Hot Buttered Yum (23 page)

He glanced quickly at his mom and saw her worry as she
stared at the back of Gracie’s head. The last few years would have been far more
difficult without his parents’ love and support.

“But what if she doesn’t?” Gracie continued. Her voice had
grown nervously thin.

No words came to mind. What the hell did he say to that?

Yes, clearly there was at least one person who didn’t care
for Gracie. But he had no idea how to explain that some women were just selfish
and immature, and didn’t deserve the honor of being called a mother.

He didn’t believe that about Roni.

Of course, there was much about Roni he didn’t know. What if
he was making another mistake and she
was
like Des?

He glanced at his mom again and she stepped forward this
time and put her hand on Gracie’s shoulder. “She’s just a friend, Gracie,” she
spoke softly, and he was suddenly grateful she’d come into the room. “Like your
friend Lisa who comes over to play with you. Your Daddy wants his friend to
come for a play date too.” His mother shot Lucas a hard, wry look at the words
“play date” and he felt as if he’d been caught with his hand up a girl’s shirt.
“And if for some crazy reason his friend doesn’t like you, then your Daddy would
never invite her back.”

That was the truth. Love his daughter, or don’t let the door
hit you on the way out.

Gracie tilted her head up and stared at her grandmother with
such a serious expression that Lucas wanted to laugh. Only his insides had twisted
until they’d become rigid. No laughter was coming up through that mess.

Then Gracie looked back at him. She nodded. “I think she’ll
like me,” she declared. “She already talked to me. I hope she says yes when you
ask her.”

Her small, rose-colored mouth curved up and Lucas wanted to
catch the next flight home just to pull his daughter close. He couldn’t imagine
a world without her in it. “I miss you, sweet Gracie.”

“I miss you too, sweet Daddy.”

The moon was a thin sliver that night, but it was bright. It
hung low out over the ocean, shooting a narrow path through Roni’s bedroom
window and slicing over the two of them. Lucas lay there, his eyes open,
staring blankly at the painting hanging on the wall opposite the bed while his
brain worked overtime.

He’d done nothing but think about her all day. Her. And him.
And Gracie.

Her and him.

Her and Gracie.

Her and him and Gracie.

He shifted his gaze from the painting and it landed on the ceiling.
He wanted Roni in his life. Yet he couldn’t understand how his feelings could
develop so quickly. Or so strongly.

It couldn’t be love until he brought her fully into his
world.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

She didn’t know about all that Gracie had been through. Or
what she might go through again. She didn’t know that he worried every minute
of every day that the cancer would come back.

But his heart kept saying something different. It taunted
him that this was love.

They had a good time together. The sex was good—
the sex
was great
—and they easily laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. They’d
even fallen into a comfortable routine. But it was more than sex and fun and
comfort.

She was vulnerable behind her walls.

And every time he saw that vulnerability peek out, he found
himself wanting to pull her close. He wanted to protect her and fix her world.

And he wanted her to fix his.

He turned his head to find her watching him. The clock on
the bedside table behind her showed that it was just after one in the morning. He
needed to tell her about Gracie.

But the words didn’t come.

She was lying on her side, her curls sticking out in every
direction, and one corner of her mouth slowly hitched up. The loneliness he’d
gotten used to seeing in her eyes now showed up in her smile. He couldn’t stop
himself from reaching for her.

He pulled her to him, and neither of them spoke as their
mouths met.

She opened her lips and welcomed him in, and he groaned deep
in his throat as he thrust inside her mouth. She tasted sweet and hot. He
gripped the back of her head to hold her as he feasted on her. He nibbled and
tasted, and he swore he’d never get enough.

She gave as good as she got. He’d never seen her so greedy.

She sucked at his lips as her own hands clamped tightly around
him. She reached deep inside. Her tongue slid along his and met him thrust for
thrust. And the whole time, he would swear she was silently begging for more. Pleading
for it. She was almost feral in her need.

When they broke apart, their hot breaths mingling and her
cheeks flushed, she shoved the covers aside and threw a leg over his torso. The
next instant she rose, proud and high above him, and he could do nothing but
stare.

The moonlight hit her above her navel and cast a seductive glow
over her entire body. The pink tips of her breasts pointed up, the silver
barbell winked in the night. His hands balled up with desire. She was
breathtaking.

His erection nudged against the cheeks of her butt, and he
wanted to be deep inside her like he’d never wanted to be inside another woman
in his life.

She must have been thinking along the same lines.

Before he could reach for a condom, she had one in her hand
and was ripping it open with her teeth. She lifted above him and then she had
him in her hand. His hips automatically pistoned with her touch. Her slim, soft
fingers around his heavy weight got him every time.

In the next second she had the condom rolled over him and
was easing herself down along its path. His balls squeezed tight with the feel
of her.

She was slick and wet, and so damned hot that it almost
hurt.

He didn’t let himself pump, though he was near desperate to.
He gritted his teeth and held back. She was in charge for the moment. He would
follow her lead.

When she had him buried inside her, her eyelashes fluttered in
the moonlight. She lifted her face and looked at him. Her dark eyes were almost
emotionless, but it was as if everything she was feeling was transmitted
wordlessly between them.

She hadn’t expected this thing between them to be so real.

Neither had he.

She wasn’t sure what to do about it.

He swallowed. Neither was he.

Then she began to move and he didn’t want to think.

Her neck arched, her head tilted back, and her eyes closed.
Her lips parted. She reached behind her until her hands splayed on the top of
his thighs, and her breasts jutted high in the air. And all the while, her body
moved up and down on his. Tight, pale curves were displayed in the glow from
the moon, and he knew it to be the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

He reached for her, settling his hand where they were joined.
He spread his fingers wide. She had a narrow strip of hair there, trimmed
short, and he took his time rubbing back and forth over the coarser texture.
When his thumb dipped to touch her engorged flesh, she paused for a brief
second, but then pressed herself more fully against him. He throbbed inside
her.

With effort, he moved his hand up and slid over her stomach.
The muscles beneath her skin quivered under his touch. His other hand gripped
her thigh as she continued riding him. Finally, he reached her breast.

She arched her back farther, filling his hand with her.

She didn’t make a sound. She merely rode him. He simply did
his best to hang on.

He watched from half-closed eyes, unable to look at anything
but her. And he just knew.

This wasn’t a fling. It wasn’t casual. It never had been.

It didn’t matter how fast it had happened, or how much he really
knew about her.

He loved her.

He wanted her in his life.

When she lifted up and pulled her hands from his thighs, he
took over. It was either that or profess his love right then and there. And he
feared that might scare her away.

He lifted from the mattress and put his mouth to her body. He
sucked her breast deep between his lips. Finally, a sound came from her. It was
soft and short. A high-pitched keening noise. He wanted to hear more.

Her hips rose and fell faster now, and he wrapped an arm
around her waist. He worked one breast with his hand while the other got the
attention of his teeth and tongue. He bit down right at the base of her beaded,
oh-so-perfect nipple and he flicked the little barbell with his tongue. She
made another noise. This time it was a groan.

She was holding on tight to her control and suddenly his
purpose was to make her lose it. He wanted her screaming his name.

He pulled her down with him until his back was on the
mattress and she was flush against his chest. He gripped her rear with both hands
and pumped hard into her. They were sweating and sliding together and he
couldn’t get enough. He couldn’t touch her enough. His mouth tasted and nipped
at her neck as a hand scraped up her back. She was salty, but maintained the
hint of berries that he always caught on her. He sucked a perfect circle of
skin into his mouth.

She squeezed him tight from the inside, and his mouth popped
free at her neck. The hand at her butt clenched as he almost called it done.
Sweet Jesus, she drove him out of his mind.

She writhed, seeming almost out of control, yet he knew she
wasn’t. She twisted her hips in small circles, and it felt like she was pulling
every last ounce of his energy out through his dick. She knew exactly what she
was doing. And she was winning this round.

He went for her mouth, but she pulled away. She lifted up
and braced her palms on his shoulders, watching him as she worked him with her
hips. There was passion in her eyes now. And a hot, burning need. He could see
that as plain as day.

But also determination.

He didn’t know if she was determined to make this the best
damned orgasm he’d ever had, or if she was determined to make sure he didn’t
mean as much to her as she feared.

He snagged her by the back of the head and burned a kiss to
her mouth. He meant something to her, dammit. And he knew it.

Breathless, she pulled back and shoved him to the mattress.

This time, he let her have her way.

Her hips picked up speed, and she ground tight into him.
Small little moves that had him making the most unmanly of noises. Her eyes
lost focus and her lower jaw fell slightly open and he knew that she was about
to dive over the edge.

He held on, refusing to go before she did.

And then she stiffened and arched. Her body began small,
almost imperceptible twitches, and her breaths came out in short, staccato
bursts. She immediately gasped them back in. Her fingers dug into his skin. Her
thighs clenched him tight.

He gripped her hips and groaned from the torturous pleasure
of it all. Her inner muscles squeezed him. Tight and fast. Over and over. And
she continued to rock and grind against him. He hung on with the sheer
determination to make sure she saw what she was to him before he finished. He refused
to let her hide from it.

The instant her body began to relax, he said her name.

Her gaze locked with his and he let himself go. He emptied
himself.

He pumped and throbbed, feeling like his orgasm would roar
through him forever, and all the time, Roni didn’t look away. He showed her
everything he could. His love. His desire. And the fact that he was just as
scared as she was.

This was big. They both knew that.

And it could so easily go wrong.

When he was spent, he eased his grip and she collapsed to
his chest. They both breathed hard. He lifted his arms and draped them around
her back and hugged her tight. His lips lazily curved upward when she didn’t so
much as move a muscle. She was as wrung out as he was.

Several minutes later, with neither of them having said a
word, he felt her breaths deepen and grow steady. She would soon be asleep in
his arms.

“Roni,” he said softly.

Her breathing paused. Then she lifted her head.

She looked deep into his eyes.

“You want more,” she stated, her voice calm and steady.

He knew she didn’t mean more sex. She meant …
more
.
More than these two weeks.

He nodded.

She dropped her head back to his chest and he felt her
breath ruffle across his skin.

“So do you,” he whispered into her hair.

She didn’t respond.

He began drifting off to sleep with the idea of waking
beside her in the morning, making love again, and then discussing where they
went from there. He would tell her about Gracie. He was looking forward to it.

But when he awoke, he was alone in bed. He glanced at the
clock. He’d overslept. For the first time in years, he hadn’t woken
automatically at the same time every morning.

Then he heard the piano from the other room, and he rose to
go find Roni.

Roni had her neck bent over the keys and her eyes closed as
she worked on the song that was in her head, but not yet on the page. She’d
gotten out of bed that morning with something new running through her mind.

Actually, multiple things had been running through her mind.
Lucas and what they’d done during the middle of the night, for one. That hadn’t
just been sex. It had been intense and honest and real. It had been a
desperation for more.

And she’d been right there with him.

She’d also been thinking about Gracie. She didn’t know what
to think there. She hadn’t talked to the girl again, but she wanted to. She
wanted to get to know her. More than the details that Lucas had filled in. But
mostly, she wanted to know what was going to happen when Lucas went home in a
few days.

Then there had been the music in her head.

It had demanded to get out. It had been the easier thing to
tackle at five in the morning, so she’d gotten up, put on some coffee, and left
Lucas where he lay.

He’d mentioned before they’d gone to bed the night before
that he had finished his work project, and she’d found herself wondering if
he’d want to stick around this morning. It would interrupt her piano session, but
she hadn’t been able to make herself wake him and tell him he needed to go.   

Her fingers finally hit on the notes she’d been after. She
played it again and then quickly scribbled them down.

Lucas had made love to her last night like he was branding
her. His every touch had scorched her from the inside out. She’d been unwilling
to speak for the duration for fear that the wrong thing would come out of her
mouth.

Love.

The idea of it had teased her all evening. Did she love him?
Could she love him? Did she want to?

None of it made any sense. They’d barely just met.

But the mere idea of him heading back to Dallas and her not
hearing from him again put an icy fear in her that she’d been trying not to
explore too deeply for days.

He’d accused her of wanting more last night.

And yeah, she did. She just didn’t know how much.

She replayed the piece from the beginning, and nodded when
she finished. It was right. Then she realized that the music reflected her a
bit.

The opening was fun and easy, yet she held slightly back
with the tone. She imagined her life and how she often felt like she was
standing just behind closed doors. She wanted to open them and step through.
She wanted to see what was on the other side. But there was so much potential hurt
that could be waiting for her.

So she hung out on the safe side and had a good time. She
smiled and she laughed. And she pretended everything was okay.

But it wasn’t. It hadn’t been in a long time.

Telling Andie and Ginger about Zoe had shown her that. The
conversation had released years of pent-up pain. She’d needed the time alone
with her thoughts of Zoe, but she’d equally needed to share her love for the
child with her friends. She could move on now. And she was ready to.

She closed her eyes and played the next part. She hadn’t
written the notes for this section yet, but they flowed from her fingers now as
if she’d been practicing them for days. She built to a crescendo, the notes
intense and exciting. The doors were opening and the sun was poking through.
She’d taken off her running shoes, yet she was dying to sprint through to the
other side anyway.

Only this time, she would run barefoot. She wanted to feel every
grain of sand the world had to offer.

She wanted to feel and experience Lucas. And whatever feelings
he brought out in her.

She lost the rhythm and stopped, then started that section
over. This time, she wrote the notes as she went. When finished, she began to play
from the beginning once more.

About halfway through, a noise pulled her attention and she glanced
over to find Lucas standing in her darkened living room, his jeans pulled on,
hugging his muscular thighs, and unbuttoned at the waist. It made her itch to
dip her fingers behind the zipper and take him out.

His chest was bare and glowed in the lights of the Christmas
tree, and her lungs swelled with the breath she took. He was gorgeous.

All strong and sexy and male. Testosterone oozed all over
her house.

But it was the way he watched her that got to her.

He stood immobile, his eyes taking in everything about her
at once. She didn’t stop playing as he watched. And she didn’t take her eyes
off him. She also got the distinct impression that once the music stopped, he
would want to talk about last night.

About his declaration that she wanted more too.

She didn’t want to talk about that this morning. She needed
to think things through first.

When she got to the end of what she’d written, she tucked
her hands beneath her thighs and shot him a wry smile. “You woke up before I
meant for you to,” she said.

“Don’t stop on my account.” His voice was rough and sleepy
and had a bit of an edge to it. It turned her on. “I won’t interrupt,” he
added.

She chuckled and swiveled on her seat to face him, sliding
one leg around to the other side of the bench. She had a robe tied loosely around
her waist—and nothing more. It was a plain white cover-up that she often wore
when she got out of the shower. A boring robe. Like one found on the back of
the bathroom door in a hotel room.

Only, when she straddled the bench like she was doing now,
the sides inched open and she suspected it suddenly looked a lot more
interesting. The material clung to the inner swells of her breasts, leaving a
tiny gap of skin right between them, and then opening wider the farther down it
went. The sash remained knotted at her waist, with the ends draped down to the lacquered
bench in front of her bare crotch.

Lucas’s blue eyes crawled down her exposed flesh. His look
made her nipples harden.

“You walked into my living room barely dressed, Lucas.” Her
voice was not good at hiding what he did to her. Not that she really tried to
hide it anyway. She had a sudden vision of him laying her out on top of her
piano. “I’m not sure how you expect that not to distract me.”

“I didn’t walk in here.” His eyes burned on her body as he
continued looking at her. “I was pulled in. I swear you’re a siren. You reel me
in every time I get near you.” He slowly lifted his gaze to hers before letting
it edge off to the side of her face. “Have I ever told you that I like your
hair?” he asked.

She blinked. Her hair? He wanted to talk about her hair?
While she sat there bare-assed and her crotch exposed?
Fine.
She could
talk about her hair. She tugged the sides of the material over her body. “I
look better when I straighten it,” she said.

“No, you don’t.”

The words almost made her smile. She preferred it curly
herself. As a kid, her tutor had been in charge of making her hair look “presentable”
for performances. The poor woman had spent hours every week trying to turn the
locks into something more than corkscrews. As a teen, Roni had taken this duty
upon herself. She’d never managed straight at that age, but with its length,
she’d found a happy medium with slight waves.

“Yes I do,” she insisted. She touched a hand to her tousled hair.
“I look more polished.”

“But you don’t look like you.”

She eyed him. That was the very argument she’d always used when
her dad had wanted her to straighten it. “You don’t even know me,” she said,
but she didn’t believe the words. This man somehow seemed to know everything
about her.

He crossed the room until he stood directly in front of her.
He was tall and hot and sculpted down to every detail of his body, and her
fingers began to wiggle at the thought of pulling him down beside her. His gaze
engulfed her.

“I know you,” he said simply. The words were low and felt
almost dangerous.

She caught herself leaning forward, as if hoping he would
put his mouth to hers.

“What were you playing?” he asked instead. “Something you’re
writing?”

She rolled her eyes and pulled her leg back across the
bench. Why all the talking? With a dirty look tossed his way, she retied her
robe over herself. “Yes.” She once again faced the piano. “I’ve been writing a
few pieces lately.”

She’d been thinking about calling her manager and discussing
the possibility of a new CD. She’d been thinking about that a lot.

“Play something for me,” he demanded.

“I just did.” She glanced at him. Now that he was away from
the Christmas tree, the pale gray light that was coming up beyond the ocean
stroked lazily over his body. It didn’t diminish his hotness one bit.

“You were playing it for
you
,” he said. “Play
something for me.”

She put her fingers on the keys. “You did note that I didn’t
stop playing when I saw you, right?”

“True.” He moved to the coffeepot and pulled down a cup.
“But you were watching me like you wanted to eat me up,” he said. “You weren’t
thinking about playing that piece for me.”

She shook her head. No, she hadn’t been thinking about
playing that piece for him.

“Why are you way back there?” she grumbled. He seemed to be
intentionally keeping his distance.

“I want coffee.”

She began playing a soft medley of Christmas songs. “You
could have
me
along with your coffee,” she teased.

His big body suddenly stood directly behind hers and the
heat from him burned through the robe at her back. He reached around and untied
her sash with one quick move.

“Oh,” she breathed out.

“Don’t stop playing,” he said.

She didn’t stop playing.

The cotton parted in his hands. Slowly and with great
precision he opened it wide and pushed it off her shoulders until it puddled
around her hips.

While bent over her, he turned his face into her neck and deposited
a very tiny kiss. She shivered. He’d probably kissed the red spot she’d
discovered when she’d looked in the mirror that morning. He’d left a mark on
her last night.

Then he stepped back and he was gone. She was left sitting
there at the piano, playing buck naked except for the sleeves of her robe,
which hadn’t fallen off, since her hands were still on the keys.

“What are you doing?” she asked. She glanced over her
shoulder to find him standing in front of the open refrigerator.

“Breakfast,” he said. He took a sip of his coffee. He looked
so perfect standing there in his jeans and rumpled hair, drinking from her coffee
mug while searching out a bite to eat. She could get used to that.

She lifted her hands and turned to him, but he pointed a quick
finger at her.

“Play,” he said.

“Fine,” she shot out. She turned back and played, but not
before she slipped her arms free of the sleeves. The robe draped across the
bench, threatening to slide to the floor, but hung on due to the fact that her
rear was still sitting on it.

She picked a classical piece this time. One that she could
pound out her frustrations to.

“You could get naked too,” she pointed out.

“I could.” Noises rustled behind her. The refrigerator
closed and a cabinet door closed. Then what sounded like the microwave opening
and closing.

Beeps sounded and a soft whirring hum began.

“I guess you’re staying for breakfast then?” she asked, her
voice heavy on sarcasm. It was Wednesday and she would be making breakfast for Mrs.
Rylander in a couple hours, but she liked the idea of Lucas sticking around and
fixing himself something in her kitchen.

“Yep.” He didn’t seem to be much of a talker this morning.

More rustling. This time it had the distinct sound of denim,
and Roni couldn’t help but peek over her shoulder again.

“Didn’t I tell you to play?” Lucas asked when he caught her
looking.

She’d been right. His jeans were now in his hand, no
underwear, and he had about two-thirds of an erection going.

Her fingers never stopped. “I believe I am playing.” She
missed a couple notes, but didn’t let that bother her. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted me naked.”

She nodded. “Yes, I did.”

Her breaths grew shallow and she had to turn back to the
piano in order to concentrate. She’d never had a naked man in her kitchen
before. And most certainly, not a hot, delicious-enough-to-serve-on-her-dining-room-table—if
she’d had one—naked man.

“Um …” she began. It seemed like she should say
something.

The microwave beeped and the door opened and closed.

“I can’t eat,” she managed to get out. “My neighbor is
coming over for breakfast later.”

Lucas stepped to her side and she looked over to find his
penis in her line of sight. It was bobbing in the air as if greeting her with a
hearty good morning. “Mrs. R?” he asked. “Cool. And I didn’t fix you breakfast.”
He held up his plate, which had a piece of leftover quiche large enough for
three people and two apples on it. “You’re too busy playing to eat.”

Without another word, he took his nakedness and walked to
the far side of the piano. His butt cheeks were almost pressed up against the
large glass pane of her window, while the two side panels were open, and she
knew he had to be feeling the cool breeze waft across his body. It didn’t seem
to dampen his “spirit” any.

“When can I stop playing?” she asked. Her throat was dry and
she’d grown wet between her legs.

“When I’ve heard enough.”

He stooped to the floor, and she was surprised when he stood
with a rather dead-looking plant in his hand.

“Forget to water something?” he asked.

She squinted at the light-pink planter he held. “I forgot
that was there. I think one of the ladies at the senior center gave it to me back
in the summer.”

He lifted an eyebrow, then moved across the room and deposited
the whole thing in her trash. He returned to his position at the other end of
her piano, blocking her view of the ocean. He was most distracting, and she
found herself wanting to forget the piano and drag him to the ground.