Besides, she and Lucas still weren’t dating. Maybe it was okay to let her spouse know she was into him. In a strictly hot for his body kind of way.
Once at home, she stopped in the kitchen to get a glass of water and drank it while standing at the sink. Before she could swallow the second mouthful, said spouse blew through the door, startling her into dropping the glass into the sink.
“What are you doing home?” she asked.
Lucas strode toward her in a dark suit, which encased his shoulders with perfection, and a dark, impossible-to-misread expression on his face. Raw masculinity whipped through the kitchen to engulf her a moment before the man did.
He caught her in his arms and kissed her, openmouthed, hungrily, working her backward until her butt hit the countertop’s edge.
She was trapped between hard granite and hard Lucas, and he was devouring her whole with his mouth. A whirlwind of desire kicked up in her center.
Dull thunks registered, and Lucas’s hands delved inside her shirt, yanking down her bra and palming her breasts. Buttons. He’d popped all the buttons on her shirt and they’d thunked to the floor.
Four seconds later, he stripped her. Then he tore off his jacket, ripped the rest of his clothes half off and boosted her onto the counter. Cold stone cooled her bare bottom and sizzled against her fevered core.
Less than five minutes after he’d walked in the door, he spread her legs wide and plunged in with a heavy groan.
She dropped into the spiral of need and hooked her legs behind him, urging him on. His mouth was everywhere, hot and insatiable. His thrusts were hard, fast. She met him each time, already eager for the next one. Pinpoints of sensation swirled and then burst as she came, milking his climax.
What happened to slow down?
They slumped together, chests heaving, her head on his shoulder and his head on hers. She put her arms around him for support since her spine had been replaced with Jell-O.
“Um, hi,” she said, without a trace of irony. If this was what their relationship would look like going forward, the view agreed with her quite well.
“Hi,” he repeated, and she heard the smile in his voice.
“How was your day?”
He laughed and it rumbled against her abdomen. “Unproductive except for the last ten minutes. You distracted me all day. Don’t disappear tomorrow morning. I’d like to wake up with you.”
The explosive countertop sex had been hot, but the simplicity, the normalcy, of his request warmed her. “It’s not my fault you’re such a heavy sleeper. Set an alarm.”
“Maybe I will.” Carefully, he separated from her and trashed the condom. He helped her to the floor and gathered up her clothes, which he handed off, then began pulling on his own clothes with casual nonchalance. “I have another favor. I swear I was going to ask first but, darlin’, you have to stop looking at me like that when I come in.”
When his muscled, inked torso disappeared behind his ruined shirt, she sighed. Those tribal tattoos symbolized Lucas to a T—untamed, unexpected and thoroughly hidden beneath the surface. One of his many layers few people were aware existed, let alone privileged enough to experience. How lucky was she?
“You looked at me first.” Of course, he always looked at her like a chocoholic with unlimited credit at the door of a sweetshop. “What’s the favor? Do I get another dress out of the deal?”
He grinned and kissed her hand. “Of course. Except this time, I intend to take it off of you afterward.”
“Or during.” She shrugged and opted to toss her irreparable blouse in the trash. Lucas might end up buying her a new wardrobe after all, by default. “You know, if it’s boring and you happen to spy a coat closet or whatever.”
His irises flared with heat and zinged her right in the abdomen. “Why, Mrs. Wheeler, that is indeed a fine offer. I will surely keep it under advisement. Come with me and let’s see about your dress.”
Mrs. Wheeler. He’d called her that before, and it was her official title, so it shouldn’t lodge in her windpipe, cutting off her air supply.
But it did. Maybe because she’d just been the recipient of a mind-blowing climax courtesy of Mr. Wheeler.
He took her hand and led her upstairs, where the couture fairies had left a garment bag hanging over her closet door. Her fake husband was a man of many, many talents, and she appreciated every last one.
“By the way,” Lucas said. “When I ran into the maid earlier, I told her we’d had a little misunderstanding about a former girlfriend, but you were noble enough to get past it. I hope that’s okay. Any excuse for why we weren’t sharing a bedroom is better than nothing, right?”