Luke (12 page)

"Sorry," she murmured.

Because he couldn't help himself—she smelled so good, felt so good—he danced his mouth along the column of her throat. "Why?"

"Because—" This ended in a little whimper when he opened his mouth and took a little bite out of her. Her hands fisted in the front of his shirt and she arched a little closer, letting out a soft, muffled groan when he did it again. "Luke—"

"You taste so good," he murmured. "So damn good. I've been thinking about this for weeks." And he let his mouth slide up, over her jaw to the very corner of her lips.

"Oh my," said a female voice behind them. "Excuse us…"

Luke looked up at the women, the nurses he'd just spoken to inside. They stood there, jaws open. "Good evening," he said.

"Evening," they said together, still staring. Then, as if they suddenly realized they were doing so, they jumped, looked at each other, and hurried off.

"My God, he's got a
girlfriend,"
came back in an amazed whisper on the night air. "Maybe he
is
a nice guy."

Luke laughed softly and shook his head. "I really did have a PR problem."

"Did?"

He looked down into Faith's eyes. "Before you."

She wore a lacy, cream-colored tank top and a long, flowing, colorful gauzy skirt that flew around her ankles when she moved. He wanted to gobble her up whole. "Never mind," he said, hugging her. "How did you know what time I'd get off?"

"I didn't. I … came to see a patient."

Oh. Oh, yeah. Her universe didn't revolve around him. He laughed at himself—what else could he do?—and backed up a step, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Of course."

She bit her lower lip, looking so pretty by moonlight he had to put his hands in his pockets so they'd behave. "But seeing you is a bonus," she said.

"Right."

Her mouth curved, her eyes lit with teasing, which normally he'd enjoy since there wasn't a single person in his life who ever teased him—except for his brother Matt, but that was closer to torture than teasing.

"It is," she insisted. "The best bonus of the night, right after that sugar-free brownie I consumed for lunch."

"You've been avoiding me like the plague since I made you check your blood sugar, so don't talk to me of bonuses. And you'd better have made sure it was really sugar-free—sometimes those labels—"

"It
was,"
she insisted. "And maybe I've been avoiding you because of embarrassment."

"Embarrassment? Why?"

With the teasing light out of her eyes now, she lifted her hands and let out a disparaging sound. "I'm supposedly a health professional. How does it look that I missed keeping track of my own health? I'm borderline diabetic for God's sake, and brushed it off as the flu."

"You've been busy."

"And stupid.
Stupid,"
she repeated when he opened his mouth to deny it. "And at the very least I owe you a thank-you."

"That, I'll take," he decided, his body quivering to hopeful attention when she stepped close and slid her hands up his chest. When she leaned in for a kiss, he wrapped her in his arms and prepared to be transported to heaven.

But after a short, sweet peck she pulled back.

"That's it?" he asked.

She let out a laugh at his disappointment. "I thought that was a very nice thank-you."

"Truthfully? I was hoping for nicer." He once again slipped his hands into his pockets. It was that or trace them over every inch of her. "So what happened to your tire?"

"I have no idea. I'll have to call AAA since I don't have a spare."

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to her, listening as she argued with the dispatcher over the wait time.

"Have them tow it to your mechanic's place," he said. "I'll take you home."

When she handed him the phone back, he linked their fingers. "Let's have dinner first." He nodded to the café across the street. "The food's guaranteed to clog your arteries, but it's delicious."

She looked at the café, then at him. "Dinner?"

"Dinner."

"As in … a date?"

Now he had to laugh. "Pretty tame given the sort of relationship you once proposed to me, don't you think?"

Now her green, green eyes darkened. "That other relationship that I proposed … I thought maybe we should just forget it."

"You thought wrong."

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth. "Really?"

"Really." She licked her bottom lip in an utterly unconsciously hungry gesture that nearly did him in. "Faith … don't do that unless we're skipping dinner and going straight to bed."

She did it again, sweeping her tongue over her lower lip.

He stepped close, put his hands on her hips.

She bit his lower lip.

"Okay," he groaned. "So you don't want dinner."

"Dinner means conversation." She very carefully arched a little closer so that his eyes crossed with lust. "Dinner means getting to know each other, but we've agreed, when you're done at the clinic, we're done. So getting to know each other will only lead to pain." Her hips hugged his. "I'm not interested in pain, Luke." Another subtle glide of those hips. "Not at all."

There was a very good reason why her words didn't make any sense to him, a reason having to do with maybe wanting more than just sex, but that couldn't be. All he'd ever wanted from a woman was a temporary, hot, good time. He might have tried to think that through, but she kept writhing against him, and with her wrapped around him like plastic wrap, his brain cells were malfunctioning left and right.

"Luke?" She looked at him with sleepy, sexy eyes. "Are you ready?"

His hands couldn't get enough of her, and he dipped down slightly to better align their bodies, which wrenched a groan from each of them. "Oh, yeah, I'm ready." The material of her tank top was thin enough that her nipples, hardened and pouting, were clearly defined. The sight nearly brought him to his knees. With one reverent finger he reached out and ran a finger over the scooped neckline. "But we're still going to eat first."

He insisted on that, no matter how much she protested. He took them both across the street and fed her while they waited for the tow truck. When she had food inside her and the tow truck had taken her car, he looked at her.
"Now,
Faith. My place. It's closer."

"Good." She got into his car. "How fast does this baby go?"

Somehow he gathered his wits and got them out of the parking lot. At the corner he stopped for a red light and then made the mistake of looking over at her.

She strained toward him, held back by the seat belt. Her eyes were lit with fire. The pulse at the base of her throat beat erratically. Her mouth was open, just a little, as if she had to have it open to breathe. Wayward strands of hair framed her face, and her nipples still pressed against her top.

She looked thoroughly tousled and ready for more ravaging. He closed his eyes and groaned. "You keep looking at me like that and we're not going to make it home."

"Luke."

He opened his eyes. Big mistake. She was smiling, and it was the very smile of sin. "I turn you on," she whispered, obviously empowered by the knowledge, which made him all the harder.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he swore roughly, and when the light didn't change, he reached for her, held her face, slid his fingers into her glorious hair and lost himself in one of their patented long, wet kisses he could have happily drowned in.

"Oh," she breathed in helpless surprise when they came up for air. "Oh my."

She was sweet, so damned sweet he wanted to never let her go. "Faith—"

With a hungry murmur she unhooked her seat belt and plastered herself even closer, and he was lost. Again, he cupped her breast, and they both caught their breath. Her perfect, mouth-watering nipple poked hopefully into his palm, and he tugged gently at it with his fingers, making her whimper in pleasure, making him want to whimper, too. He tugged again and she shifted her thighs restlessly, making him ache to be between them.

God, she was soft and giving, and under his hands her flesh was warm and curvy. He couldn't get enough. He was afraid he could never get enough. Even with her hand settled possessively over his heart, her other doing its best to see him bald before he hit middle age, he needed more. Sliding one hand down the material of her skirt until he found smooth, sleek leg, he'd nearly honed in on heaven when a honk from behind them made them both jerk.

"Green light," she gasped with a breathless little laugh.

For a heartbeat he could only stare at her. It was painful, physically painful, to let her go, and for a moment he actually forgot how to drive, but another honk from behind them galvanized him into action and he managed to get them headed in the right direction.

At the next red light, she let out another breathless laugh and held up her hand when he reached for her. "We'll kill each other."

He slid his palm up her leg. "Yes, but that's the idea…" Her eyes were huge, her mouth swollen and thoroughly kissed free of any gloss. Her hair had rioted beneath his hungry fingers, clinging to her cheek, jaw and throat in a thick, curly mass that made him want to sink back into her. "My God, you take my breath away."

Her eyes lit, and as she had before, she fisted her hands in his shirt and hauled him close, putting her mouth to his. "Drive," she said when she pulled back. She smiled into his eyes and let out a slow breath. "Drive fast."

"Driving fast," he muttered and put the car in gear. "Driving really fast."

Chapter 9

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B
y some miracle they made it to Luke's house without another red light. He leapt out of the car, came around for Faith, and tugged her out and into his arms.

After another long, breathless kiss, he pulled back and ran a finger over her wet lower lip. "I love your mouth. I can't get enough of it."

She'd never had a man say such things to her, never. It spun her head, and that, she figured a little recklessly, shamelessly, was okay. For the next month and a half, this man and all the wild sexuality that rolled off him in waves, belonged to her.

"Come on," he whispered, and led her to his front door. While he fumbled for the right key, looking adorably flustered and hot and just a little frustrated, she smiled and rimmed his ear with her finger.

He dropped his keys, swore, then bent for them. When he straightened, he snagged an arm snug around her, pinning her arms to her sides so he could get them into his house.

She leaned in and sucked on the lobe of his ear.

"Stop that," he gasped. Kicking the door shut behind them, he planted her against the wood and let out a groaning laugh at her feigned docile expression. "Okay, don't stop anything, but I can't be held responsible if you drive me so crazy we don't make it to the bed."

Her heart was drumming so fast and loud it was a miracle it didn't burst right out of her chest. Holding his gaze, she leaned over and slowly, purposely, bit his lower lip.

With a groan, he captured her mouth in a kiss so carnal and fierce, Faith thought she might spontaneously combust right there on the spot. He had her pressed up against the door, his mouth on hers, kissing her as if he was a man dying of thirst.

She'd once wondered what would happen when he lost control, and she was about to find out. Knowing that she'd done that to him, driven him over the edge, swamped her. Power and need swept through her, power and a need so crippling her legs buckled.

He caught her, his mouth still on hers, his hands running wildly over her body. Then, holding her head, he raised his mouth from hers a fraction and stared down, his eyes blazing. He stared into her eyes, then down at her lips, before changing the angle of her head and settling his mouth over hers again. When she danced her tongue to his, he groaned deep in his throat, the sound fueling the fire within her.

"Oh, my … Luke—"

"Yeah." His fingers left her hair, sweeping down her body, over her breasts, and she nearly cried.
Now,
she thought, now he'd give her relief from the wild, desperate need flooding through her. "Luke … please."

"I know. I know." His thumbs rasped over her nipples and she did cry out, covering his hands with hers, holding them over her aching breasts. He groaned again, but managed to disengage his fingers from her, leaving her nearly sobbing in frustration.

But those talented, greedy hands didn't leave her entirely. They slid down, down her body until his rough fingertips got to about mid-thigh. Then, holding her gaze, he started bunching up the hem of her skirt, crushing it in the palm of his hands until his fingers brushed against bare skin. Still looking into her eyes, he slid his hands beneath her panties and cupped her bottom. His fingers squeezed, dug in, and then he hauled her up so she could wrap her legs around his hips.

That left the hottest, wettest, neediest part of her nudging the most impressive erection she'd ever imagined. With a moan low in her throat, she slid her fingers into his hair and thunked her head back against the door as he slowly rocked against her in a rhythm as old as time.

Leaning in, he kissed her throat, her collarbone, her breast through her tank top. "Lift it," he demanded hoarsely, and groaned when she did just that, watching her fingers intently as she brushed them over her own flesh.

"Like this?" She exposed her pale pink bra, gasping as he continued to slowly thrust his sex against the damp, hot place at the apex of her thighs.

"Oh, yeah, like that." Another aching thrust. "Open your bra, Faith."

Obeying, she unhooked the latch in front and looked into his fiery eyes.

"More," he said, "all of it," and she slowly peeled it open.

There was something incredibly erotic, astonishingly intimate about having his hands holding her thighs open to his, having his hips moving against her in a slow, tight, rocking motion, in a perfect imitation of what she really wanted him to be doing to her, all while she undressed herself to his hungry, hot gaze.

Bending his head, he reverently stroked his cheek against her bared breast, then opened his mouth and captured it, taking a gentle bite that he promptly soothed with a stroke of his tongue before he sucked her into his mouth, hard.