Becoming Rain
Page 64
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Dammit. It’s going to be a long night. “Follow her lead . . . follow her lead . . .” I mutter, ducking back into my room. I toss my suit jacket toward a small table. Missing it completely. My fingers fumble with the buttons on my shirt. Stripping off my pants and shirt, I throw them on top of my jacket and then drop down to begin my obsessive nightly regime. Because, fuck, maybe that’ll keep me from heading back out and knocking on her door.
It’s not helping. The push-ups are damn painful, actually. I’m halfway through my reps, lying flat on my stomach, and ready to give my hand a workout so I can finish, when I hear the lightest knock on the door. So quiet that I may be imagining it.
Still, I bolt for the door.
Rain stands there, tucking strands of hair behind her ear in that nervous way. She lifts her fingers to my mouth and steps into me, forcing me backward. Pressing the door shut with her body—in a worn Washington Capitals T-shirt that is so threadbare I can see the curves of her body and a hint of skin underneath—she reaches back to latch the door.
Chapter 32
CLARA
“Do you always answer the door in your underwear?” I can’t help but marvel at the ridges in his stomach, a perfectly formed eight-pack of muscle. By the light sheen over his chest and the tension in his muscles, I know he was doing his nightly workout.
And I’m assuming the prominent erection is the same one from hours ago.
Luke’s eyes are taking all of me in. I purposely wore this T-shirt. It may not be sexy black lace, but that would be too overt an attempt at seducing him. It just grazes the tops of my thighs. It’s soft and paper thin and so worn that it’s borderline see-through. And there’s nothing underneath it to obscure his view of me, one he seems to be appreciating.
He must know why I’m here. I made a point of locking the door and all.
But am I doing the right thing? Too many thoughts are swirling inside my head right now. My worry for him after Elmira’s subtle warning, her not-so-subtle push for intimacy as a way to get the information that I want, the pressure of the case and the need to get something valuable out of this trip. The fact that I want to get closer to Luke, for reasons other than the case.
When I snuck upstairs and overheard Aref suggest to Luke that he shouldn’t be in a relationship right now, I panicked and committed to this plan. Above all else, I can’t risk my connection with him.
Because maybe I can help him. Maybe he doesn’t have to go down in this mess, once everything is exposed.
I spy his suit in a rumpled mess on the floor beside me. “You really shouldn’t leave this lying here like this. You’ll ruin it.” Leaning over to pick it up, I hear his sharp inhale as the back of my shirt rides up to far beyond inappropriate.
I take my time, draping his jacket and pants over the chair before turning back to find his piercing blue eyes blazing. And I know I’ve gone past the point where I could just turn around and walk out. So I close the distance, until I’m a mere foot away. I reach up and begin tracing the slick ripples in his stomach with my fingertips, something I’ve longed to do for weeks. “You’re somewhat fanatical about your body, aren’t you?”
The smile has fallen off, replaced with an almost pained expression, his fingers balled into fists at his sides.
He’s waiting for me, just like he said he would.
Pressing my palm against his chest, I step in until I’m close enough that his breath tickles my cheek. I let my mouth graze his neck, my own breath skating across it until goose bumps erupt on him.
That must be his breaking point because his hands are on me in the next instant—one grasping the back of my neck and the other one roped around my back to pull me tight. My T-shirt bunched in his fist, the cool air cascading over my bare skin.
“Lights?” I catch a glimpse out through one of the two large oval windows to the sea beyond. Anyone out there can see in. And, by anyone, I mean my surveillance team. I’m not risking them watching me do this.
Luke obliges, pulling me backward with him to the bed, fumbling with the switch without ever leaving my lips. The cabin is thrown into darkness, save for the natural moonlight streaming in through the panoramic windows. Streaming in such a perfect way that I can still see him clearly beneath me as he sits down, pulling me on top to straddle his lap. He has my T-shirt up and over my head in seconds.
“Well, that was fast,” he smirks, breaking free long enough to let his gaze travel down over my breasts, my stomach, and farther down, to where nothing but a thin layer of his cotton separates us.
“I guess I should have made it a little more difficult,” I tease, reveling in the heat radiating off him.
“No, I think I prefer easy.” He chuckles at his own joke, leaning down and taking one of my nipples into his mouth, his large hands a warm expanse over my hips as he pulls me hard against him. It’s impossible for me not to grind myself against him.
And tell myself over and over again that this is okay because it’s for the job, even though my conscience isn’t buying it anymore.
Luke flips me over and rests me on the bed as if I weigh nothing, his tall frame looming over me for several long moments, his gaze shifting from one body part to the next.
I’m fairly confident about my body—I work hard enough to maintain it—but being under such intense scrutiny by someone so beautiful, so sculpted, starts to make me feel self-conscious.
“No, don’t,” he warns, his hands gently touching my knees, stopping them from closing completely. “You’re perfect. Almost too perfect.” He pushes his boxer briefs down and climbs onto the bed to fit himself in between my legs, forcing my thighs apart. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even real.”
It’s not helping. The push-ups are damn painful, actually. I’m halfway through my reps, lying flat on my stomach, and ready to give my hand a workout so I can finish, when I hear the lightest knock on the door. So quiet that I may be imagining it.
Still, I bolt for the door.
Rain stands there, tucking strands of hair behind her ear in that nervous way. She lifts her fingers to my mouth and steps into me, forcing me backward. Pressing the door shut with her body—in a worn Washington Capitals T-shirt that is so threadbare I can see the curves of her body and a hint of skin underneath—she reaches back to latch the door.
Chapter 32
CLARA
“Do you always answer the door in your underwear?” I can’t help but marvel at the ridges in his stomach, a perfectly formed eight-pack of muscle. By the light sheen over his chest and the tension in his muscles, I know he was doing his nightly workout.
And I’m assuming the prominent erection is the same one from hours ago.
Luke’s eyes are taking all of me in. I purposely wore this T-shirt. It may not be sexy black lace, but that would be too overt an attempt at seducing him. It just grazes the tops of my thighs. It’s soft and paper thin and so worn that it’s borderline see-through. And there’s nothing underneath it to obscure his view of me, one he seems to be appreciating.
He must know why I’m here. I made a point of locking the door and all.
But am I doing the right thing? Too many thoughts are swirling inside my head right now. My worry for him after Elmira’s subtle warning, her not-so-subtle push for intimacy as a way to get the information that I want, the pressure of the case and the need to get something valuable out of this trip. The fact that I want to get closer to Luke, for reasons other than the case.
When I snuck upstairs and overheard Aref suggest to Luke that he shouldn’t be in a relationship right now, I panicked and committed to this plan. Above all else, I can’t risk my connection with him.
Because maybe I can help him. Maybe he doesn’t have to go down in this mess, once everything is exposed.
I spy his suit in a rumpled mess on the floor beside me. “You really shouldn’t leave this lying here like this. You’ll ruin it.” Leaning over to pick it up, I hear his sharp inhale as the back of my shirt rides up to far beyond inappropriate.
I take my time, draping his jacket and pants over the chair before turning back to find his piercing blue eyes blazing. And I know I’ve gone past the point where I could just turn around and walk out. So I close the distance, until I’m a mere foot away. I reach up and begin tracing the slick ripples in his stomach with my fingertips, something I’ve longed to do for weeks. “You’re somewhat fanatical about your body, aren’t you?”
The smile has fallen off, replaced with an almost pained expression, his fingers balled into fists at his sides.
He’s waiting for me, just like he said he would.
Pressing my palm against his chest, I step in until I’m close enough that his breath tickles my cheek. I let my mouth graze his neck, my own breath skating across it until goose bumps erupt on him.
That must be his breaking point because his hands are on me in the next instant—one grasping the back of my neck and the other one roped around my back to pull me tight. My T-shirt bunched in his fist, the cool air cascading over my bare skin.
“Lights?” I catch a glimpse out through one of the two large oval windows to the sea beyond. Anyone out there can see in. And, by anyone, I mean my surveillance team. I’m not risking them watching me do this.
Luke obliges, pulling me backward with him to the bed, fumbling with the switch without ever leaving my lips. The cabin is thrown into darkness, save for the natural moonlight streaming in through the panoramic windows. Streaming in such a perfect way that I can still see him clearly beneath me as he sits down, pulling me on top to straddle his lap. He has my T-shirt up and over my head in seconds.
“Well, that was fast,” he smirks, breaking free long enough to let his gaze travel down over my breasts, my stomach, and farther down, to where nothing but a thin layer of his cotton separates us.
“I guess I should have made it a little more difficult,” I tease, reveling in the heat radiating off him.
“No, I think I prefer easy.” He chuckles at his own joke, leaning down and taking one of my nipples into his mouth, his large hands a warm expanse over my hips as he pulls me hard against him. It’s impossible for me not to grind myself against him.
And tell myself over and over again that this is okay because it’s for the job, even though my conscience isn’t buying it anymore.
Luke flips me over and rests me on the bed as if I weigh nothing, his tall frame looming over me for several long moments, his gaze shifting from one body part to the next.
I’m fairly confident about my body—I work hard enough to maintain it—but being under such intense scrutiny by someone so beautiful, so sculpted, starts to make me feel self-conscious.
“No, don’t,” he warns, his hands gently touching my knees, stopping them from closing completely. “You’re perfect. Almost too perfect.” He pushes his boxer briefs down and climbs onto the bed to fit himself in between my legs, forcing my thighs apart. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even real.”
