A small smile played across her lips as she obeyed without a word, and her trust in his command tugged something inside him that was deeper than the tug in his dick.
He dropped the shirt over her head, relaxing a little when her gorgeous breasts were finally out of view. “Stand up for me,” he urged, holding up his hand.
Again she came to him, rising on her feet, but this time she pressed herself against his chest, and set her mouth to his ear. “Let me touch you…husband.”
Husband.His jaw immediately clenched. There was no room for his dick to even twitch in his pants. She’d made sure of that with one word alone.
Did she mean it? Or was she fucking with him? Playing a game. He honestly didn’t know, but he was desperate for relief. Gripping her face between his palms, he crashed his mouth down on hers and kissed her desperately.
And she met him there, her passion as unchecked as his, her hunger matching every stroke, every dive of his tongue. His hands tangled in her hair as he angled her head the way he needed. Her fingers clawed at his back, hauling him closer. They devoured. And it went on like that until Lucy moaned into his mouth and Joel had to call upon every last drop of his evaporating control to drag himself away.
When they pulled apart, they were both breathless. With unsteady fingers, he stroked her hair out of her face and swiped his thumb along her swollen bottom lip. God, he wanted her so badly. It did not help matters that he knew she’d let him have her anyway he wanted, all night long.
“We’re doing this differently this time, Lucy,” he whispered.
There was a line of confusion that creased between her eyes, so he pressed a kiss into the spot on her forehead. He eased her down onto the bed before she could say anything. Pulling the covers up her body, he tucked the material in on her sides.
“Sleep tight, Luciana,” he murmured, and because he simply needed one last taste of her, he brushed another kiss across her temple.
Flicking off the light and leaving her alone in her room twisted his gut into knots, even though he knew it was the right thing to do. One way or another their time would come, but it wasn’t now.
Good thing he was a patient man. That virtue had served him well in life. The one time he’d rushed into something had been with Lucy, and although those had been some of the best days of his life, they’d been followed by some of his darkest. If that experience had taught him anything, it was that the rush was never worth the pain of the fall. So he attacked life with patience and control, and that cocktail did not often let him down.
Though it did leave him with one pent-up emotion he currently had no viable outlet for. Lust. For Lucy.
Closing himself into his room at the opposite end of the hallway, he considered using his own hand to slake the need, but after what happened in Lucy’s room, it seemed empty somehow. What he needed was a hard run, a cold shower and a few hours of decent sleep.
After changing into athletic pants and a shirt, he tugged on his trainers and tiptoed out of the apartment. Fifty minutes later, he returned from his run and took a shower on the coldest setting. He stood under the spray, letting thewater beat down the back of his neck until he couldn’t take anymore. Finally, after toweling off, he laid down in bed.
But sleep, the bastard, antagonized him. When he was under, he only saw Lucy, naked and needy, panting his name like he was the new Messiah. His dreams tortured him, leaving him hot and breathless. A beautiful kind of nightmare. But when he was awake, he longed for the unconscious, so he could feel the blissful torture again. And so it went—restless, fitful, lustful spurts of sleep until he eventually gave up and staggered out of bed at five-thirty in the morning.
As always, work was his most reliable companion, and he lost himself in the rhythm of the process for a couple of hours. Two offers on new plots of industrial land on the east coast, one meeting with the contractor of his current Portland build, and a lot of tedious paperwork—and his personal problems or distractions, melted away. Without Morgan Construction, he wasn’t sure how he’d have survived the last four years.
He loved his work. There was something hugely satisfying about buying land and building something on it that made it more valuable, not only financially, but for people. There was something hugely satisfying about creating homes with designs that made sense for the practical lives people led, and not simply trying to fit as many humans as possible into tiny boxes for the sake of profit.
Two years ago, he’d partnered with the city of San Francisco and a local non-profit to build a housing complex to support those without homes. As his home city exploded in population and poverty rates, affordable housing had become his passion project. And while Morgan Construction was known for their elite high rises—featuring luxury penthouses that Barone & Sons finished with exquisiteinterior—he enjoyed building safe and affordable housing for those who needed it most.
There wasn’t much return on mixed income housing, but he’d never stop being involved in them.
By 9 a.m., he heard the bedroom door down the hall open and close, followed a minute later by the sound of the shower running. A smile curved his lips as he pictured a groggy Lucy getting under the steaming water. Or would she need a cold one, like he had?
He got up from the table that served as his desk and poured water into his espresso maker. By the time the bathroom door squeaked open, the smell of rich Italian espresso filled the kitchen.
Lucy emerged in the dining room wearing leggings, a loose t-shirt, and her damp hair tied up in a messy bun. Fucking irresistible.
“Coffee?” he asked, pouring some into a cup, because he knew the answer was yes.
Sure enough, she nodded, her gaze dipping before popping up again. Her tell that she had something uncomfortable to say. He took a fortifying inhale.
“About last night…” She slid onto a chair by the table and downed half the espresso in one gulp. “You should know I remember everything.”
“Alright.” He took a sip of his own coffee as he assessed her. He wouldn’t have touched her if he had a single doubt about her memory.
“I wanted you to know, so you didn’t, you know, feel like you’d taken advantage of me or anything. I remember it all, and I enjoyed it so—” She shrugged like none of it mattered, her eyes flitting to the side. “Thank you.”
Joel studied her while trying to contain the annoyance that shot through him. The eye contact was gone, hercheeks were several shades brighter, and she continued to sip espresso even though he was pretty sure the cup was empty.
She was going to brush it off as nothing. He considered challenging her, then opted against it. He wouldn’t play it safe forever, but this morning wasn’t the time to dive into the deep end.
