Lucifer's Lover (12 page)

She had shrugged into her coat and was heading out the door when she felt the hand on her arm, pulling her back.

“I’ll drive you,” Luke told her.

“No.”

“You’re going to stand out there in the cold and try to hail a passing taxi? It’s at least twenty below out there and no taxi is going to come by way out here unless you phone them.”

It was undefeatable logic. “All right,” she said dully.

He pushed her forward again, toward his car and settled her into the passenger seat. The car was still slightly warm from their trip out to the restaurant. They hadn’t been in the restaurant for very long at all.

He sat behind the wheel, started the engine and looked at her. “Where am I taking you?”

She gave him the address and a few critical directions and then turned and stared out the window. She didn’t think she could talk to him right now.

He didn’t seem any more inclined to break the silence and the longer it stretched, the more the tension in her stomach twisted tighter and tighter. She couldn’t see a way out of this if she couldn’t convince Luke to turn the promotion down and right now that seemed extremely unlikely. For a man with less ambition than the janitor, Luke was hanging on to this promotion with all the doggedness of a Saint Bernard. It made no sense.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“Why what?”

“Why is this promotion so near and dear to you? You’ve never shown the slightest interest in the corporate ladder before.”

It was a long moment before he answered. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“As you’ve already admitted you’re a liar,” she added.

He didn’t answer but she sensed her words had registered, anyway.

He pulled the car up at the house and switched off the engine.

“I’ll be fine from here,” she told him.

“Indulge my New York paranoia,” he said, getting out. He followed her down the path to the private entrance to her side of the house and stood by while she unlocked the door. She switched on the light to her sitting room and swung the door wide so he could see the room was empty and innocent.

He stepped back and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Is there any way to talk this out, Lindsay?”

“According to you, no.”

“An overwhelming force meets an immovable object.” He shook his head almost sadly.

“It might help if you could tell me this reason of yours I wouldn’t believe.”

He considered for a moment. “Do you want to tell me yours?” he asked.

Alarm prodded her. “No.”

“Then, no, I don’t think I can either.”

Frustration touched her. “You’re so stubborn!”

“Ditto, Lynds.” But he didn’t sound stubborn. He sounded…tired. Sad, even.

“You’re going away, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.

“No.”

“I don’t mean from Deerfoot Falls.”

“Then yes, I think I am. I think…you want it that way. I think I do.”

She couldn’t speak. Desperate sadness touched her. She wanted to reach out, hold him back but knew she had nothing to hold him back with.

He cupped her cheek with his warm, big hand, the way he had at the end of their date. She knew it was his way of saying farewell. She kept motionless her breath caught and quiet.

His hand grew still against her cheek.

“Ah, hell…” he growled, his voice low and stepped close to her. Before she guessed what he intended, his lips came down on hers and the sweet-sour rush of pleasure was coursing through her, stealing her breath, stealing her senses. She was vaguely aware of being borne backward and the door closing behind them but she was too busy delighting in his taste, his hands on her body, discarding her coat, sliding into her hair and holding her head while his lips plundered and explored. He trailed his lips down her throat and brushed her hair out of the way before tasting her skin at the base of her throat. The sensation was delightful and she heard him groan with his own delight.

It brought her back to her senses enough to try to push him away. “Luke, no.”

He straightened. “What is it?”

“Yes, what is this?” she said. “What part does this fall into?” Tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them away furiously, determined not to turn that particularly feminine tool upon him. “Does this fall into the part that is truth, Luke? Or the part that was all lies?”

He sighed and picked up her hand. Gently he spread her fingers and kissed the palm. “This is truth,” he said, resting her fingertips against his lips. He dropped his coat from his shoulders and pushed aside his jacket and slid her hand against his chest. She could feel his heart thundering against her hand. “This is truth,” he said quietly.

Her tears did fall, then. “Thank God,” she whispered.

He brushed them away with his thumb. “Perhaps you should send me away, anyway, Lindsay. I’ll turn your life upside down if you don’t.”

“I’ll risk it,” she told him.

“I’m already doing it. You just had a small sample of coming attractions, tonight.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe you,” she told him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him toward her. “You’re not going to start running off at the mouth again, are you, Pierse?”

“I might.” He kissed the corner of her mouth.

She slid her hand around the back of his head, her fingers burrowing through the thick, luxuriant mass of his hair, the ends tickling the sides of her fingers. She gently guided his lips to her throat, closing her eyes as they again found the sensitive spot they had zeroed in on before. “I’ll just have to keep your mouth too busy for talking,” she declared, her voice husky in reaction to what his hands and mouth were doing.

He didn’t answer. His hand was on her thigh, sliding up her flank, smoothing its way over her hip. At her waist, it paused for a minute before slipping higher, contouring itself around her breast. She couldn’t help but arch back, opening herself to him and she heard him groan. His lips seared an imprint on her breast, just above the top of her dress, his hair brushing her skin, sending sparks of excitement flitting through her. She realized he was holding her up and she was bent over his arm, ripe for plundering.

His groan seemed to touch off a wall of heat that rushed through her, consuming her senses. She felt the tips of his fingers at her dress and realized they were trembling against her flesh.

She knew what he intended and found herself arching harder, welcoming it. “Yes,” she whispered.

It was all the encouragement he needed. His hand bunched and the dress was ripped from her body, revealing her stocking tops, suspenders and that was all. Luke became very still. “Dear god…” His voice was a mockery of itself, hoarse, breathless.

His hands were at her back, behind her legs, lifting her.

“Where?” And the urgency in his voice brooked no argument.

She pointed toward the bedroom and he shouldered the door aside and laid her on the bed. He straddled her hips with his knees and shrugged his jacket off. In the light spilling through from the sitting room, his eyes were glittering darkly. His hands fitted around her waist, his strong thumbs almost touching each other. They smoothed their way over her stomach and she quivered in response. His hands slid higher and rounded themselves over her breasts, tugging and caressing the nipples. Deep, frenetic excitement caught at her, traveled her body, invaded and drugged her mind. Her hips lifted in response and she heard Luke gasp.

“This was no disguise,” he said roughly.

“No.” She could barely whisper it.

“No more disguises,” he declared, his voice rough.

His mouth, hot and moist, caught at her nipple and her response faded from her mind under the onslaught of hot, delicious pleasure. She felt his thigh pressing between her legs and opened them invitingly, moving restlessly against the weight of him. She pulled at his shirt, reached for his belt, wordlessly stripping him of encumbrances.

Then his flesh was against hers and his hand, big and strong, was cupping her hip. She could feel him, hot and hard, against her and suddenly she couldn’t wait, could not stand the emptiness.

She pulled him to her. He paused at the very brink, quivering, denying her, as he covered his heated flesh in a protective sheath, then drew her to him, his eyes burning into her soul

“Look at me,” he demanded.

She looked up at him, at the dark eyes above her. She was caught up in his mesmerizing gaze. He held her focus as he slid into her and the sensation was so perfect, so fulfilling, that she tensed in reaction, clenching around him, a tight bow of pleasure.

Then his mouth was at her breast and he was moving, slow thrusts that caressed every sensitive inch of her. There was no mercy in his assault on her senses. She was an entity of spiraling delight and she was encouraged by Luke’s growl of pleasure and his quickening movements.

The climax was mutual, locking them together for endless moments, as their bodies and minds hung suspended at the peak.

After, they lay entwined side by side, still joined, satiated and drunk with the after effects.

Luke kissed her temple. “Why can’t it happen like this?”

She shook her head a little, puzzled.

“At the restaurant. You said it’s not going to count if it happens any other way. What’s not going to count? Why isn’t this way just fine? It’s fine by me.”

“
This
way, you mean?” she asked, moving her hips a little.

He smiled, a slow, lazy grin that warmed her and made her toes curl in anticipation. “Well,
this
way is really fine. And there’s every other way too. Infinite variety.” He picked up her hand and smoothed the fingers out, then kissed the palm slowly, his tongue tickling the skin. “Lots of ways,” he murmured, “and I’ll enjoy all of them with you.”

She could feel her body already stirring again and moved against him. He caught his breath, his eyes narrowing. “I assume that means yes,” he said, lifting himself up over her once again.

“Yes,” she said with delight.

Later, while he propped his head up on one hand, he lazily drew patterns on her body with his fingers, making her quiescent nerves twitch with lingering sensitivity. Lindsay was in a dreamy state of euphoria, her mind still hazed from lovemaking. Luke’s hand was enough to keep her in a state of longing.

Then his hand became still. “You distracted me,” he said, trying to sound irritated.

“I can do it again, if you want.”

“Not right now. I want to live until morning.” He caressed her cheek. “Not that the distraction was less than adequate, of course.”

“Thank you. I took a course.”

He blinked. “A joke. Was that a joke I just heard?”

“I believe so. Not that I’m any judge when there’s a master craftsman in the room.”

He shook his head. “Followed by a compliment. I should distract you more often, Lynds.” He frowned. “You did it again. What was I saying?”

“You were commenting on the adequacy of my distraction. More than, I believe you said.”

“No, I mean what was I saying before the distraction itself?”

She turned her head a little, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t remember.”

He was silent for a long moment. She felt his hand under her chin, turning her face back to look at him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I can’t help not remembering.”

His eyes had taken on the dark, glittering intensity she remembered from before they had made love the first time. He shook his head a little. “You remember, Lynds. You just don’t want to discuss it. So tell me why can’t I take the directorship? Tell me how it will screw up your life if I do and maybe we can work it out.”

“We can’t.”

“Tell me,” he coaxed. “You know I’m a good listener at the very least.”

It was so tempting to tell him. The need to explain herself, so that someone would understand all that she had achieved and everything she was working toward, was almost overwhelming.

But it was the small, nagging doubt that Luke wouldn’t understand that stopped her. She couldn’t risk being belittled, or worse, seeing condescension in his eyes.

“Tell me,” he murmured and kissed her forehead. “I won’t laugh. I won’t tell anyone else.”

She closed her eyes. It was easier that way. “I have to make general manager of the hotel by my birthday.”

“
Have to
?” There was no incredulity there. Just simple interest.

“Yes. And it doesn’t count if they take PR away from me and give it to you. It’s all laid out, you see. Director of marketing—including PR—then general manager by twenty-eight, head of the PR department at head office in New York by thirty-two, vice president by thirty-seven, CEO by forty-three.” She’d had the stats memorized years ago and rattled them off with very little thought.

Luke was silent and she opened her eyes a little, alarmed at the silence. His eyes were narrowed.

“That’s…a pretty well defined career path, Lynds. What do you get if you pull it off? A lifetime supply of terry-towel bathrobes?”