Chapter Seventeen
With relief, Luke saw Miranda’s old silver Toyota drive down the street and pull into his driveway late Friday afternoon. She was twenty minutes late and he’d been afraid she’d had second thoughts. It had taken some planning on both their parts to organize this date—this sex date—and his anticipation level was through the roof.
He opened the front door as she jumped out of the car and hurried toward him, clad in a buttoned cotton shirt over a short denim skirt. “I’m sorry,” she said as she came up the steps. “As I was leaving Glory’s, Ariana decided to throw a TTT. There’ve been way fewer of them recently, but of course she had to pick that moment. I stayed to help settle her down.”
“She’s okay?” He ushered her inside and closed the door.
“Just doing her ‘me-me-me’ thing. Center of the universe, and not at all pleased that Mommy was deserting her.” She put her purse on the table by the door and shook her head vigorously, sending blond curls flying. “But we got her distracted and I’m sure she’ll be fine. And I’m here!” She beamed up at him and went up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. Glancing around, she asked, “Everything went according to plan with the boys?”
“Yup. Mom and Forbes are feeding them and taking them to a movie. The theater’s showing Toy Story and the boys haven’t seen it on the big screen. We have at least three hours before they get back. Which is nowhere enough time for everything I’d like to do to you.”
“Ooh, I want to hear about that.” Her fingers went to the top button of her shirt. “But I also want to tell you about girls’ day in Vancouver yesterday.”
He’d much rather talk about sex—he’d much rather have sex—but women approached things in their own mysterious way. “Was the shopping trip a success?”
“We had so much fun.” She was still unbuttoning, which was encouraging, but she didn’t let the front of her shirt pull apart. “We all got great dresses, and we laughed so much. Drank too much wine, but who cares because no one was driving. Or flying. I mean, Aaron was flying, but he just dropped us off and picked us up again, he didn’t spend the day with us.”
She’d finished the buttons and held the shirt closed with one hand. “It wasn’t just dress and shoe shopping, though. Eden needed fancy lingerie for her honeymoon. And the store we went to, wow, it was incredible.” Now she let go of her shirt and in one slow, utterly feminine gesture, shrugged it off her shoulders.
She wore a semi-sheer, lacy black top with a built-in bra that molded her breasts and accentuated her cleavage. Tiny straps crossed her shoulders, tempting him to pull them down.
“Wow.” Not brilliant, but his brain wasn’t engaged.
“I blew my budget for the month, but I couldn’t resist. Everyone bought something.”
He could care less about “everyone.” Just as he was going to suggest they adjourn to the bedroom, his attention was caught by her hands as they moved to her waist.
But again she surprised him, this time asking, “Where are the dogs?”
“Honey’s out in the backyard. Pigpen’s having a weekend sleepover with his owners.” The elderly couple’s son and his wife with the dog allergy had taken an anniversary trip to Victoria.
“Good.” With tantalizing slowness, Miranda undid the button at the waist of her jeans-style skirt, and then eased down the zipper. With a hip shimmy, she sent the brief garment tumbling to the floor.
The black top was a camisole. With it she wore skimpy black lace panties that left just enough to the imagination to drive him crazy with lust.
“You like?” She raised her arms above her head and made a slow, seductive pivot—revealing that her undies were a thong that bared her creamy buttocks.
“I like,” he croaked. “If I liked it any better, I’d . . .” Nope, he didn’t have a clue where to go from there. With a sole thought in his brain—his little brain, which wasn’t actually all that little right now—he grabbed her hand and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”
He had thought they might start with a glass of wine, but no way was that happening now, with her in that provocative outfit. It was going to take every minute of those three hours to properly appreciate her sexy beauty.
She didn’t seem to mind a bit, holding back only to grab her bag. He wasn’t insulted, knowing her phone would be in it, her lifeline to her daughter. His own cell was in his pocket.
Once they were in his bedroom, he quickly peeled his tee over his head and attacked the fastenings of his khaki shorts.
“Luke?”
Miranda’s voice stopped him, and he saw she was glancing around, looking nervous now. “Was this your bedroom? With Candace, I mean?”
He shook his head. “It used to be the guest room. It was too hard being in the same room, after . . .”
She fiddled with a strand of hair. “And you’re okay with this? With us?”
“I am.” He’d spent some sleepless hours arriving at that conclusion, but he knew Candace would want him to move on. To be happy again. “Are you?”
“Now I am.” She smiled and it lit her eyes.
“Good.” He shoved his shorts down his hips, debated whether to take off his navy boxers as well, and then thought that might be rushing things. Not that the cotton concealed much, with the way the front was tented.
“Mmm,” she purred. “Very nice, Luke.”
He never thought much about his body, but he was glad she approved. His parents’ genes had given him a decent physique and he’d always been active. Large vet work took even more strength and stamina than wrangling the twins, so he was in good shape.
He ran his hands down Miranda’s arms in a long, gentle caress, caught her hands, and stepped forward until the fronts of their bodies brushed. With their clasped hands at their sides, he tilted his head and leaned down to kiss her.
She met him, the slight friction of her body against his making him even harder. Then they were kissing, at first with a touch of tentativeness, but that didn’t last long.
He was hot, fiery hot, the blood rushing through his veins, but he controlled his body, only letting his tongue demonstrate his passion as it hungrily parried hers.
She whimpered and rose on her toes, pressing down on his hands for leverage, and then hooking one leg around him like she was trying to climb him. Swiveling her hips, she ground against his erection. “I want you,” she panted. “I don’t want foreplay.”
“I’m not sure I’m capable of foreplay,” he replied honestly. “Not this time.”
“Good, because I’m so ready.” Her blue eyes were open wide, the pupils dilated. “Fuck me, Luke.”
That f-word, the first he’d heard from the grown-up Miranda, tipped him over the edge. He was powerless to do anything but obey her.
He thrust her away from him and pushed her onto the bed. She landed partway across it, on her back on the chocolate-brown comforter, her legs dangling over the side. He shoved his boxers down and took a condom from the drawer by the bed.
As he sheathed himself, she braced herself on her elbows, head raised watching him. “I’ll take off my cami,” she offered.
Damn, but she was stunning. It wasn’t just the perfection of her body, but the contrasts: pale skin, black silk and lace, golden hair, and those eyes—dark denim now, with the huge pupils—all showcased against a deep brown background. She could have posed for an ad for lingerie or perfume, but instead she was his. All his.
“Leave it on. Leave everything on. This time.” He stepped between her legs, driven to do the exact thing she’d demanded of him.
Trying to gentle his impatient fingers, he slid them inside the damp crotch of her thong and stroked her, opening folds that were slick and hot. She hadn’t lied about being ready. He didn’t yank off the flimsy garment but instead pulled the crotch aside and, holding his throbbing cock in his other hand, stepped closer. Glancing at her face to ensure she really wanted this, he was met by glittering eyes and the harsh command, “Now. Please, now.”
As he guided himself to her entrance, her legs came up to wrap around his hips, and then he was sliding in, feeling the amazing pressure and heat all around him. My God but he’d missed this.
Miranda’s arms braced her body, letting her raise her butt and hips off the bed, aligning their bodies perfectly. His hands were free, though. As he pumped in and out of her, light-headed with how good it felt, he leaned forward to caress the buds of her nipples, which poked against the black silk of her cami.
He tried to slow his strokes, but it was almost impossible. The drive to let go, to thrust faster, to reach climax was close to irresistible. Especially when she thrashed her head back and forth on the comforter, her eyes slitted, her cheeks flushed.
Knowing he couldn’t last much longer, needing to bring her with him, to give her the same release he craved, he touched the place where their bodies joined. Finding her swollen clit, he rubbed it gently.
“Yes,” she cried. “Oh, yes. Yes, I . . . oh, God!” Her eyes flared, glittered, and she said, “Luke, yes!” She convulsed then, in wrenching spasms.
Those spasms—and the fact that she’d looked at him and spoken his name—were his undoing. With a groan, he surrendered to his body’s need and reached his own climax. It was so forceful that it hurt, and yet it was the best kind of hurt. His four-year dry spell was over. He and Miranda were lovers.
Her legs loosened their grip on his hips and he eased out of her as her body dropped down to the bed, legs flopping over the side as if she’d lost all strength. He stepped away to deal with the condom. When he returned, she hadn’t moved. Her eyes were closed and she looked boneless, like a discarded toy. And that was the very last thing she was. This was the first time in his life he’d made love to anyone other than Candace, and Miranda had made it so amazing. So natural.
He sat beside her, smoothed damp curls back from her face, and gently touched his lips to hers. “Hey. You okay?”
Her eyes drifted open, looking unfocused. “Okay,” she repeated. “Oh yeah, I’m most definitely okay.” She spoke slowly, dreamily, and her chest heaved as she sucked in breath.
Did she mean just okay? He’d been so carried away, he hadn’t felt a twinge of performance anxiety, but now he thought of the other men she’d been with. He knew she’d climaxed with him, but he’d been pretty selfish.
“Man, that was really something,” she said.
Was she being generous or honest? “Given the total lack of finesse,” he said ruefully.
“Finesse is overrated.” She blinked. “No, wait, I take that back. Feel free to try finesse. I mean, there’s a time for all of it, right? Finesse and, uh, lack of finesse.” She groaned. “Sorry. Not feeling too articulate.”
He took that as a good sign. But, eyeing her position, legs dangling off the bed, he said, “You can’t be comfortable.”
“Can’t I? I can’t even feel most of my body.”
“I’ll feel it for you.” He skimmed his hand over the front of her camisole and her nipples perked to life again. Amazingly, considering how fiercely he’d just come, so did his cock.
* * *
How had she ever thought this man was anything but supremely sexy? Gazing up at Luke as he teased her body back to life, admiring the firmness of his muscles, watching his body stir with arousal again, Miranda thought she must have been crazy.
Though her well-satiated body felt as limp as overcooked fettucine, she struggled to hike herself backward so her legs no longer hung off the bed. She reached for a pillow and slid it under her head.
Luke came down beside her, lying on his side, brushing the flat of his hand over her silk-clad nipples. “I wonder what these breasts look like?” he said, his gaze on the front of her cami.
“Why don’t you find out?” she teased. Earlier, she’d worried that he might be all angsty about having sex with someone other than Candace, but thankfully he seemed fine, totally engaged with her and not suffering with memories or misplaced guilt.
“I’m enjoying the anticipation.” He lifted his head and winked. “This time, there will be foreplay.”
“You bet there will.”
He frowned slightly. “I’m sorry about the first time. It had been so long and I got carried away. I promise, the next time will be better.”
“Luke.” She rolled her eyes. Was he insecure about his sexual prowess, this man who, allegedly, had experimented with the Kama Sutra? “It was perfect. I was in a hurry, too.” But now the Kama Sutra was in her brain and she felt a tiny worry that he might find her inadequate in bed. She’d been with her fair share of guys, but the sex hadn’t been especially adventuresome. “The Kama Sutra thing,” she ventured, “I don’t really know what that’s all about.”
His frown transformed to a grin. “Got you curious, did I?”
“It’s a bunch of kinky positions, right? I’m not very experienced with that, but”—she tried out a wink of her own—“I’m ready and willing to learn.”
“Ah, Miranda.” He ran his finger along her collarbone, raising shivers of arousal. “The Kama Sutra and tantric sex are—”
“Tantric sex?” It came out as an embarrassing yelp. “You’re into that, too?”
“Annie again. She’s not your conventional mother-in-law. I hate to think what kind of books she’ll give the boys when they approach puberty.”
She had to laugh. “That is a little terrifying, isn’t it? But as long as you’re open with Caleb and Brandon, I’m sure they’ll be just fine.”
He grimaced. “Could we stop talking about the twins?”
“You’re the one who mentioned them.”
“Big mistake. They’re not going to have sex until they’re at least thirty, and that’s a very long way off. So I’m not going to think about it.”
She laughed again. “Believe me, I get it. But, to get back to present company, I turn twenty-eight in a few months and I’m hoping to have lots of sex before and after that.”
“I like that idea.”
His finger returned to her collarbone. His hands were everything she’d hoped they would be, deft and tender yet totally masculine.
“Tell me about tantric sex,” she requested.
“Well, you, uh, attune yourselves to each other. Synchronize breathing, gaze into each other’s eyes until you feel like your souls are merging. It’s more about that than about orgasm.”
“Not about orgasm? Luke, I guess I’m not very evolved because, you know—”
He cut her off, chuckling. “Yeah, I like the orgasms, too. The tantric thing is more for later in a relationship, when you know each other really well.”
“And are bored with orgasms? Is that even possible?”
He laughed. “I doubt it. No, it’s just something different. Variety. Annie says humans crave both stability and variety. In a long-term relationship, you have the stability. You can get variety from outside, like with different friends and—”
“Sex with other people?” she asked disbelievingly. Surely Annie didn’t advocate that.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” His fingers traced the lacy top of her cami, dipping into her cleavage. “I mean, it’s an option for some people but that’s not how I’m built.” His fingers stopped moving and he narrowed his eyes. “You?”
“If you’re not in a relationship, I mean if you’re just hooking up, then I don’t care about fidelity. But if it’s a real relationship, like you and me, then no. I’d hate the thought of you being with someone else.”
“Me too.” He caressed her again, sliding his fingers under the lace of her cami and over the upper curves of her breasts. “No, what I meant about variety outside the relationship is having some different friends and interests. Like you hanging out with Glory or going on that shopping day. Monday nights I get together with some friends and we shoot hoops. When it comes to sex, you can get variety within the relationship. Hence the books.”
“Okay, now I get it.”
“And yeah, the Kama Sutra has a bunch of different positions, all designed to find the best ways of giving both partners pleasure. But really, all you need to do is use your imagination, not be shy, and listen to your body.”
“Right now my body wishes you’d pull off my camisole.” Since she wasn’t supposed to be shy, she went on. “And apply your lips to my breasts.”
“That would be my pleasure.” He caught the lacy hem in both hands and gently tugged the fabric upward. “Look at how perfect you are,” he murmured as he bared her tummy, her rib cage, and finally her breasts.
She raised herself so he could slide the garment up farther, and lifted her arms as he pulled it over her head. In her opinion, her body was fine, decently slim and fit, but nothing special. The heated appreciation in his eyes told a different story. One she very much enjoyed reading.
His body was the perfect one. She wanted to touch him everywhere. Especially to clasp his now-sizable erection. “I’m listening to your body now,” she said, “and there’s a hard-on that would love some attention.”
“Very true.” His big hand clasped her hip, holding her down so she couldn’t reach for him. “But if it gets that attention, then the foreplay isn’t going to last long.”
“You’re not saying I’ll never be able to touch you?” she said with disbelief. Changing to a more seductive tone, she added, “Or suck you?” Her eyes were on his cock, and she noted how it twitched in response to her tease.
“God, no,” he said fervently. “I’d never say that. Just not now. Right now, think of me as a horny teenager, ready to blow at the slightest provocation. I promise, I really am a grown-up and I can be patient, at least once the first two or three orgasms are out of the way.”
A wicked notion hit her. He believed in equal relationships. So, in sex, he shouldn’t always be the boss. Pushing against the strength of his hand on her hip, she sat up, twisted her body, and before he knew what had hit him, she fastened her lips around the head of his erection.
“Jesus, Miranda,” he gasped. “Oh, man, that feels . . .” He tugged on her hair. “Stop it or I won’t last.”
She raised her head only enough to say, “Don’t want you to,” and then she went to work with her tongue, lips, and hands, getting to know every silky-smooth inch of him, all of it throbbing with need and power. Teasing swirls, firm strokes, pulsing suction, she gave it all to him.
His fingers remained woven through her hair, but he no longer tried to pull her away. Nor did he guide her action. It was more like he was hanging on for a wild ride.
Everything she did turned her on, too. Listening to her body, she knew she was selfish enough to want to climax, too, and with him inside her. When she could feel that he was right on the edge, she freed him long enough to demand, “Condom” and stretch out her hand.
He shifted position to reach for one, and she skimmed off her thong. She sheathed him, careful despite her impatience. Not wanting him to explode before she could come with him.
And then, her body trembling with arousal, she swung her leg over his hips. She saw his face, the feverish glazed eyes, the burning cheeks. Guessing she must look just as crazed, she held his gaze as she reached down to grasp and hold him as she lowered herself, taking him in.
Her body rippled, pulsed, and she began to rise and fall, riding him, grinding down against him, angling so that his erection rubbed her clit. He groaned and his hips rose, thrusting hard, and then he was coming and she was, too, explosions rocking her core.
* * *
Luke hadn’t felt this good in a very long time. His body was so drained that he might never walk again, but as long as Miranda was here in bed with him, who cared?
They had been making love in various ways for more than two hours. Probably it was just as well that his mom and Forbes would be back with the boys in not much more than half an hour. If he and Miranda had sex one more time, it might kill him.
He was flat on his back with her curled against him, her head tucked between his chin and shoulder, her hair a soft tickle against his skin. She wasn’t Candace and yet she fit just right, which was a relief, a blessing, and downright incredible.
Her scent was rich in his nostrils: sweaty sex intermingled with delicate flowers plus a hint of chocolate. “Have I sold you on black cherry ice cream?” he asked. Part of that long, drawn-out lovemaking had involved him doing his best to persuade her of the merits of his favorite ice cream, topped with chocolate sauce—especially when the treat was spread on assorted body parts. There’d been a lot of giggling, reminding him of when they’d first discussed sex, and how the concept of laughter during lovemaking had seemed foreign to her. He loved giving her experiences that other men hadn’t.
“I may be coming around. But you know how it is when you’re trying a new food,” she teased. “Sometimes it takes more than once before you get hooked.”
He chuckled. “That can definitely be arranged.”
She made a satisfied “mmm” sound, pressed a kiss to his chest, and brought her left arm up across his ribs.
“That perfume you wear, is it lily of the valley?”
“Wow. Most guys can’t tell one flower from another. Do you like it?”
“It grows in Mom’s garden and I’ve always liked it. The smell, and those simple, bell-like white flowers.”
“It’s not perfume, it’s an oil that Di makes from the real flowers.”
“It suits you. Feminine but not cloying.” He liked this, the intimacy of lying together and getting to know each other in a new way. Idly he traced the dragon tattoo that covered much of her forearm. “I remember this dragon from school. You must’ve been really young when you got it done.”
“It was part of my tough girl image,” she said flippantly. But then, a moment later, she went on. “Okay, that’s true. But there’s more to it, something no one else knows but Aaron.”
Would she trust him with her secret? “I’d like to hear about it,” he said quietly.
She pulled back a little so she could look at him, and serious blue-gray eyes searched his. Then she glanced down at her arm, drawing his gaze with hers, and turned her arm over to reveal the underside where the tail of the dragon whipped across her wrist. She caught his hand and guided his fingers to stroke over the colored pattern. He felt raised skin in a few places, like scar tissue.
“I used to cut myself.”
A breath hissed out of him. “God, Miranda. I’m sorry.” He circled her wrist with his fingers as if somehow he could soothe the old hurt that had driven her to do that.
“I did it because I needed to feel in control of something, and it made me feel so alive, that silver razor blade, the sharp slash of pain, and my red blood welling up. It was so clean, so simple.”
That image choked him. “You never . . .”
“Tried to kill myself? No. The cutting helped, believe it or not. When I was feeling desperately unhappy—depressed, worthless, powerless—it took the edge off the pain. Physical pain and control, they trumped emotional pain and lack of control. At least for a while. Enough to get me through for a bit longer.”
He’d heard about cutting, of course. Intellectually he could understand what she was saying. But it tore him up to think that she’d gone through that. “But you stopped?” Surely, she had. He’d made an intimate exploration of her lovely body, and noticed only a couple of silvery stretch marks on her abdomen.
“Aaron caught me. Made me talk about it, and that’s how I figured out why I was doing it. He said there were other ways of feeling strong. Better ones. And he said I was strong already, for having survived our mother, our life. He said I was strong and fierce and smart, like a dragon.” She smiled at Luke. “I got the tattoo so I’d never forget that.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. But how had a kid who shoplifted in order to eat managed to afford this elaborate tattoo? Tentatively he said, “Tattoos are expensive, aren’t they?”
“Yeah. The artist was a single dad, and he needed to work some weekends and evenings. I babysat for his two little kids, and he paid me in ink.”
“Nice.” Reflecting on her story, he said, “I hope Caleb and Brandon will always be there for each other, like you and Aaron. Though I sure hope they never go through the kind of crap you did.”
“You’ll make sure they don’t. So will their grandparents.” She sighed. “I’m glad the twins have each other. I feel kind of bad about Ariana being an only child. Here on Destiny she now has lots of . . .” She paused, gave a gentle smile, and went on. “Of family who’ll be there for her, but it’s not the same as a sibling bond. And if we did go back to Vancouver. . .”
“You said ‘if.’” He was convinced she would stay, and encouraged that she seemed to be more open to that possibility.
“All right, maybe the island is my destiny.” Mischief twinkled in her eyes as she emphasized the last word. “I confess I’m getting won over. By the island. Eden’s family. Glory and Gala.”
“Obviously, I’m not trying hard enough,” he teased back.
“If you tried any harder, I wouldn’t be able to walk.”
Smiling, he felt entirely content. If things worked out with him and Miranda the way he thought they might, one day down the road her little girl would have two big brothers. And with any luck, he and Miranda would add a fourth kid to the mix. Right now, anything seemed possible.
Except for lying here any longer. “I hate to say this, but we need to get up and dressed.”
“And showered.” She grinned. “Eau de sex smells good to me, but probably not so much to your mom and Forbes.”
“Good point.” He forced his drained body over to the side of the bed, sat up, and ran his hand through his hair. “It’ll have to be a quick shower.”
“No time for shower sex.” She gave him a pouty, teasing look as she climbed out of bed.
As they walked on wobbly legs to the bathroom, he remembered something he’d meant to ask. “By the way, did you end up telling Eden and the others about the information Annie dug up on Starshine, and her theories about Merlin?”
Miranda stumbled, suggesting that her legs were even shakier than his, and he caught her arm to steady her.
“I just realized,” she said, “that my shirt and skirt are lying on the hall floor. I should go down and get them, in case your family gets home early.”
“I’ll do it.”
“No, that’s okay. But do you think you could find a shower cap? I’d like to keep my hair dry.”
“I’ll look.”
She scooted out of the bedroom, obviously recovering her strength, and he went into the bathroom and rummaged in the bottom of the cabinet under the sink. He’d kept some of Candace’s odds and ends, and found a package labeled “Shower Cap.”
When Miranda returned, she took it with an “Oh, good.” Opening it, she said, “These things are ugly. Promise not to look,” and then she piled her hair up and tucked it inside the cap.
“Nope. Cute.” It was true. “You were going to tell me about the commune thing,” he reminded her.
“Oh. Right. Yes, Di and Seal were happy to hear that Starshine seems to be okay,” she said as she reached behind the shower curtain to turn on the water. “And not surprised Merlin had disappeared completely. They said he was a man of mystery, and smart. It would be like him to assume a new identity somewhere else, an identity that even Annie couldn’t trace.” She adjusted the temperature and stepped into the shower.
“So Di and Seal don’t think he died at the commune, and was cremated or buried there?” he asked as he followed her.
“It’s one theory.” Her face was tilted up to the shower spray and her words came out muffled. “But it would have been really hard to cover up something like that.”
“I guess.”
Her back was wet and sleek, graceful and feminine. He’d thought he was physically incapable of arousal again so soon, but the curves of her hips and butt were a powerful motivator. Stepping up behind her, he put his arms around her and caressed her breasts. “A quick shower, eh? I can be quick.”
She turned to him, smiling. “With you, so can I.”
He wrapped his arms around her wet body and kissed her. Then he remembered. “Damn, the condoms are by the bed.”
With drops dewing her lashes, she gazed at him. “I’m on birth control. And I’m clean, Luke. I always used condoms.”
It would take only a few seconds to jump out of the shower and drip his way across the bedroom, but he trusted Miranda. And he hated condoms, hated having a barrier between their naked bodies. “That is really good news.”