. “What would you like me to take off?”

  He traced a finger along the seam of her bra. “This. It’s sexy, and you look incredible in it, but I ache to touch you.”

  She nodded and sat back. Again, she didn’t tease, but unhooked her bra, let the straps fall, freeing her breasts, and tossed the garment to the floor. Then she sat back again, naked now from the waist up.

  All he could do was stare. It awed him, how comfortable she was with herself. Despite her earlier reservations, she didn’t attempt to cover herself like the other women he’d been with. He cupped the weight of her breasts in his palms. Allowed himself the luxury of kneading the soft flesh.

  “You’re right, you know. You’re a bit more than a handful, but your breasts are full and round and luscious. Your nipples make my mouth water.” To prove his point, he bent his head, running his tongue o
ver first one then the other, and sucked on the tip, savoring the heady taste of her. When she was shivering and panting in his lap, he released her and glanced up. “What next, sweetheart?”

  She opened her heavy-lidded eyes and hooked a finger into a belt loop, giving it a tug. “I want these off … as quickly as possible.”

  She popped the top button free, then slid off his lap and cocked a brow at him. He stood, and, unable to resist teasing, took his pants off slowly. He inched down the zipper. Pushed the denim over his hips. Let them fall to the floor. All the while, she watched with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. When he finally kicked the pants aside, she let out a quiet laugh.

  “Tease.” She looked him over, giving a murmur of appreciation that somehow only aroused him that much more. “I love a man in boxers.”

  When she pressed herself against him and her hand dipped inside his shorts, he groaned. Lord, he was toast. Her soft, slender fingers closed around him, stroking him like she had all the time in the world.

  “Christ.” He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head back, desperate to hold on to himself. He wanted, needed, to take this at her pace, to let her play in her way, her time. Making her comfortable with him was important, but she had him on his knees, begging for mercy.

  Unable to stand it anymore and about three seconds from combusting, he shackled her wrist and opened his eyes. “If you’re trying to prove you’re in control and I’m not, I concede defeat. Keep this up any longer, and the fireworks are going to come a lot sooner than anticipated. Your jeans. Panties, too, please.”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but she didn’t smile. Instead, the teasing light left her eyes, somberness taking its place.

  She pressed against his length. “I guess it’s been a while for both of us, huh?”

  He stroked his hands up her back. “Still nervous?”

  An ironic half grin tilted one corner of her mouth. “I’m not sure what to do with myself. That’s silly, right?”

  “No.” He reached for the button on her jeans. “May I?”