More Than a Convenient Bride(8)

"Come sit down," Luc said, holding out his hand for her to take. She  twined her fingers through his, intending to sit in the empty chair  beside him, but Luc had other ideas. He tugged her down onto his lap  instead, and up went her heart, right into her throat. He slipped one  arm around her and settled his palm against her stomach, his thumb  grazing the underside of her breast as he did, and the other hand came  to rest on her bare knee. What if that hand were to slide up the inside  of her thigh under her dress? Would she stop him? Could she?

She glanced over at Beth, whose smile seemed to say, I told you so.

She realized just then, with no small amount of anticipation, that if  Luc decided he wanted her, there wasn't a damned thing she could do  about it.





 Five

They didn't get home until eleven-it was a little weird to think of  Luc's house as home-and they were both bushed. It had been a long and  exhausting evening spent in a near-constant state of arousal, but now it  was time to shut it down. The wedding was over and they were back to  being friends.

Luc walked her to her bedroom door, which was directly across the hall  from his own. She expected a hug and a kiss, even if it was just on her  cheek, but she got neither.

"Well, good night," he said, shutting the door to his room firmly behind him.

She stood in the hallway alone, wondering what just happened. After  having his hands on her all evening, that was the best he could do? He  could just walk away without even acknowledging it?

What if he was having second thoughts? What if he realized he didn't  want to be married? He'd been exceedingly quiet on the drive home-there  was that word again...home. He could be in his room right now, pacing  the floor in a panic, thinking that maybe they should get the marriage  annulled.                       
       
           



       

There was no way she could fall asleep with this hanging over her. She  had to know what was going on in his head, before she let herself get  too comfortable.

Was she really home, or wasn't she?

Taking a minute or two to think it over, she devised a genius plan to  engage him in a conversation. Once she got him talking, she could spring  her suspicions on him and see how he reacted.

Feeling confident that she was doing the right thing, she rapped softly  on his door. He opened it several seconds later wearing silk pajama  bottoms slung low on his hips, his chest bare.

Oh good Lord.

She had seen him bare chested plenty of times in the past, but it  occurred to her that she had never actually seen him. Only now did she  really notice and appreciate the lean muscles of his torso. The  sprinkling of dark hair that circled his navel and disappeared under his  waistband. Wide chest, above average pecs. He was beautiful.

He hadn't even touched her and she was feeling all tingly again.

He leaned against the doorjamb. "Everything okay?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I wondered if you could unzip me. My dress, I mean."

His brow rose. "Seriously?"

Was that such an odd request? "Yes, seriously. I can't reach it."

He folded his arms, looking amused. And sexy as hell. How had she not  noticed before how insanely gorgeous he was? Had she been wearing  blinders all these years?

"So what you're telling me is that if I weren't here to unzip you, you would be stuck in your dress indefinitely?"

She blinked. "Well...no, but-"

"If you're going to make up an excuse to come to my room, you could be a little more imaginative, don't you think?"

Boy, did he have her number.

"You were so quiet on the way home I was afraid something was wrong,"  she said. "I thought that maybe you were having second thoughts about  this."

"Then, why didn't you just say that?"

Because...well, she didn't exactly know why. She'd never had a problem  being totally honest with him before they were married. Maybe this time  she was afraid of the answer she might get. But she had to know.

"So, are you?" she asked him.

"Am I what?"

"Having second thoughts?"

He shook his head and said, "Nope."

She waited for more, for some sort of assurance everything was fine, but he just stood there looking at her.

Oooookay.

"You were very distant on the ride home. Then we got here and, well..."  Why was this so hard to say? He wasn't helping matters, standing there  all sexy and gorgeous, his eyes locked on hers.

"We got here and what?"

"We're married now. I figured you would at least hug me good night or something. Maybe a kiss on the cheek?"

"You don't want me to do that."

"I don't?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Suffice it to say, I'm a little...overstimulated."

Oh, this was interesting. Now they were getting somewhere. "So, you're turned on."

He trained his eyes on her and...whoa. The heat smoldering in their  dark depths could have burned a hole through her dress. That was a  definite yes. Her heart flip-flopped, making her pulse race and her  mouth go dry.

"You want the truth?" he said.

She nodded.

He leaned in just a little closer. "I wanted everyone to leave the  reception so I could lock the door, strip you naked, spread you on the  table and lick wedding cake off every inch of your body."

"Every inch?"

He grinned. "Every inch."

She knew there was a reason she should have wrapped up the leftover cake and brought it home.

"However," he added, "friends don't do that."

"Some friends do. And I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that we have to  consummate the marriage to make it official and legally binding."

"And I'm pretty sure you just made that up."

Yes, she had made it up. But she needed to kiss him again, feel his  hands on her. Right now. Without her clothes getting in the way. It was  their wedding night for heaven's sake. Hadn't she earned the right to  jump his bones? Just this once? Would that really be such a terrible  thing? Their friendship was solid. It would take a lot more than one  night of sex to come between them. Or even two or three nights.

His pajama bottoms did little to hide the erection pushing outward as  if it was reaching for her touch. And oh, did she want to touch him.                       
       
           



       

One strategically placed hand and he would be toast. Not to toot her  own horn, but she knew her way around the male body. He wouldn't be able  to resist her, and he damn sure would walk away thoroughly satisfied.  "So, you don't think we should sleep together?"

"I didn't say that."

What did he want her to do? Get down on her knees and beg? "You didn't not say it, either."

"It's been an emotional day, and we've had a lot to drink-"

"Oh, I get it. Say no more. I would never want you to, you know, embarrass yourself."

His brows jumped upward. He knew she was up to something, and clearly  he was enjoying the game just as much as she was. Verbal foreplay was  highly underrated.

"Embarrass myself how?"

"You're worried about your performance. Alcohol can make things a little, well, limp."

He glanced down to his crotch, then back up to her. "That's obviously not the case."

No, it wasn't. And enough playing around already. She was ready to get to the good stuff.

"Are you sure?" She reached out and wrapped her hand around his hard-on  through his pajamas, giving it a firm squeeze. Holy cow, he was big.

Luc groaned and leaned into her hand, clutching the doorjamb in a  white-knuckled grip, his eyes never leaving her face. He was hers, no  question.

"I guess you're right-everything seems to be in working order. But just  to be sure..." She slipped her hand under his waistband and around his  erection, skin against skin, giving it a couple of slow strokes, teasing  the tip with the pad of her thumb. "Feels good to me."

His eyes turned black with desire. She almost had him. Most men would have caved by now, but Luc had a steel will.

"You're positively sure you want to do this?" he said.

At this point, how could he even ask her that? Wasn't it obvious that she wanted him? "Without a doubt."

"You're not worried that it will change things between us?"

"One time? It's not as if we're going to make a habit of this." She  squeezed and felt him pulse against her palm. "Besides, we spent half  the day making out and now I'm standing here with my hand in your pants.  If something was going to change, wouldn't it have already?"

"So what you're saying is, the damage is already done?"

"In a manner of speaking." He was making a bigger deal out of this than  was warranted. But he was a planner. He liked to think ahead, plot out  his every move. Which, she supposed, was why he was such an accomplished  surgeon. She, on the other hand, was more of a live-in-the-moment,  fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants girl. They sat on opposite ends of the  spectrum. He was all about duty and honor and doing the right thing. She  believed in trying new things and taking chances. Living life to the  fullest and going where the wind took her.