Midnight Kiss (Men of Midnight #7) - Lisa Marie Rice Page 0,79

two steps to the table. In those two steps, he managed to get all her clothes off. Hope didn’t know how he managed it, all she knew was that their mouths were separated for a moment and she felt cool air on her chest. Her pants — she had no idea what happened to them. By some miracle, Luke was naked too.

His hand travelled down her body, thumb brushing over a nipple that was so sensitive it was almost painful, over her belly and down. He cupped her, where she was wet for him. Hope covered his hand with hers and pressed down.

He pushed out a breath, lifted her onto the table and stepped between her legs. Oh God, she was on fire.

Something crackled and she realized he’d had the presence of mind to put on a condom. The time it took him to put it on, leaning away from her, was intolerable. She needed to touch all of him she could because Luke was life itself. Was heat and light and life. A part of her had been dead all her life and was now fully alive.

Luke entered her and she arched her back in pleasure. They were both so excited that it didn’t last long, but then it didn’t have to. They held each other tightly as she convulsed. One hard stroke, then another and he followed her.

Luke’s sweaty face fell onto her shoulder as he panted, “I’ll get it right

next time. But we’ll need to be in the bed.”

She held his head, smiling at the ceiling, happy.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go to bed.”

Luke lay in bed, one hand behind his head, one arm around his woman. She wasn’t asleep but she wasn’t quite awake, either. If she felt anything like him, she was boneless with pleasure.

Luke felt — well, he felt great. Better than he had in years. If he weren’t feeling so very relaxed, like someone had massaged him nearly to death, he’d have jumped out of bed and gone for a fifty-mile run. Or done a hundred pushups. He felt perfectly capable of doing them except he was really comfortable where he was and anyway, he didn’t want to disturb Hope. He tried to think of her as Cathy but it didn’t fit. Hope was Hope and that was exactly what he felt right now. Hope.

Frank Glass’s video was now at ASI and they were taking care to show it to a select group of responsible journalists that Summer, Jack Delvaux’s wife, had chosen. Summer had run one of the country’s best political blogs, Area8, until she started writing books. But the fiery investigative journalist was still there and she had the grenade in her hands, finger in the pin, ready to pull.

Her hands were steady.

They were safe.

Hope’s secrets were now out in the light of day and sunlight disinfected. It also set free. She was going to be fiercely protected until the story came out and the Redfields couldn’t hurt her. She had nothing to be afraid of now and soon could get on with her life. Which Luke was determined would include him. No question. He was not letting her go.

No other woman intrigued him like she did, with her superpower intelligence and that delicate fairy-like beauty. She was pure magic and she was the opposite of heavy maintenance. The few women he’d dated these past years had been like work. A job, and not a pleasant one at that. He’d spent his time slaloming around the poles of their obsessions and dislikes and feelings. They’d constantly sought reassurance about their looks, taking offense when he had no idea he’d said something wrong. Crumbling at the first sign of difficulty.

Luke had almost convinced himself there was something deeply wrong with him. That he was too old-fashioned, too cold, too hot, too stiff, too loose, too much or not enough. Something. Relationships were so fucking hard and he just didn’t seem to have the knack.

And then, Hope. Who was as low maintenance as they come. If anything he found himself all but doing cartwheels in front of her to get her attention when she was immersed in her computer, conjuring up God knows what dark arts. It was a little exciting that she was smarter than he was. Well, a lot exciting. He didn’t care, his ego wasn’t bruised. He was a better shot than she was. We all have our talents.

In a terrible situation, with her life on the line and on the