“Me too,” I said quietly as I sank further down into the couch. I laid my hands on his legs. The denim of his jeans felt rough and cool, and I was vaguely surprised to not feel his body burning up the way mine seemed to be. I slid my hands up his rock-solid thighs, circling around to his ass.
He just looked down at me, but his eyes burned and his nostrils flared as if he could smell me. He probably could—I seemed to be emitting pheromones like I’d just been swimming in them instead of the IM pool.
“We can’t…go very far,” he said, his voice low and throaty. He cleared his throat and continued, “Seriously. Andy will wake up soon and come running out here. And I just don’t want to have that talk with him quite yet about why his big brother was naked and on top of Miss Lily.” An ever-so-small smile crept across his face even as he undressed me with his eyes, paying particular interest to my chest, and that strip of skin showing below my shirt.
“Okay. So no Naked Big Brother and Miss Lily,” I said. I dropped one hand from his ass and I swore I saw him flinch from the loss. I touched the hem of my shirt, brushing the back of my hand across my bare tummy.
Lucas made me want to step out of my passivity. Made me want to be bold. Made me want to stop being the peacemaker and instead be the fire starter. “So, just how farcanwe go?” My thumb slipped beneath the cool knit cotton of my white shirt, Lucas’s eyes following the motion.
He swallowed hard. I followed the motion with my eyes as it traveled down his throat, wanting to lick that exact spot.
“God. So not far enough,” he said. He reached over his shoulder and pulled his hoodie over his head, taking his T-shirt with it. Instinctively I reached out and hung on to the gray cotton T-shirt as he got rid of the hoodie and tossed it on the chair, on top of my jacket.
“What was I thinking?” I said as I pushed the T-shirt up his body, admiring his hard abs like I had when I’d first seen him in his board shorts at the pool. “Get rid of this too.” I smoothed across his chest, the T-shirt falling over my hand, hanging up on my wrist. It didn’t matter. I could now feel that gloriously warm skin. The only thing better would be to feel it against my bare chest.
“That whole Naked Big Brother thing, remember?” he said, chuckling, as he lowered and adjusted the T-shirt back into place. But he didn’t move my hand. Instead he placed his on top of mine, but outside of his shirt.
“Jesus, Lily,” he whispered, looking down at me, into my eyes, which surely showed how much I wanted him. “You make me so hard. You drive me crazy. From the first time I saw you.”
I looked from his face to the bulge at the front of his jeans. My eyes went back to his. “Me too. From the first time I saw you.”
He nodded. He knew. Of course he knew. “That first time,” he said, like it had been months ago instead of just days. “When I saw you in your swimsuit, all I could think of was peeling it off you, getting inside you.” He made no move, just kept my hand beneath his, his other hand gently laid on my hip. Then he sat back on his haunches, his ass resting on my legs. His fingers twined with mine, even with the cotton of his shirt between us. His other hand squeezed my hip, then his fingers splayed wide.
“Then I watched you with Andy, with all those kids. And it became more than just wanting to get in your pants.” A finger smoothed along the edge of my pants, half on the material of my leggings, half on my skin. He left a trail of fire as he gently brushed that finger along my waistband. “Believe me, I still want to get in your pants. But I want to…” He sighed. I could tell these types of words were hard for a guy like Lucas. Which made me treasure them all the more. I waited for him to continue, lying quietly beneath him, my hands still on his body. “I want toknowyou, Lily Spaulding. Really know you.” I squeezed the hand that held mine. He took a deep breath then let it out. “And…I want you to know me, too.”
I waited, wanting him to know that I got how hard that was for him to say. “I want that too,” I said, meaning it more than anything I’d ever said before.
Chapter9
It wasa good thing that Lucas insisted on the no Naked Big Brother thing, because Andy came bounding out of his room soon after Lucas proclaimed he wanted to get to know me.
A proclamation that shouldn’t seem like that big of a deal, granted. But it was. With Lucas it absolutely was.
I instinctively knew he didn’t say that to just anybody. Yeah, he could have been totally playing me. But, gorgeous as he was, Lucas didn’t seem to be a player. If anything, I could see that title falling more to Stick than Lucas.
When Lucas heard Andy’s door opening—way before I did—he was off me with the speed that had earned him a scholarship to USC. Before Andy’s little legs had carried him down the hallway, Lucas was on the other side of the couch from me with the pizza menu and phone in his hands.
We ordered the pizza and we all wolfed it down, demolishing two larges. Now that I knew I wouldn’t be getting naked with Lucas tonight, I let my appetite run wild, and yeah, probably sublimated one appetite to another.
From the look on Lucas’s face as he watched me lick the grease from my lips, then sank his teeth into the thick crust, he was too.
We watched a kid-friendly movie, Andy tucked between us on the couch. I couldn’t even tell you what we watched; my concentration was so not on the television. Lucas had pulled my bun loose as we’d made our way from the kitchen to the couch, and throughout the entire movie he had his arm across the back of the couch, behind Andy, and his hand played with my hair.
His look of regret over Andy’s head told me this wasn’t how he’d pictured the first time he’d get my hair long and loose and lying with him on his couch.
Having a six-year-old kick me in the hip every time one of the cartoon minions did something funny wasn’t exactly how I’d fantasized about it, either.
Around nine, Andy started conking out and Lucas woke him up enough to get him to brush his teeth, put on his jammies, and say goodnight to Miss Lily. At the last, Andy seemed to come alive, and ran down the short hallway and launched himself into my arms, his skinny arms wrapping around my neck, much like they did when he didn’t want to go under water.
But there was no trepidation now, just pure little-kid emotion. And it was all pointed at me. “Thanks, Lily,” he said, smacking me on the cheek. “Thanks for going swimming with us.” He didn’t let go, and I hugged him tighter to me.
I had to admit it felt good. Until the night Lucas had kissed me in front of the graffiti, I hadn’t been touched—at least deeply touched—since my parents had dropped me off at Bribury and my mom had held on tightly as she’d hugged me goodbye.
That day I’d been eager for them to get on the road, not wanting to hear any more of my father’s instructions on how to “handle” Jane. But about a week later, when the only other human contact I felt had been quick handshakes with new people, I’d wished I hadn’t shed my mom’s hug quite so quickly.
I rubbed Andy’s little back, the worn cotton of his pajamas soft and smelling like fabric softener.
“Okay, buddy, say goodnight and let’s get to bed,” Lucas said, his voice soft but firm.
