His breath catches. “Seriously?”
“Why not?”
Lucas studies me for a second, like he’s waiting for the catch.
“There’s no media angle,” I add. “No documentary. No campaign event. Just you and me.”
A slow grin tugs at his mouth. “You proposing, Lexington?”
“You wish, Carmichael.”
He laughs and pulls me flush against him. “Are we sealing this with a kiss, or…”
“Hmm.” I tilt my head, pretending to consider it. “I was thinking something more binding.”
Not wasting another second, he picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and walks us down the hall to the bedroom. When he lays me on the bed, his mouth finds mine like he’ll never get enough. There’s nothing hesitant about it, no slow build, no holding back, just heat and hunger and urgency.
“You’re obsessed with me,” I murmur as he lifts my sweater over my head.
“One hundred percent.”
His fingers trail fire across my skin as he undressesme with deliberate slowness, and his eyes darken as each new inch of skin is revealed. When I’m finally naked beneath him, he takes a moment to just look, his gaze traveling from my face down my body with such blatant appreciation that I feel myself flush despite our familiarity.
“Your turn,” I tell him as I reach for his shirt buttons. He helps me, shrugging out of his clothes until he’s gloriously bare, all lean muscle and warm skin that I’ve come to know intimately over these months.
I run my hands over his shoulders and down his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath my palm. When he lowers himself to cover my body with his, the contact of skin against skin is electrifying. The weight of him, the heat, the perfect fit of our bodies, it’s overwhelming and exactly what I need.
“I’ll never get enough of this,” he whispers against my neck, his voice rough with desire. “Enough of you.”
“Prove it,” I say, arching up to press my breasts against his chest.
His mouth finds mine again, hungrier now, as his hand slides between us to touch me where I’m already wet and aching for him. I gasp against his lips as his fingers work their magic, knowing exactly how to touch me, where to apply pressure, when to ease back. The man has made a study of my body, methodical and thorough in a way that would be almost clinical if it weren’t so devastatingly effective.
“Lucas,” I breathe as my hips rise to meet his hand. “I need you inside me. Now.”
“So demanding,” he teases, but I feel the tremor in his arms as he positions himself between my thighs. When hefinally pushes into me, we both groan at the sensation of being joined again, making up for lost time.
Moonlight spills through the bedroom window, painting Lucas in silver and shadow as he moves above me. Our bodies slide together with practiced familiarity, yet each thrust still sends electricity racing across my skin. This is something deeper, more deliberate, with each movement a promise, each kiss a vow.
“I love you,” he whispers against my neck, and the words are still new enough to make my heart stutter.
“Show me,” I say, arching up to meet him.
His eyes lock with mine as he adjusts his angle, hitting that perfect spot that makes my breath catch. “Like this?” he asks, with a hint of his usual cockiness returning.
“Getting warmer,” I gasp, digging my nails into his shoulders as he increases his pace. The familiar pressure builds low in my belly.
Lucas knows my body now. He knows exactly how to touch me, where to kiss me, when to slow down, and when to push harder. He dips his head to capture my nipple between his lips, using just enough teeth to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through me. My back arches reflexively, and a moan escapes before I can stop it.
“There she is,” he murmurs against my breast, sounding supremely satisfied. “No holding back tonight, Jess. I want to hear you.”
“Make me,” I challenge, though the words come out breathier than intended.
He grins, that devastating half-smile that firstcaught my attention in a tunnel leading to a baseball dugout years ago. “Gladly.”
With surprising strength, he flips us so I’m straddling him, with my thighs bracketing his hips. The change in position drives him deeper, and we both gasp. His hands settle on my waist, guiding but not controlling as I begin to move.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. In this position, I feel powerful, cherished, and seen all at once.
