No More Mr. Nice - By Renee Roszel Page 0,64

so much, he’d shut himself off from emotional connections. He made sure he discarded relationships before they could discard him. That’s why the Mary Anne Browns of the world waited in vain for his call. He’d promised himself never to put his heart in jeopardy again. She couldn’t really blame him. People defended themselves from hurt in many different ways. Lucas had obviously chosen to place his trust and his passions in the logical, unemotional world of computers.

And this cottage had become a shrine of sorts, a cherished monument to what he’d called “another life”—a life in which he’d felt loved and secure, one that his young, broken heart had convinced him could never be his again.

A footstep on the porch made her stiffen. Then she realized it was someone returning with her clothes. When the door opened, she stared in astonishment and her breath caught in her chest. Lucas stood there.

Framed in the doorway, an overnight bag clenched in his hand, he was painfully arresting, clad in close-fitting jeans and a bulky white turtleneck that accentuated the width of his shoulders. Firelight and shadow played on his solemn face, giving it a bold and primitive look. Silently, he entered the cottage and closed the door behind him.

She held herself very still, the familiar heat of desire washing over her against her will. “Lucas,” she breathed. “I thought—What are you doing here?”

He dropped the bag on a chair, quickly closed the distance between them and crushed her in the strong warmth of his arms. “Damn me to hell if I know why,” he growled, his tone hoarse with self-reproach. “I may be out of your system, Jess. But, you’re not out of mine.” Lifting her, he settled her on the bed, then hovered inches above her, imprisoning her between his arms and the looming promise of his body. “Give me tonight,” he coaxed roughly, his eyes searching hers with such erotic purpose that her heart turned over in response.

Her thoughts in a jumble, she swept her gaze over his face, down his lean cheeks to the sharp, chiseled lines of his tensed jaw, then back to his lips—those wonderful, tormenting lips that could thrill her to mindless distraction. There was nothing she wanted more in life than to give herself to him—now and all the rest of her days. But having discovered his fear, his reason for rejecting love, she was terrified to let herself say yes. She didn’t want to be just another Mary Anne Brown to him. She loved him. She knew it now, and that knowledge filled her with trembling dread.

“Lucas…” she tried, but her voice failed her. Frantically, she turned away, struggling to maintain a shred of composure. “You have a right, I suppose, since I—I started this thing.” He didn’t answer, forcing her to look into his blazing eyes.

“Don’t talk like a failure. You don’t owe me a thing,” he ground out. “Don’t give yourself to me as a sleazy consolation prize. You’re an intelligent, accomplished woman, Jess. Either you want me, or you don’t.” His dark, compelling eyes raked her face, searching for truth. “Just tell me what you want. It’s as simple as that.”

Oh, if it were only that simple, Lucas! her mind cried. But her foolish willful arms paid no heed as they curled about his neck and drew him down to her.

12

His kisses were blissfully bruising and she gave herself freely to his passions, knowing that what they shared tonight would have to last her for the rest of her life. Tomorrow was the final day of the retreat. After the barn dance and closing ceremony, the kids and volunteers would vacate Lucas Brand’s grounds—and his life.

It was hard to imagine that only a scant two weeks ago she’d despised this man, thinking him cold, like her father and her husband. But now she knew that beneath the aloof facade he was a feeling human being, a truly nice guy—but a man afraid to be vulnerable.

Jess had only a few short hours to indulge in the joys of his hidden, passionate side. The tender hunger of his kisses shattered her, a heady punishment for her foolishness in beginning this crazy affair. But she couldn’t feel any regret while his tongue was sending shivers of desire through her, and the hot exploration of his hands made her body tremble, and her limbs cling to him desperately.

His lips trailed down, deliriously teasing, and she moaned in anticipation. With each tormenting kiss, he paused