Take the Heat

“I’m not,” Lucy told him. “Caroline believes you, too. It’s just my mom who’s closed-minded about all this stuff. She can’t set aside the accusation and see the acquittal.”

When he let go of her, air surged into her lungs so hard it hurt. He surprised her by saying, “Don’t worry what your mother thinks.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lucy asked. “My mom thinks you’re a murderer. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Nope.” Sitting on the arm of the couch, he drew her playfully into his lap.

As he bounced her on his knee, she couldn’t help laughing. “Stop it, Sean! Can’t you be serious for a second?”

“I’ve been serious for many, many seconds—minutes, even. Hours at a time!” He nuzzled her neck. “Serious is highly overrated.”

She had to respect his wishes. After all, he’d been forced to spend time in jail, awaiting a trial for things he didn’t do. The whole country was still convinced he’d killed that woman, raped her too. Who was Lucy to tell him how he should feel?

“I love your neck,” he said as he planted baby kisses all the way to her jawline. “Right here. This spot.”

The way his lips warmed her flesh sparked a tingle in her core. His hand followed that tingle, resting on her belly gently and then moving in slow circles, lower, parting her thighs enough to rub between them. She swelled for him as his mouth found hers. God, was his tongue ever strong. Every time he kissed her, she felt his tongue like a ghost against her clit. It was just her imagination, she knew, but the sensation was so realistic that her jeans suddenly felt two sizes too small.

“Come on, babe.” She slid out of his lap, tugging him toward the bedroom. “I’ll strip for you.”

“Oh, you think so?” He darted up from the couch and, coming in behind her, wrapped his prison-sculpted arms around her neck.

“Sean…” It was a variation on a hug. Sometimes he didn’t realize his own strength, didn’t seem to sense that his grip was too tight. “Let go. I can’t breathe.”

“I know you can’t.” His voice was a seductive growl, like he wanted her to acknowledge that his love exerted total power over her. “Don’t you like it?”

“No.” It hurt. She tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. “Stop.”

All at once, he let go. Just like that. Easy.

When Lucy touched the sensitive place where his arms had been, Sean laughed. “Let’s go out for a bit.”

Dazed, she asked, “Out where? Should I change?”

“Nah,” he said and then swiftly changed his tune. “Actually, yeah. Put on that dress I like.”

He didn’t have to explain. She knew exactly which one he meant, and closed the bedroom door as she slipped out of her jeans. Christ, were her panties ever slick! He’d really turned her on just then. Was it the kissing or the roughhousing? Her mom would read too much into the way he’d grabbed her just then, taking her neck too tightly in his arms. The truth was that every guy she’d been with had enjoyed the rough stuff. Her mind didn’t want to want it, but her body knew better.

Lucy slipped her gauzy summer dress over her head and tied the halter around the back of her neck. She couldn’t feel his touch anymore, and she missed it. Where was he taking her? Hopefully somewhere they could sneak away for a naughty moment alone.

She never wore a bra with this dress, but the top part was fitted enough to keep her small breasts in check. If she didn’t put on panties, would anyone be able to make out the curly orange wisps of her pubic hair? She tried out every angle in front of the mirror and finally decided she didn’t care whether people could see through the fabric. She’d be on Sean’s arm. She’d dress for him alone.

“No heels,” he said through the door. “Flats.”

Lucy kicked off the shoes she’d just slid her feet into, and put on ballet flats instead. Very cute.

“Okay, I’m ready.” She threw open the door and paraded down the hall like it was her own personal runway. “Tell me what you think.”

The gleam in his eyes said it all, but he didn’t stop there. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her into his arms, crushing her small body to his chest. He kissed again, more forcefully than before, running one hand down her ass and squeezing.

“You’re wearing a thong,” he growled, his breath hot on her ear.

“No.” She pulled up on her cotton skirt. “I’m not.”

She held his sizzling gaze as he swooped his hand around the base of her bum. His fingers teased her flesh as she parted her legs, just slightly, for him. The moment he dabbed into her wetness, his eyes lit up. She could taste his hunger.

“Bad girl,” he said in a way Lucy couldn’t quite read. Was he aroused or angry? That expression could have gone either way.

He answered her silent question with a smack.