Heels (Boots Book 2) Page 3

  I came on a free fall, flying, screaming. The orgasm took me apart and put me back together before I reached the bottom. When my hips stopped churning and my eyes focused, I realized two things—my throat was hoarse (how loud did I scream?) and I was likely suffocating the man below me.

  “Oh my God,” was all I could say as I tried to lift myself up. But my legs weren’t working.

  I found myself being lifted and dumped on my back, Luke looming over me with that wicked grin, one that I now knew backed up the promise it had made.

  I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, I could only blink at him as he wiped his face with my sheet, still grinning, before brushing my hair off my face. “That good for you?”

  I just stared at him. Good for me? That was an out of body, otherworldly experience.

  Which I realized I said out loud, because he threw back his head and burst out laughing.

  “Um, did I say that out loud?” I asked.

  “Yeah, yeah you did, baby.” His eyes were still twinkling. “Gotta get you naked. Know what that pussy tastes like, now I wanna know how tight you squeeze my dick. Because baby, you came like a fucking firecracker. Good thing you don’t live in an apartment, because you’d wake the neighbors every time I put my mouth on you.”

  “I would not wake the neighbors,” I snapped.

  He grinned. “I’m surprised I can hear.”

  “I don’t like you anymore,” I said, turning my face to the side, even though it took effort because he was so beautiful in the moonlight, his confidence oozing from every pore.

  His head dipped, and he nuzzled my jaw, his teeth scraping the skin. “Liar.”

  I huffed.

  “You like me.”

  I huffed again.

  “I like you,” he said.

  Sex with him was fun. It was hot and a bit crude and forbidden but oh so much fucking fun. “Fine, I like you too.”

  He grinned, and I felt myself falling. Fast.

  Three

  He stood at the side of the bed and tore his shirt over his head before tossing it to the side. I rose up on my elbows to take him in. My God, he was beautiful, defined muscles with ink curving down his sides. I managed to get myself out of my dress as he bent to shuck his pants. When he rose back up, he held a condom in his hand. I was trying to take off my heels.

  “Leave the shoes on,” he said, eyes fiery. “Ready for me?”

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for Luke in my life. “Yes.”

  He stroked himself a couple of times, and my mouth went dry. His dick was long and thick, the head slick with pre-come. He rolled the condom on, his hungry eyes on me, and I slithered back on the bed as he bent to crawl toward me. “On your stomach, Peaches.”

  I slowly rolled over, watching him over my shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the center of my back, and his big hand grabbed a hunk of my ass. The possessive way he squeezed sent a shiver of arousal down my spine.

  He pulled me to my knees, a position I’d never been comfortable in. But tonight, I loved it. I felt sexy and slutty, and wanton. I wanted him to fuck me like this, on my hands and knees. I wanted to feel his harsh breath on my back as he panted over me. I wanted his strong hands gripping my hips as he drove into me.

  I waited. His hand rested on the small of my back, then slowly slid up, and up until I felt his hand wrap around my hair and tug back.

  “Oh,” I cried out softly.

  He exhaled roughly. “Fuck, that’s a pretty sound. You going to moan like that when I’m inside you, Peaches?”

  His dick probed my entrance. “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Good girl,” he said. Then he entered me just as he fell forward, his other hand catching his fall.

  I surged forward from the force of his thrust and a low moan left my throat. With one hand in the bed, and the other in my hair, he pulled his hips back and snapped them forward. I moaned again.

  “Been thinking all night how good you’d feel, and the reality is still fucking better than the dream.” His hand lifted my hair and slid around to cup my throat, his thumb pushing my chin back. He continued to thrust, a rocking rhythm that grew in strength until the sound of his hips slamming against my ass filled the room, a dirty sound that was only made dirtier by his lips at my ear. “Wish you could see yourself. Hair mussed, heels on, ass red from my handprint. Fucking beautiful, Peaches. Don’t know how the hell you were there without a man, but it was my lucky night.”

  I was close again, unable to talk with my head tilted back, eyes half-open, his cock slamming the breath from my chest. And I loved every minute of it. I loved how dirty I felt, how I was putty in his hands. It was pretty clear to me that this because of him. Another man talking to me like this? Fucking me like this? I’d hate it. But he had some magic touch that made me love the sluttiness of it all. I moaned as I felt an orgasm building again. “Luke,” I murmured.

  His hips stuttered. “You like this, don’t you? Getting felt up in a stranger’s car, getting fucked on your knees with your heels on?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “God, yes.”

  He pressed his face against mine, and I felt his sweat slick against my skin. “Gonna come, Peaches. You’re too fucking hot and tight to last.”

  “Please.”

  His hand left my throat and my head dropped forward just as my arms gave out. His fingers dove at my clit and I was done for. I screamed, a trembling sweaty mess on the bed as my second orgasm slammed into me. As if I was in a tunnel, I heard his groans above me, and his hips slam into me one last time, before we both slid to the bed, shaky and exhausted.

  I was on my stomach, and Luke was half in the bed, half on top of me. His heavy arm was slung across my back, face pressed against my arm.

  I moved my legs a bit to make sure they were still in working order. Like jelly, but they were functional. Good to know.

  Luke’s head rose, his hair brushing my skin, and the first thing he did was flash me that grin. “I think you killed me.”

  I smiled. “I think you killed me.”

  “Cool, then we’re both dead.” His brows turned in. “Except I’m hungry. And I might have to piss. I don’t think those things happen when you’re dead.”

  “No, I think not.”

  He rolled off me with a grunt. “How long before you kick me out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As in, do I have minutes, hours?” He lifted up his hands and rubbed his face.

  I didn’t understand. “Why would I kick you out?”

  His arms flopped back on the bed and he turned his head toward me. He didn’t speak for a moment. “You don’t do this, do you?”

  “Do what?”

  He didn’t answer right away, only smiled—although this was a different smile, maybe a bit sad. “Never mind.” His lips curled higher, the familiar grin returning. I needed a dictionary to detect all his smiles. I got the impression he smiled a lot but that his smiles didn’t always mean good things. His fingers brushed my check, then down my back until he squeezed my ass gently. “This body was made to be fucked, Peaches. Just saying. It’s a fucking travesty every night you go to bed without a man between your legs.”

  He was crude, so crude. And a part of me recognized what he was saying maybe went against some feminist agenda, yet I didn’t care because a part of my soul needed to hear that I was desired and attractive.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything, only stared at him as he stood up and stretched, completely comfortable in his nudity. His body was beautiful, lean and muscled, with a round ass and a lightly furred chest. He scratched his stomach with an easy grin leveled at me as he began to walk toward my bathroom.

  I rolled onto my back. My mind reeled with all the things Tim had said to me for seven years, the way he turned up his nose at the size of my ass, my breasts that he said were beginning to feel the effects of gravity, the cellulite on my thighs. Meanwhile this man, this stranger, had made me feel like…well like Scarlet Johansson, l
ike he was just honored to touch me. Me.

  I had to force myself out of my thoughts, out of the ugly words in my head that Tim had put there, that I hadn’t been able to shake out. Although tonight, their intensity had faded somewhat.

  Luke’s face changed then, just a small downward tilt of his lips. “Sam?”

  I started at the sound of my name, and focused on him.

  It was then I saw it—something leeching into his eyes, like oil spilling into water. It didn’t mix, it floated to the service, dark and ugly. He walked toward me, and his entire posture had changed—he didn’t saunter with that confident swagger. He prowled.

  He leaned both fists into the bed on either side of me. “Someone make you not feel like that?”

  What the hell? Could he read my mind? I didn’t dare speak, unsure what I’d say, what words I’d unleash with all the ugly in my head.

  But Luke was like a dog with a bone, because his next sentence was spoke through gritted teeth. “Someone make you feel shit about your body?”

  “Luke,” I whispered.

  He flinched, and I couldn’t figure out why. “Someone made you feel shit about your body.” This time, he spoke a declarative statement.

  I rolled my lips between my teeth.

  “Mom? Dad? A man?”

  I answered then, because he was sort of scaring me, that oil taking over until I couldn’t see the clear waters in his eyes. “A man.”

  A flame lit that oil, and his eyes detonated. “Fool,” he spat. “Fucking fool.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, stupidly, because it wasn’t okay and we both knew it.

  “No it’s not okay,” he growled. “It’s not okay because that shit is still in your head when you’re with another man. Now, I may be wrong about a lot of things, but one thing I’m not wrong about is that any man worth a damn who didn’t get down on his knees every night and thank fuck he had you in his bed is a fucking fool.”

  “I—” This was a lot, so much, and me being Samantha Stupid Gaithers said like an idiot. “Why are you still saying nice things when you already got laid?”

  It was his turn to blink. “Are you fucking serious?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Holy shit, you’re fucking serious. You’re not even playing a game. You’re legit serious right now.”

  “I-I don’t play games—”

  “Yeah I can fucking tell. And let’s get this straight—I don’t either. I’m not feeding you lines to fuck you again. I’m telling you the truth because I can see you’ve got shit to unpack in that head of yours and if I want to get any further than tonight with you, I gotta start cleaning that out.”

  Further with me than tonight? What?

  His face softened then, the fire burning out, some of the oil receding. “You tell me, Peaches. You want to see me again? Or do you want this to end now? Although I should warn you, if you say the latter, be prepared for me to argue my case.”

  “I thought this was a one-night stand,” I said.

  “You have one-night stands a lot?” His tone held a hint of amusement, like he knew very well I didn’t.

  “No,” I said.

  He grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. For me, this started as a one time thing but the minute I got my mouth on you and heard you moan for me, this turned into a whole other thing.”

  “And you get to decide that?”

  “Rewind, Peaches. I just asked you if you wanted to see me again.”

  “Oh,” I bit my lip. Because he had.

  His gaze dipped to my mouth. “You gonna answer me?”

  “I’d like to see you again,” I answered quickly, because I did, because he made me feel like a better Samantha, the one I had been trying to be. He wasn’t going to magically fix whatever was in my head, I was smart enough to know that. But he sure could help the process.

  “What’s your job?” he asked.

  “My job?”

  “Yeah, what do you do?”

  “I’m a librarian.” He stared at me. In fact, he stared at me so long without saying anything that I began to wonder if I did something wrong. “Luke?”

  “You’re a librarian,” he stated.

  “Yeah, at Gentry Public Library.”

  Again with the stare, then his head fell back and he stared at the ceiling. His shoulders began to shake in laughter. “I’m fucking a librarian.”

  Now I was getting annoyed. “What’s wrong with that?”

  His head snapped back and while his eyes were still warm, his expression was earnest. “Nothing, baby. Swear to God, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just…if someone had told me a year ago I’d be sitting on purple sheets after fucking the sweet town librarian who smells like peaches and lives in a goddamn fairy-tale house, I wouldn’t have believed them.”

  “They’re lavender,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “My sheets are lavender.”

  He started laughing again. “Fine, lavender.”

  “And where were you a year ago that you wouldn’t have believed them?” I asked.

  As soon as the question left my lips, the air in the room went weird. Humor fled from Luke’s face like a receding tide. And then he said simply. “I wasn’t here. And I wasn’t in a place that I imagined I’d ever get here. Don’t know how I got here, and I’m not sure I deserve it, but I’m gonna hold on with all I got.”

  His intensity scared me a bit. “This feels fast.”

  He shrugged. “I operate based on instinct and my instinct is telling me to try something with you. That okay?”

  He ensnared me with his gaze, trapped me. As much as I wanted to tell him I was all in, I also needed some time to process all of this. I didn’t move fast. I thought everything out—maybe too much—before I made decisions. I had a hard enough time changing coffee brands, and so this was a bit too much.

  “This was fast tonight, and I don’t regret it, but I think I need some time. Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of intense?”

  He laughed, his deep chuckle filling the room with humor. “All the time, Peaches.”

  I reached for his hand. “So we can try, but I’d like to take it slow.”

  “I can do slow for you.” He picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles. “And right now, it’s late. So how about I go in your kitchen, find a snack, come back here, we eat in bed, then we sleep.”

  “How about I go get the snack and you relax?”

  His eyes twinkled. Actually twinkled. “How about I help you get the snacks?”

  I slid out of bed and grabbed my silk robe off the headboard post. “Deal.”

  I looked over to see him pulling on his jeans. He left the top button undone, so they hung low on his hips. My legs were still shaky from two orgasms and yet I wanted to drag him back into bed.

  I tied my sash tight, and he watched me as he ran his hand through his hair. His eyes dipped down my body then back up. “You have to know how hot that is.”

  “It’s just a blue silk robe.”

  “It’s silk and I can see all your curves beneath it when you move.”

  “You need to stop with the compliments.”

  “Never. And hey, text your sister.”

  “Oh shit,” I scrambled for my phone, impressed that he remembered. I sent off a quick text that I was fine and that I loved her.

  I walked around the bed, grabbed his hand, and led him down the hallway to my kitchen. There, I instructed him to stand at the counter while I opened my fridge. “Okay, we have some choices. We can go sweet—I have some ice cream, or some brownies. Or we can go savory—I have some chips and dip, and also some leftover Chinese.”

  I looked over my shoulder. Luke leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, fiery eyes on me, with that ever present smirk on his face. He looked good enough to eat. To hell with snacks.

  “What kind of Chinese?” he asked.

  “Shrimp fried rice and chicken lo mein.”

  “Good call. Let’s
heat that up, Peaches.”

  Chinese food at midnight was probably a bad idea, but I was starving. I took out the containers and dumped the contents onto a plate. I was spreading out the noodles and rice when Luke’s hands gripped my waist. He slid them around to my stomach, which was an area that I was self-conscious about. But his big hands cradled my tummy like it was precious. “You got a radio in here or something?” he asked.

  I pointed to a small clock radio I had installed under my cabinets.

  He pressed the power button, and Tom Petty’s voice on the classic rock station filled the kitchen. My hands fisted on the counter as Luke began to sway slightly to the music. His lips brushed my ear. “You going to put that in the microwave?”

  “You’re kind of distracting.”

  He pressed a kiss along my neck. Then his hand reached around, picked up the plate, and stuck it in the microwave. “There, now do your thing, turn it on, and then we can dance.”

  I typed in some numbers, hoping I didn’t add too many zeroes, then turned on the microwave. Luke turned up the music and spun me around in his arms. I didn’t expect him to know how to dance like this, but he wrapped one arm around my waist, gripped my hand with his other, and then we swayed to Wonderful Tonight.

  His face pressed against mine, his stubble rasped along my cheek, and his chest hair rubbed against my robe. I closed my eyes, sinking into his warmth, into the gentle rumble of his singing. For a moment, I forgot where I was, I forgot pretty much anything except how good it felt to be wrapped in Luke’s arms. For two minutes, I didn’t think anything could hurt me as long as Luke was at my side.

  Then the microwave beeped, making me flinch, and the song switched over to something more fast-paced. Luke stopped swaying and he gripped my face, tilting my head up with his thumbs. His lids were half-closed, his fiery eyes now sleepy. His fingers caressed my face. “Slow,” he said quietly.

  “Slow,” I whispered back.

  He kissed me deeply, and while I hoped like hell he knew what slow was, everything about him, from the way he moved to the way he talked, promised fast and intense. But I decided, even if we lit up the night and burned out afterward, it would be worth it.