“For what?”
Gently he ran the tip of his index finger over her soft mouth.
“For giving me these hours of sleep. I don’t know why but I could not have had them on my own.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“When Aloysius was—when he was very sick, there were times I was so tired I could hardly hold my head up. Still, I’d get into bed and lie there, wide-awake.” She took a breath, then let it out in a soft sigh that flowed over his fingers like silk. “I didn’t love him the way you love your grandfather but it’s hard to watch when someone who’s been part
of your life is suffering.”
Lucas smiled. “Does my love for Felix show?”
“Like a badge of honor.” She smiled, too. “He must love you the same way.”
Lucas’s smile tilted. “Amazing,” he said softly, “but I have never before lain with a woman and discussed my feelings for my grandfather.”
Color rose to her face. “You haven’t exactly lain with me, Lucas.”
“No.” His voice grew husky. “I have not.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lifted to her eyes. “All the more reason for me to leave your bed, amada. But first, a kiss good night.”
Her breathing quickened. “I don’t think that’s—”
“One kiss,” he whispered, and took her mouth. Gently. No force. No coercion. If she tried to stop him, he would stop.
He would die…but he would stop.
But she didn’t stop him.
Instead the sound she made against his lips was so delicate it made his heart pound.
“Lucas,” she said against his mouth. “Lucas…”
He answered by cupping her face with his hands.
She answered by parting her lips to his.
The taste of her made his head swim. She was honey. She was the richest Spanish sherry made from the ripest fruit, sweet and warm from the sun.
Her hands rose. Threaded into his hair. He groaned and slipped his tongue between her lips, felt her momentary hesitation and then she made another of those little sounds that drove him half out of his mind and sucked delicately on the tip.
A rush of heat sizzled through his body.
Leave her bed now, Lucas.
He could hear the voice inside him, hear its tone of command but he could no more obey that order than he could stop the tide of desire rising within him.
He couldn’t leave her. She didn’t want him to leave her. Not if she was looping her arms around his neck and drawing him even closer.
So close that he stopped thinking.
Touch. Taste. Smell. Sound. Those were the only things that mattered. The taste of her skin, there. Right there, in the hollow of her throat. At the juncture of throat and shoulder. At the elegant angle of her collarbone…
Alyssa trembled in his arms.
“Lucas,” she whispered, “ohmygod, Lucas…”