A Better Man(95)

He'd cried for his parents. Lost sleep over the visions of the horrific way they'd died. And now he knew he had to honor them by doing what was right for the family.

Once they'd finished dinner, Jordan strolled around a section of the several hundred acres that made up Sunshine Creek Vineyards. With a fresh eye, he noticed things he'd forgotten from his youth. Like the peaceful sound of the creek bubbling over rocks, sand, and the occasional waterfall. Or how the deer came down to the pasture across the creek to graze on freshly sprouted grass. He noticed how much property stood vacant and available for the possibility of expansion while still maintaining the integrity of the serene surroundings.



       
         
       
        

When he finally got back to his grandfather's cabin he showered, threw on a pair of sweatpants, and grabbed a bottle of Naked Blonde Ale from the refrigerator. Mulling over the ideas he'd come up with for the vineyards, he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. He finally stopped on Tombstone where Doc Holliday was once again stealing the show with his huckleberry line.

The sudden pounding on the door came as a surprise. Figuring Ethan had decided to come over for a beer, he opened the door.

Not his brother.

Instead Lucy stood there in a knee-­length buttoned-­up sweater and black boots. Her hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders and her dark eyes behind those dark-­framed glasses took a slow ride over his body.

"Oh good." She settled her fingers on his chest and pushed him back into the room. "You're already half naked."

Jordan's heart jumped when her hands were suddenly all over his bare chest and shoulders. They dipped provocatively beneath the waistband of his sweats and sent a hot shot of lust straight to his dick.

"Not that I don't like what you're doing," he said, sliding his hands to her hips and holding on, "but what are you doing here?"

Head slightly tilted, she looked up at him and her luscious lips tipped in a beguiling smile. "Seducing you."

"Sweet." He pulled her against him. "But I have to warn you that you probably won't have to work all that hard."

"Maybe you could pretend."

"I don't think so. You feel what's going on beneath these sweatpants?"

Her hand slid south and she gave him a squeeze. "Feels like a promise of good things to come."

"Oh, it's a promise all right. But I'll try to behave and let you take control."

"Or . . ." While one hand stroked him, she slipped the other soft hand around the back of his neck and pressed her firm, plump breasts against his chest. "You could be bad and still let me take control."

"I like the way you think, schoolteacher."

"That's good. But do you like the way I do . . . this?"

She lifted to the toes of her boots and kissed him.

Slow.

Wet.

Delicious.

She tasted like butterscotch candy and desire. Then her soft, moist lips traveled to the side of his neck, where she sucked the flesh into her warm mouth, and a hot mass of tingles shot through his blood. He couldn't remember ever being seduced. He'd always been the one who made the moves. With Lucy, he was enjoying the hell out of the other side. For a woman who'd seen her share of misery, he liked knowing she felt confident enough with him to be assertive. It was a hell of a turn-­on. 

He moaned. "I love the way you do that."

Her palms flattened against his chest as her lips moved downward. Kissing. Tasting. Licking.

He wanted to touch her so bad it hurt. But he'd promised to be good. Then again, she'd told him it was okay to be bad. He hooked his hands around her waist, pressed her back against the wall, and leaned in for a kiss that went from hot to scorching in 0.2 seconds. Their tongues tangled and danced. Swept, withdrew, and plunged. And then she reversed their positions. Suddenly he had his back against the wall.

When he reached for her she stepped away, licked her lips, and looked up at him from beneath those thick, sooty lashes. He didn't know exactly what she had in mind, but he was game for anything.

Her fingers went to the top button of her sweater and unbuttoned it. Then slowly she made her way down to the rest of the buttons. It soon became clear that his sweet little schoolteacher was completely naked beneath that prim and proper garment. She held out her arms and shrugged the sweater off. As it pooled on the ground, his woman stood before him in nothing but sweet-­smelling skin and a pair of black high-­heeled boots.

"Damn, baby. You're making me so hard I can't think."

"Good." She came closer. "I don't want you to think. I just want you to touch." She took his hands and placed them on her breasts.