Chapter 25
Olivia
I stretch and yawn in the glory of the morning. I’m relaxed and rested. Most nights I toss and turn, waking at odd hours, unable to fall back asleep. This morning I open my eyes surprised by the strange surroundings until I realize where I am.
I roll over expecting to feel the warmth of Lucas’s body. I don’t. His spot on the bed is empty. The sheets cold. I sit up and search the room. He’s not here. I check the connecting bathroom. There’s no sign of him.
Making my way to the kitchen, I find Lucas sitting at the small, round table leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, legs outstretched. Lucas’s hands are clasped behind his neck.
I lift my leg over the chair and climb onto his lap, squeezing between Lucas’s body and the table. I run my fingers through his hair and place a quick kiss on his lips.
“Good morning,” I say, with a smile.
“Morning.” He opens his eyes and darts them away from me.
He looks strung out. Bet he has a killer hangover. But there’s something more. He’s tense. Uptight.
I understand why Lucas might be nervous to see me. I should have answered him. Shouldn't have just left him hanging last night, especially after his confession.
My first, big mistake.
An awkward silence fills the empty space. I take a deep breath gathering my courage to tell him what I should've said the night before. But Lucas speaks first.
“About last night . . .” He sounds far away and detached.
“Don't worry. I'll deal. If I'm lucky, no one but Dr. Stillwell knows I was there.” I plant another small, unreciprocated kiss on his lips.
Lucas shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand.” He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady, “I . . . I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
No. I don’t believe my ears. He doesn’t mean this. If he has anything to say about last night it should be an apology.
I climb off him and stare in disbelief while fiddling with the pendant on my necklace. “You don’t mean that.”
Lucas nods, still unable to meet my eyes. “I do. I know this is hard to hear, but last night got a little out of hand . . .”
"It got a lot out of hand." I cover my mouth finding it hard to breathe.
"Exactly."
"But I never felt closer to you.” I take a baby step toward him. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid to. Afraid the small gesture will scare him off, and betray how much I need him. “It's like there's this part of you that's been closed off. Locked away. Now that you opened up, everything makes perfect sense."
“Stop, Liv—“
“No. I know what this is really about. I didn’t answer you last night because I had to look into my soul, and ask myself if I could love you with every ounce of my heart and soul. I knew my feelings for you ran deeper than I want to admit, but I didn’t realize how deep. You took me on a journey of betrayal and pain, and all I want to do is make it better. Heal the hurt inside you. Don’t push me away.”
“I’m not your charity project.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Look.” He runs his hand through his hair. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“The answer I came up with is, yes. I could love you. Totally. Completely. And with my whole heart the way you deserve, because, Lucas, I already do.”
He looks confused. “I don’t want to hurt you, Olivia, but . . .”
“Then don’t. I didn’t want to let you in. I tried to keep you out and away from my heart, but I failed. So whether you like it or not, I love you, too." My heart hammers against my chest, screaming in pain. I need to get through to him.
“Why do you keep saying that? I’m not in love--”
“Stop lying! I heard what you said last night. It took me a while to respond. Too long. I’m sorry, but I’m responding now. I love you, too!”
Lucas rubs his forehead and temples, looking very uncomfortable. “I never said that.”
Is he kidding? “You said it, and in case you’ve forgotten, you’re the one that was smashed last night.”
Lucas stands and crosses his arms over his chest, “I was not . . .”
“Yes. You’re right. You were fine,” sarcasm rings heavy in my voice.
“That’s right.”
What’s wrong with him? Why is he shutting down? I take a step closer, “Uh huh, that’s why I drove you home.”
“I was tired.”
“Drunk is more like it. Completely smashed. And I’m betting right now you’ve got a killer hangover.”
“Okay, maybe I drank too much. But I had no idea what I was saying. So even if I did say it, I didn’t mean it.”
My stomach drops. He’s denying it. Pushing me away.
“Don't do this, Lucas. You meant it.”
“You think so?”
I understand his fear, his feelings of vulnerability but I’m not going to let him hide behind them.
“Yes, I do. Because if you didn’t mean it, we would’ve had sex.”
Lucas gives me a smart-ass smirk and shakes his head mockingly, “I tell you I love you and nothing happens. You don’t see a problem with that?”
Frustration settles in. He has a point. A good one. Usually I love you is followed by some sort of seal on the deal; a long passionate kiss, a hot steamy night of love making.
Nothing happened the previous night. Nothing at all. But he’s taking it out of context. It’s because he loves me, because he respects me that nothing happened.
“Lucas . . .”
I stop, realizing it doesn’t matter what I say or how I protest. If he wants to deny his feelings, there isn’t much I can do about it. Feeling disheartened I turn away and head for the bedroom hoping I can hold myself together long enough to get out of here without crying.
I take only one step when he reaches out and takes hold of my arm. “Olivia,” he says, compassion heavy in his voice. “I am sorry.”
I meet his unnerving stare and challenge him. “For what? Being afraid?”
Anger flares in his eyes. He steps toe to toe with me, still holding my arm, his grip getting tighter. “I’m not afraid.”
“Sure you are. You’re so caught up in what happened with Stacy you won’t take a chance of having your heart broken again.”
“I’m done discussing this.”
“Of course you are. It hurts too much.”
“Oh, really?” He releases his hold on my arm only to grab my shoulders and pull me against him.
“Really!”
In a flash his mouth covers mine. He wraps his arms around me, one hand at the small of my back, the other gripping my hair, holding my head in place.
I don’t resist. Not even a little bit. I hold him tight, wanting to succumb to the mountain of desire within me. It’s been building over the last month, but we’ve hit a peak in the last twenty-four hours.
Nerve endings tingle throughout my body. My breaths quicken as his mouth travels from my lips to my neck and chest.
Lucas keeps a tight hold on me. He pulls his hand from my hair and runs it under the oversized tee shirt. His hand is hot, scorching, against my cool skin.
I shudder as it moves freely up to my bare breast where his fingers caress and pinch its peak. I writhe in his arms as I try to fight off the need to feel his body inside of mine.
The air comes alive with a charge. It’s edgy. Explosive. A wild fire rages between us. It’s hot and heavy and out of control. I want him. I need him to fill me. To take away the ache inside my chest. The ache between my legs.
I breathe him in. A faint trace of cologne clings to his skin. My hands travel up the back of his shirt along his muscular back, as I press myself against him, urging him to take me. His heart beats hard and fast against mine.
My fingers trail up and down the creases and smooth muscles of his chest. I’ve been waiting to explore the feel of his body. To memorize every depression, every crevice defining his muscles.
None of this satisfies the pulsing need between my legs. It’s making it worse. My fingers dig into Lucas holding on tight like he’s a fast and dangerous ride I might fall off of.
I stop to swallow down the lump in the back of my throat. To quiet the voice of reason telling me to stop things here and now. My brain tells me I got a reaction from him. That’s all I need. But my body needs so much more!
I pull back and search his eyes. They mirror an insatiable hunger. There’s only one way to quench this need, this yearning I’ve suppressed since we met and can deny no longer.
In one swift motion Lucas sweeps me up into his arms. I clasp my hands around his neck, resting my forehead against his, knowing full well what’s going to happen next. Wanting it to happen. Needing it to happen.
Lucas carries me from the kitchen into the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed and climbs in next to me. Leaning on his elbow, his other hand rests on my stomach.
How is he so controlled? So composed?
He remains still a moment as his eyes rake over my body, soaking me in with fire in his eyes. I don’t know why he’s hesitating. Is it because of me? Am I not sending him the signal that I want to be fucked like there’s no tomorrow?
Lucas’s hand moves gently over my stomach, his fingertips barely brush the visible areas of my skin. I want to feel them stroke me lower. I move his hand between my legs, close my eyes and shudder at his touch.
His hand moves back up my stomach, and slides under my shirt. I arch my back, why won’t he touch me the way I want him to? The way I need him to?
I sit up and pull the shirt over my head, leaving me in nothing but the lace thong I wore last night. I focus on his eyes hoping to find approval and desire in them.
Although he wears a cocky, triumphant look on his face, his eyes are still ablaze.
“You want to get fucked don’t you?”
“Yes.”
I reach for his hard cock and stroke it over his sweat pants.
“Is that what you want, Liv? My cock?” Lucas asks, as his lips close around my hardened nipple.
“Yes,” I answer, not recognizing the desperate need in my voice.
“I’ve waited so long for you.”
He moves my thong over and rubs his hand over my bare pussy.
“You’re so soft, Olivia. So wet,” he says, slipping his fingers between my slick folds and then stroking the little nub at the apex of my thighs.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispers.
“I want to feel you . . .” I stop speaking as his warm tongue licks my lips. My neck. My nipples.
“Tell me,” he demands, taking my clitoris between his fingers. He switches off, lightly pinching it, tapping it, and pulling it gently. Running his fingers along the length. It feels so good. I whimper.
“Do you like this?” he asks before playing with my nipple in his mouth the way his fingers play with my clit.
“Yes.”
“You want more?”
“Yes, please.”
“You need to convince me you want it. Convince me you want me.”
“Please, Lucas. Please. Please!”
My body quakes as I approach orgasm. He’s working my clitoris faster, changing things up, and turning the sexual need up ten notches.
I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never been this ready to give someone full control of my body. I don’t care what he does to me or how he does it, as long as he gets me over that peak.
“Oh, God, Lucas, please fuck me!”
I find, not only am I ready to dive off a cliff, I’m ready to jump from thirty thousand feet in the air without a parachute. I don’t care. All I care about is the feeling of ecstasy overpowering everything else at this moment.