Magical Weddings (65 page)

Her fingers dug deeply into all the right places. Her hands moved slowly from limb to limb and then up his back.

He flipped over a few minutes before Veronica did. She’d fallen asleep and the masseur gave her time to wake up.

The rest of the hour drifted past in a scented haze. His masseur worked through every muscle in his legs, hips and then up through the arms. She ended by tucking his arms back under the towels and leaving him totally wrapped and relaxed. As she exited the room, he felt like she took his energy with him.

Reality existed beyond the tent walls. He could barely hear it above the spa music. Jet Ski motors powering through the surf. People laughing and shouting. Gulls shrieking.

But tucked away in this dark room heavy with the scent of oils and candles, Lucas finally let go of the real world and savored a few moments of no responsibility other than just breathing. He caught himself before drifting off into a nap.

“That was brilliant.” Veronica struggled to sit up. She sounded as drowsy as he felt.

He held his breath for a moment when her towel slipped below her breast and she seemed totally unaware of it. It was too dark to see more than gently-rounded skin.

Lucas admitted to himself that he wanted to see more, but wanting and having were two very different things. “Definitely.” Why did his voice sound so deep? He cleared his throat. “I’m starving.”

Veronica hopped off her table and rushed to the buffet. She clutched her towel in one hand and a pineapple wedge in the other.

“Here’s your robe. It’ll be much easier to eat with this on.”

“Thanks, Lucas.” A sleepy smile lit up her face, making her seem like a beacon in this dark place.

Underneath his own robe, his body tensed in areas that wanted to drift in her direction–heed her signal. Standing this close, he could smell the fragrant massage oils mingling with her scent.

His mouth went dry and he mentally yanked himself into a cold shower.

They needed fluids, but the champagne was the only drink supplied. Not optimal for rehydrating, but it would help with the thirst. He popped the cork and poured a healthy amount into both glasses.

Veronica juggled two heaping plates of food as she moved over to a small patio set plumped up with large pillows. He recognized them from the sky deck.

“You do know you can make as many trips to the buffet as you’d like, right?”

She laughed. “Of course. I made this one for you.”

“You think of others.” He hadn’t meant to actually say that aloud.

“It’s the curse of a chef. We cannot let anyone be without a plate of food.”

He handed her one of the glasses of Cristal. “Your father used to say something like that.”

“He did. He also grew up in a big Italian family. Nobody entered Nana’s house without having a plate of food put in front of them.”

“Italian. How did you end up with red in your hair?” He tipped the edge of his glass towards her hair. He pictured curling her dark auburn hair around his fingers, pulling her head back, and exposing her long neck to him.

“Scottish blood. My mother’s side of the family, I guess.”

“You guess? You don’t know your mother’s family?”

“Well, you know she died when I was still a baby. My dad never talked about her family and I never asked. He was all I needed.”

He applauded her sense of loyalty. “Maybe you should look into it. You never know. You could be the only heir to a Scottish fortune.”

Again her laughter and smile caused certain muscles to tense in ways that he would be unable to relax on his own.

“Maybe you were too distracted by your obsession with Davis.” Lucas wanted to smash something. She was getting inside his head and yet he was the one to bring
Davis
into this private little world.

But she wasn’t annoyed by it. She giggled and seemed lost in some memory. He’d love to know which one it was.

Lucas admitted to himself that he loved the sound of Veronica’s laughter. He thought of a memory they both shared. “Do you remember the time Davis came home so drunk he couldn’t get up the staircase, so he slept in the kitchen?”

“I do. My dad gave Davis a special hangover drink–old family recipe–and then made him sanitize the whole kitchen.”

“Our father would have slapped Davis on the back and handed him another drink.”

“Mr. Crowley wanted Davis to be a drunk?”

“Father wanted us to learn early on how to hold our liquor. Socialize but stay sharp.”

Veronica looked like she wanted to say something more, but instead she leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

He was more than happy to stop talking about his father and brother. He didn’t want to think about Davis right now.

Lucas would rather think about how her robe parted as she lifted her arms to cradle her head. Underneath his towel, he felt every ounce of tension flood to a single, throbbing muscle.

What am I, eighteen again?
No, he was a thirty-one-year-old professional getting a hard-on at the sight of a nipple.

He’d sign a contract with the devil right now, if he’d give Lucas the answer to one burning question.

What does Veronica’s nipple taste like?

Veronica couldn’t remember a more relaxing experience. As she took another sip of champagne, she tilted the glass too quickly. Some of it slipped away from her lips and landed on her chest. A cool bubbly sensation fizzed against her skin.

She looked down and found more than champagne. She found her right breast hanging out of the fluffy white robe. She didn’t have to look, but she did anyway. She lifted her eyes to see if Lucas caught the unintended display.

Holy hell, he did!

She should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. She should cover up, but she didn’t.

Instead, her brain quickly catalogued every detail around her. The room hadn’t changed, so she focused on Lucas. His bare chest gleamed from the massage oils. His tanned skin seemed even darker against the white towel wrapped around his waist. All of that seemed normal.

It was his face and eyes that had changed. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together. His gaze finally lifted up to meet hers. It was too dark to read his eyes from here, but he didn’t blink.

Intensity radiated from him and it terrified her–then it excited her.

She wasn’t afraid of him, but she was afraid of the new images burning through her mind. Fantasies that once featured Davis now featured someone with darker hair, a lock of which kept dropping across his forehead.

In her fantasy, she crawled over to him and combed the lock back into place with her fingers. In turn, his fingers slid across her jaw and dove into her hair.

She felt his hands shake as he cradled her head. She could easily read his eyes now. All of the tension he radiated was his lust being restrained.

His skin smelled of the earthy scent of sandalwood. His warm breath was shallow and scented with champagne. His lips were so close to hers. She wondered if they would taste of the fruity Cristal.

She leaned in and tasted him.

She savored the sparkling fruit from the champagne and something else–something subtle. Something Lucas.

Soft yet urgent, her tongue explored deeper.

Seeking.

Savoring.

Claiming.

She felt his impatience when he griped her hair tighter. He wanted a turn. She gave him what he wanted, opening her lips wider and letting him in. The sensations his tongue ignited rippled through her body.

She shivered.

His lips began to move away and she moaned in protest. He didn’t go far. He explored her cheek and then her eyelids. He suckled and teased her earlobe before descending to the sweet spot in the corner of her neck and shoulders.

She felt her world tilt backwards but Lucas was there to hold her. His lips burned a trail across her chest until capturing a nipple. He sucked it gently into his mouth and nibbled lightly, sending more tremors through her body. His tongue swirled around soothingly. Then, he did it all again. And again.

Her body vibrated with needy tremors that all moved toward one destination–the spot between her legs which was now moist and pulsing.

His lips moved again. Burning a hot, wet path across to claim the other nipple. More tremors fired through her body. She needed both hands to hold on, one gripping his shoulder and one kneading through his hair.

Lips. “Oh, god.” Those delicious lips. But they weren’t just lips, they belonged to a man. And not just any man. “Lucas.”

Fantasy shattered into reality. It hadn’t been a dream. She
was
kissing Lucas.

Veronica gulped in the thick air of the dark tent. She was on her knees in between Lucas’ legs. And worse, the robe had slipped entirely off her shoulders. Her modesty saved only by the belt. She was bent slightly backwards which presented her bare breasts like a buffet.

She pushed away from Lucas and quickly pulled the robe back over her shoulders, crossing it tightly over her chest.

“What the hell, Lucas?”

He didn’t look embarrassed or regretful. He looked very interested in getting back to what they’d been engaged in. “Don’t look at me like that. You started it.”

“I did not.” But the evidence was completely stacked against her.
He
didn’t move around a coffee table to kneel between
her
legs. It was all on her. She’d let her mind flirt with a fantasy of kissing Lucas and her traitorous body had eagerly followed along.

Davis.
She hadn’t betrayed him. They weren’t an item. She’d only come as a final chance to declare her lifelong love for him before it was too late.

Lucas still looked at her with an intensity that made her body tremble again.

“We have the tent for as long as we want.” His eyebrow quirked up with a silent question. That damned lock of hair swung loose again, but she wasn’t falling for it this time.

“I think I’ve had enough fantasy for one day.” Her voice sounded too snippy.

Lucas reached for the champagne and poured a full glass. He held it toward her but when she shook her head, he drank it himself.

“You fantasize this scenario often?” He downed the champagne faster than anyone should with a glass of Cristal.

“If I did, I can assure you that you’ve never been the one featured in it.”

“Who featured in your fantasy today,
Roni
?” His face darkened and his voice sounded tight.

“Davis.” She spat the word out quickly before she lost her nerve. She wanted it to be true. But it was a lie that even Lucas expected her to say. She wouldn’t disappoint him. “But you were a great stand-in.”

Lucas stood and moved to her side of the table very slowly.

She felt like stalked prey, but she refused to shrink away from him.

He stopped inches away, swaying slightly as he leaned in close to her ear. “Do you really want to be someone’s mistress?”

His cheek stung like hell but the pain was worth it. He’d felt all of Veronica’s anger and frustration behind that one hard slap. Lucas placed the cold champagne bottle against his jaw.

He was thankful she didn’t use a closed fist.

In the moments after she stormed out of the tent, he simply sat back down and stared blankly at the parted curtain. He thought about going after her, but he was not ready or willing to apologize.

He’d blatantly challenged her to compare him to his brother, and then when she did...he’d felt a raw bitterness–deep down. Something unexpected and unwelcome.

He’d never been jealous of his brother. Over the years, Lucas had been called to take care of Davis’ cast-offs many times. Sometimes, in their desperation, the women would try to seduce Lucas as a way to stay within reach of his brother.

It was a side effect of being the one responsible for cleaning up after Davis. Lucas had accepted this scenario long ago, but he was getting damned tired of it.

Why did he feel bitterness now? He’d known of her obsession for a very long time. Maybe it had something to do with that question he would have entered into a hell-deal to have answered? The one about how her nipples tasted?

Yeah, that’s the one.

They’d smelled of sandalwood but tasted of sweet wine. If he could bottle that up, he’d never need another vintage for the rest of his life.

He threw the champagne bottle into the ice. It was time for something stronger.

Wrapped tightly in the robe, Veronica endured a choppy boat ride over to the yacht. She couldn’t remember where Lucas’ room was, but a nice steward escorted her right to it.

Once inside, she headed straight to the bathroom, locked the door and stepped into a hot shower. She soaped up every inch of her skin including the disloyal nipples, which still ached to the touch.

“Traitors.” She scrubbed them harder. “You’re supposed to be Team Davis. Remember?”

And yet her brain wouldn’t cooperate either. It kept bringing up Lucas in her thoughts.

His lips.

His tongue.

His fingers curled through her hair.

“Enough!” She growled into the stream of water.

Finally refreshed and slathered in aloe lotion, she slowly unlocked and opened the door. Thankfully, the cabin was still empty. He hadn’t returned. Her underwear and cocktail dress from last night lay on the bed, cleaned and folded neatly.

She mentally thanked the universe for having her own underwear, but she’d still have to continue wearing borrowed clothes. Reviewing the items she’d been given earlier, she chose a blue blouse with sheer sleeves and white capris.

Pulling on a pair of heeled sandals she found buried in the closet, Veronica left the room. She didn’t want to be here when Lucas returned. It was the first time since she’d stormed out of the tent that she thought about the slap. She was certain he wouldn’t let her forget about that.

It wasn’t too hard to find the lounge one deck up. All she had to do was follow the sound of laughter and the scent of cigars. The far wall of the lounge was removed, allowing in a generous supply of sunlight and salty air. Thankfully, the bar was in the shadows. She couldn’t help but remember how Lucas had found her on the sky deck, slumped over the bar and asleep.