he asked, surprising himself. Normally, he'd be distancing himself by now. Getting too involved was a distraction and complication he'd always avoided. He hadn't wanted a relationship while he was in the military; he'd seen too many of them crumble under the strain.
But he was never going back. This time he actually wanted to know more, wanted to know what made this woman tick, what led to her feeling like such a disappointment to herself and others.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You said your ex, for one. So there were others…"
"Oh. Yeah. I mean, no. Not like you're thinking. My parents." Ah. Now Ian could see where the root of her sadness came from. It didn't get any deeper than that. Lucy drew in a deep breath. "My father died in a car accident when I was twelve. My mother fell into a deep depression. Six months later, she committed suicide. She couldn't live without him."
Bloody hell.
She said it so matter-of-fact, as though it no longer hurt. But he knew that was a lie. Lucy's mother had left her child alone when she needed her the most. No doubt it had left her feeling like she wasn't worth living for. He felt blind-sided and hurt for her. Angry, too.
"So there ya go,"' she added with a thin smile. "Sorry you asked?"
Was he?
"No," he answered, honestly. "Not sorry at all."
She shifted, facing him, and let the side of her head rest against the wall. "Your turn."
"Not much to tell."
"Right. Scared?" Her gaze went challenging. "Dare I say, chicken?"
Ian laughed. Lucy was smart, funny, and she obviously loved her family—otherwise she wouldn't have traveled across the Atlantic to help out her cousin. She had a quirkiness about her, which he thought was sexy as hell. It didn't hurt she was a stunner with those big brown eyes, sweet lips, and that infuriating ponytail. "Your ex was an idiot."
Her smile faltered. Pink crept into her cheeks. Silence swept in, filling the space between them with awkwardness. His mouth went dry. She was looking at him with a mix of interest and anxiety that made his heart pound. Then, she licked and bit her lip. A flash of teeth and tongue. Hell. That did all kinds of things to his resolve.
Screw it. She'd started it by kissing him last night; he might as well finish it right.
He leaned forward, slipped his hand behind her head, and pulled her in.
A fraction before his lips touched hers, he paused. He loved this moment, the way anticipation shot straight through his chest and exploded in his stomach. Lucy hadn't pulled back. In fact, she fisted his shirt, pulled him closer with a hitch in her breath, and kissed him. Again.
He sent up a silent prayer of thanks, then licked her bottom lip. As she opened her mouth and he slipped inside, an arc of lust slammed him hard and he felt it all the way to his toes. He deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers hot and slow and thorough just like he liked it, just like he'd wanted to do the first time she'd kissed him.
Lucy moaned and wrapped her arms around him, sliding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and pressing her breasts against his chest. He cursed in appreciation, a faint whisper against her lips, feeling lost and reckless. And not himself. And sure as hell not flatlined.
Chapter 7
Her blood rushed heavy through her veins. Her heart was going a mile a minute. The feel of his warm lips making their way to her neck made her shiver. His hands slid under her shirt and up her back. They were hot, the palms rough and big.
All he had to do was dip a hand inside her shorts and she'd go off like a firecracker.
And that scared her, the intensity she felt, the swift and surprising rise of it.
Lucy broke the kiss, her hands on his chest. Ian's heart hammered hard and strong against her palm. They stared at each other, speechless, breathless, dazed.
After a moment, he reached up and grabbed her hands at his chest and held them there. "This is the second time you kissed me," he said
But he was never going back. This time he actually wanted to know more, wanted to know what made this woman tick, what led to her feeling like such a disappointment to herself and others.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You said your ex, for one. So there were others…"
"Oh. Yeah. I mean, no. Not like you're thinking. My parents." Ah. Now Ian could see where the root of her sadness came from. It didn't get any deeper than that. Lucy drew in a deep breath. "My father died in a car accident when I was twelve. My mother fell into a deep depression. Six months later, she committed suicide. She couldn't live without him."
Bloody hell.
She said it so matter-of-fact, as though it no longer hurt. But he knew that was a lie. Lucy's mother had left her child alone when she needed her the most. No doubt it had left her feeling like she wasn't worth living for. He felt blind-sided and hurt for her. Angry, too.
"So there ya go,"' she added with a thin smile. "Sorry you asked?"
Was he?
"No," he answered, honestly. "Not sorry at all."
She shifted, facing him, and let the side of her head rest against the wall. "Your turn."
"Not much to tell."
"Right. Scared?" Her gaze went challenging. "Dare I say, chicken?"
Ian laughed. Lucy was smart, funny, and she obviously loved her family—otherwise she wouldn't have traveled across the Atlantic to help out her cousin. She had a quirkiness about her, which he thought was sexy as hell. It didn't hurt she was a stunner with those big brown eyes, sweet lips, and that infuriating ponytail. "Your ex was an idiot."
Her smile faltered. Pink crept into her cheeks. Silence swept in, filling the space between them with awkwardness. His mouth went dry. She was looking at him with a mix of interest and anxiety that made his heart pound. Then, she licked and bit her lip. A flash of teeth and tongue. Hell. That did all kinds of things to his resolve.
Screw it. She'd started it by kissing him last night; he might as well finish it right.
He leaned forward, slipped his hand behind her head, and pulled her in.
A fraction before his lips touched hers, he paused. He loved this moment, the way anticipation shot straight through his chest and exploded in his stomach. Lucy hadn't pulled back. In fact, she fisted his shirt, pulled him closer with a hitch in her breath, and kissed him. Again.
He sent up a silent prayer of thanks, then licked her bottom lip. As she opened her mouth and he slipped inside, an arc of lust slammed him hard and he felt it all the way to his toes. He deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers hot and slow and thorough just like he liked it, just like he'd wanted to do the first time she'd kissed him.
Lucy moaned and wrapped her arms around him, sliding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and pressing her breasts against his chest. He cursed in appreciation, a faint whisper against her lips, feeling lost and reckless. And not himself. And sure as hell not flatlined.
Chapter 7
Her blood rushed heavy through her veins. Her heart was going a mile a minute. The feel of his warm lips making their way to her neck made her shiver. His hands slid under her shirt and up her back. They were hot, the palms rough and big.
All he had to do was dip a hand inside her shorts and she'd go off like a firecracker.
And that scared her, the intensity she felt, the swift and surprising rise of it.
Lucy broke the kiss, her hands on his chest. Ian's heart hammered hard and strong against her palm. They stared at each other, speechless, breathless, dazed.
After a moment, he reached up and grabbed her hands at his chest and held them there. "This is the second time you kissed me," he said
Similar Books
