to fuck her. Pleasure soared. His hand moved faster on his turgid flesh, his rhythm and hold almost brutal. Need clawed its way from his balls, up his dick. Orgasm wasn’t far behind . . . and thoughts of Emily were long gone.
In that moment, pressure built and heated. It burst, Alyssa at the center of the storm. Clamping his lips shut, he groaned as orgasm slammed him, clenching his balls, cramping his stomach. Semen spurted into the porcelain tub, then washed with the water down the drain.
Luc leaned against the tile, more relaxed, but vaguely unsatisfied. Yes, he’d gotten off, but need still keyed him up. His hand was a lousy substitute for Alyssa.
He dropped his grip from his cock and turned off the shower. Damn, he felt worse now. Not high on lust anymore, but confused. Depressed. What the hell was the matter with him?
You want something you can’t have, the voice in his head taunted him. He’d tell it to shut up . . . but it was right.
Grabbing the shower curtain with an impatient fist, Luc thrust it back. To his shock, Alyssa stood three feet away, hip leaned against the vanity, a towel in her hand. She looked furious—and hurt.
“So, was that good for you?”
ALYSSA was still furious six hours later as she pounded on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in her spare bedroom. With a grunt, she kicked it once, twice, then followed with a mean right hook.
What was Luc thinking? She’d offered herself to him—something she never did for any man—and he’d self-pleasured in the shower. Of course he thought she offered herself to anyone with a Y chromosome and didn’t understand that she’d invited him alone because he was special, because she thought . . . maybe there was something more between them than fabulous sex.
Stupid.
Another kick, another punch. Sweat rolled down her body. It wasn’t relieving her tension.
Before she’d guilted Luc into staying, he’d mentioned that he was dating someone else. The thought of him with another woman made her stomach tighten. Insecurity blindsided her. Was Luc sleeping with this woman? Did he want his new girlfriend more than he wanted her? Was he, God forbid, in love with her?
She had to know. Throwing herself at a man whose heart belonged to someone else was both pointless and embarrassing. For a while, she’d been sure Kimber was it for him, but then Deke had married her. Then Alyssa had heard through the grapevine that Luc’s involvement with the couple was over, and she’d had fresh hope. Now . . . she didn’t know what to think.
Lying on the table against the window, her cell phone rang shrilly. With one last punch of the bag, she stepped across the room, tore off a glove, then grabbed it. The display told her it was Tyler.
“Hey, I was just thinking about you.”
“Yeah?” He sounded really happy about that.
“Punching the hell out of my bag and pretending it’s your head,” she teased.
“Funny,” he intoned. “Look, I know it’s early, but you should come to the club.”
Alyssa froze. “What happened?”
Tyler hesitated—something he never did. That man was as straight up as they came. She trusted him with her life, so when he hedged, it couldn’t be good.
“Just come to the club,” he said finally.
Something was absolutely wrong. “Shit. Give me an hour?”
“The sooner, the better.”
She hung up, cursing as she made her way out of her exercise room and into the hall. She ran smack into Luc.
“Sorry.” She backed away from him. It was either that or jump on him. She hadn’t had the pleasure of “the morning after” last time, and Alyssa took one look at him, hair softly rumpled, eyes slumberous, and realized she’d missed something spectacular.
Her blood heated all over again.
“Good morning.”
The words were polite . . . but lacked the passion she wanted to hear when he said those words, his head on the pillow beside her, just before he kissed her thoroughly and they welcomed the day together with
In that moment, pressure built and heated. It burst, Alyssa at the center of the storm. Clamping his lips shut, he groaned as orgasm slammed him, clenching his balls, cramping his stomach. Semen spurted into the porcelain tub, then washed with the water down the drain.
Luc leaned against the tile, more relaxed, but vaguely unsatisfied. Yes, he’d gotten off, but need still keyed him up. His hand was a lousy substitute for Alyssa.
He dropped his grip from his cock and turned off the shower. Damn, he felt worse now. Not high on lust anymore, but confused. Depressed. What the hell was the matter with him?
You want something you can’t have, the voice in his head taunted him. He’d tell it to shut up . . . but it was right.
Grabbing the shower curtain with an impatient fist, Luc thrust it back. To his shock, Alyssa stood three feet away, hip leaned against the vanity, a towel in her hand. She looked furious—and hurt.
“So, was that good for you?”
ALYSSA was still furious six hours later as she pounded on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in her spare bedroom. With a grunt, she kicked it once, twice, then followed with a mean right hook.
What was Luc thinking? She’d offered herself to him—something she never did for any man—and he’d self-pleasured in the shower. Of course he thought she offered herself to anyone with a Y chromosome and didn’t understand that she’d invited him alone because he was special, because she thought . . . maybe there was something more between them than fabulous sex.
Stupid.
Another kick, another punch. Sweat rolled down her body. It wasn’t relieving her tension.
Before she’d guilted Luc into staying, he’d mentioned that he was dating someone else. The thought of him with another woman made her stomach tighten. Insecurity blindsided her. Was Luc sleeping with this woman? Did he want his new girlfriend more than he wanted her? Was he, God forbid, in love with her?
She had to know. Throwing herself at a man whose heart belonged to someone else was both pointless and embarrassing. For a while, she’d been sure Kimber was it for him, but then Deke had married her. Then Alyssa had heard through the grapevine that Luc’s involvement with the couple was over, and she’d had fresh hope. Now . . . she didn’t know what to think.
Lying on the table against the window, her cell phone rang shrilly. With one last punch of the bag, she stepped across the room, tore off a glove, then grabbed it. The display told her it was Tyler.
“Hey, I was just thinking about you.”
“Yeah?” He sounded really happy about that.
“Punching the hell out of my bag and pretending it’s your head,” she teased.
“Funny,” he intoned. “Look, I know it’s early, but you should come to the club.”
Alyssa froze. “What happened?”
Tyler hesitated—something he never did. That man was as straight up as they came. She trusted him with her life, so when he hedged, it couldn’t be good.
“Just come to the club,” he said finally.
Something was absolutely wrong. “Shit. Give me an hour?”
“The sooner, the better.”
She hung up, cursing as she made her way out of her exercise room and into the hall. She ran smack into Luc.
“Sorry.” She backed away from him. It was either that or jump on him. She hadn’t had the pleasure of “the morning after” last time, and Alyssa took one look at him, hair softly rumpled, eyes slumberous, and realized she’d missed something spectacular.
Her blood heated all over again.
“Good morning.”
The words were polite . . . but lacked the passion she wanted to hear when he said those words, his head on the pillow beside her, just before he kissed her thoroughly and they welcomed the day together with
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