Loving Lucas Read online

  “No.”

  “Seen him before?”

  I nod. “In the club, he tried to talk to me.”

  Lucas sighs, then walks toward the older man. I follow, tugging on his shirt.

  “Karlie?” the stranger asks.

  We stand in front of him. That’s when I notice how weather-beaten he is, with too many wrinkles around his eyes for a man his age. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Have we met?”

  “No.” He removes his hat, thumping it against his thigh. “Just wanted to know if it was you.”

  “What kind of shit is that?” Lucas takes a step forward.

  All I can think of is the racetrack. “Do you go to the races?”

  “Every chance I get,” he admits. “My son is a big fan of the lady racers.” He smiles.

  I relax a little. “Do you want my autograph?” Kids chase us all the time, hoping we’ll sign their memory books.

  “If you don’t mind.” He reaches inside his vest pocket and offers me a small tablet and pen. “To Justin.”

  I glance at Lucas. He rubs his chin, a slow smile creeping over his face. “Superstar,” he whispers.

  I pen a kind thought, then sign my name. “Does your son ride?”

  “Yes,” he answers, taking the tablet. “Whenever we find the time.” He scans the page, then tucks the paper back in his pocket. “Thanks for your time.” He puts his hat back on and heads back to his truck.

  Lucas takes my hand again and we watch the guy drive away.

  “Good thing he was getting an autograph for his kid.”

  “Or what?” I ask.

  He dangles his handcuffs in my face. “I’d have missed my chance to use these on you.”

  Chapter 18

  I flick my gaze over the parking lot. There’s no one around. Good. I help Karlie into the truck. She’s smoking in those skintight jeans and halter top. My eyes can’t hide my intentions. I hop in the driver’s seat and start the engine, choosing to drive around the back of the club. I park and turn off the lights. She regards me closely, licking her lips nervously.

  “Should I be afraid of this mood swing?”

  “Maybe,” I say, lifting the center console so there’s more room and no barrier between us. “I already told you I’d never hurt you.”

  “You also told me there are many levels of pleasure, remember?” she asks in a breathy whisper.

  “So I did. Flip around, Karlie.”

  “What?” She stares out the window. “Here? Now?”

  I nod, producing the cuffs again. “On your knees, baby.”

  Her jaw tightens. “No.”

  “Yes.” I try to keep a straight face. She’s purposely challenging me, and I like it. “Knees. Now.”

  She lets out a tiny sigh, then slowly starts to turn around. I catch the end of the bow on her halter top and pull. The skimpy triangle falls off. My feelings are barbed with unyielding lust in its purest form. All I can see is Karlie. I stare at her jean-clad ass bobbing in front of me. Shit. I groan as I arrange myself behind her, grateful the crew cab is so spacious. I reach around and unbutton her jeans. My fingers slide down the front of her pants; she’s not wearing underwear. She’s fucking saturated already—hot for me. Her hips circle and I close my eyes, fighting to stay focused. With some difficulty, Karlie wiggles her jeans past her knees. I smile at her willingness to help fulfill one of my fantasies. By the time we’re done, there won’t be one place left that I haven’t made love to her.

  “Rest your head against the armrest; get comfortable.”

  Thick leather padding covers the door. She glimpses over her shoulder. “I-I…”

  “Don’t think about it—you’ll change your mind.”

  I caress her hips as she shifts forward, getting situated.

  “All right?” I ask. She nods. “Put your hands behind your back for me.”

  “Lucas.”

  “Want me to stop?”

  “No,” she answers. “But what if someone finds us?”

  “They won’t.”

  She does as I ask, and I lock the handcuffs around her wrists. I lean forward, cupping her heavy breasts. I suck in a breath and grit my teeth. Mine. Completely. The ache between my legs has a direct line to my heart. I swear it flip-flops in my chest whenever I touch her. “Karlie—you kill me, baby.”

  She moans softly, and I pinch her nipples, wishing I could flick my tongue across her skin. Instead, I sweep her hair aside and nip her shoulder. She cries out and I do it again. I rock on my heels, eyeing her arched back and ass. That’s where I’m about to be, sliding between her cheeks, filling her—fucking her dizzy. I unzip my pants. Stiff as a fucking rod, I palm her hips as I sink inside her. Encased in wet silk, I take several short strokes, testing her resistance.

  “Oh. God. Lucas.”

  “Don’t rush it, darlin’.”

  “I can’t control it.”

  “Yes you can.” I slam into her, my nails digging into her soft flesh. “Hold it.” I pull out several inches and slap her backside; the sound turns me on. I do it again, then hammer deeper. I circle my hips, withdraw, then fill her again.

  She’s helpless with her hands cuffed behind her back, but somehow, she manages to slam against me. She lets out a frustrated growl. I hold on tighter, powering forward like a defensive tackle. Mercy. That’s all I can ask for, because this girl has sucked the strength out of me.

  “Karlie…” Her muscles contract around my cock and we both lose it, like two teenagers screwing for the first time.

  Once I catch my breath, I take the cuffs off. She waves her hand at me as she turns around, struggling to pull her pants back up. She’s a beautiful, frustrated mess, her long hair going in every direction, her face flushed.

  “Want my help?” I ask, tucking myself back inside my jeans. When I look up, she’s staring at me like I’m crazy.

  “Help?” She finds her top and puts it back on. “You’ve done enough already.”

  I laugh, edging closer. A kiss; that’s what I need, a long, mind-blowing kiss.

  —

  This has to be more than sex, even though I just let my new boyfriend bang me in his truck. What kind of craziness is that? Does he think I’m a freak? Because I sure feel like one. Heat floods my body and I glimpse at him; we’re driving home and he’s way too quiet.

  “Karlie?”

  I keep reminding myself the man sitting next to me is not Connor. There’s nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of. I’m allowed to enjoy sex. I’m supposed to get excited whenever Lucas wants me, even if it’s like a one-night stand. “Yes?”

  “You’re incredible.”

  I sink back into the seat, my legs still quivering, my mind waterlogged. “You did all the work,” I tease.

  “I didn’t even break a sweat,” he boasts.

  “Have you ever…” I stop short. Is it okay to question a man about his past? Not normal questions, but things like whether he’s ever done that before. I don’t know.

  “No.” He takes my hand. “I’ve never made love to a woman in my truck.”

  I take a deep breath, more confident that I’m special. “Why?”

  “Why what?” he asks. “Why haven’t I or why you?”

  “Me.”

  “You’re like a wet fucking dream, baby.”

  “Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?” I can’t believe he just said that.

  “No.” He stares at me. “But I kiss you.”

  I’m on fire again. Hopelessly involved with a man who both intimidates and enchants me at the same time. Suddenly I want to know everything. His past, present, and future dreams. His favorite color. Most cherished memory. His favorite book and movie. What are holidays like at his parents’ house? Where did he meet his wife? What did he think the moment he held his newborn son? I’m afraid to ask. I don’t have the luxury of those kinds of memories or feelings. I’m like an empty canvas, waiting for someone to paint my life for me.

  “What’s happening between us, Lucas?”<
br />
  “Whatever you want.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He turns onto our street, pulls into the driveway, then shuts off the engine. He draws in a long breath and smacks the steering wheel. “You don’t know?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t ask.”

  “Well, darlin’.” He gazes at me, those dark eyes searching mine. “If you can’t figure it out on your own, maybe you need more time to mull it over in that pretty head of yours.”

  He’s taking the easy way out. “I don’t like that answer.”

  “It’s all I have right now, Karlie. You’re not the only one freaking out.”

  He’s edgy, too? “You really don’t know, do you?”

  He sighs. “Quit analyzing everything. Just roll with it for now.” He opens his door and climbs out.

  I don’t wait for him to open mine. We go inside, the air thick with emotions. If he’s as unsure as I am, who in the hell is going to guide this relationship? I can’t. I’m lucky I can keep myself together right now. Lucas kisses the top of my head, then heads upstairs without so much as a good night. Whatever or whoever set him off, thanks for making him so miserable.

  Chapter 19

  “Karlie…”

  I know the deep voice, but I don’t want to wake up. I roll onto my side, pulling the covers over my face. “Go away.”

  Lucas chuckles. “Up.” He yanks the sheet down to my ankles. “Snoopy underwear?”

  “Hey.” I might be sleepy, but no one gets away with making fun of my panties. I cover myself again. “I love the Peanuts.”

  He sits on the edge of the bed. “Guess I owe you an apology for last night.”

  Fortunately, it’s cloudy outside, so when I finally open my eyes all the way, there’s no sunlight to blind me. “Forgiven.”

  “Good.” He pats my thigh. “Breakfast is on the table and our bikes are already in the trailer. We’re going riding.”

  I shoot up and the blanket drops, exposing my breasts. “At the track?”

  His eyes stray to my chest. “Yes.”

  “Is that all you think about, Lucas?”

  “I multitask, darlin’.” He leans over, cupping my breast and kissing me at the same time. “See?”

  “Not impressed.”

  “Want a better demonstration?”

  “No.” I scoot away, jumping just as he dives for me. I squeal and run around the bed, hoping to make it into the bathroom; I need to pee.

  Before I get to the door, he blocks my path, drumming his fingers on the wall. “Wanna wrestle?”

  “Move.”

  “Tickle fight?”

  “Please.”

  “Too late…” His fingers bore between my ribs and I scream.

  “Stop—stop tickling me,” I demand between hiccups. I can’t hold it. “I’m going to pee my pants.”

  Like magic, he stops. I rush into the bathroom, slamming the door. Two minutes later, I risk leaving my refuge, only to find him sitting on the bed, wearing a boyish grin.

  “Wash your hands?” he asks.

  “Gross,” I say. “Of course I did.”

  “Good girl.” He stands. “Oatmeal and fresh fruit.” He drags me to the dining room.

  “Lucas.”

  He dramatically pulls my chair out, gesturing for me to sit—such a gentleman.

  “Lucas,” I say with more gusto.

  “What?”

  “I’m topless.”

  He shrugs, then strips his own T-shirt off, throwing it to me. “Your prerogative, darlin’. But I dare say we’re even now.”

  I giggle so hard my tummy cramps. Eating breakfast topless with my hot boyfriend isn’t unpalatable. In fact, my gaze travels slowly and appreciatively over his sculpted chest. I like the idea more and more. I shrug and sit, waiting for him to bring me some coffee.

  An hour later, I’m dressed in leathers and sitting in his RV. I’ve wanted to do this since the night I met him. We share a passion for motorcycles and racing. Sometimes I think that’s what kept me with Connor for so long. As a little girl, I used to watch BMX and AMA supercross racing on the television with my foster father. I dreamed of owning a Haro bicycle or a Suzuki dirt bike. I begged the Johnsons to buy me one, which only earned me a laugh or two. That Christmas, I received a secondhand Huffy, with rusted-out tire rims. But I pedaled it around the neighborhood like it was the fastest bike on the block.

  Lucas joins me. “Red leathers?”

  “Spidi,” I brag.

  “Beautiful.”

  His renewed optimism makes me happy, but it doesn’t solve last night. I’m still waiting for the right time to ask what happened.

  It’s drizzling when we arrive at the track, but that’s never stopped me from riding. I help Lucas unload our bikes, eyeing his H-D 750. I want to ride it, feel that horsepower between my legs. God. I suck in a breath, hoping he’ll let me. There’s no one else here, so I’m pretty sure I’ll get a chance to improve my lap time.

  A few years ago, someone donated two more pole lights, so now we can race late at night if we want to. Connor is a member of the board of trustees, and I’m not sure how that will play out in the future. Since we parted so publicly, so tumultuously, I’m sure he’ll eventually have me banned from the track. Until then, I plan on riding as much as possible.

  “Ready?” Lucas breaks the silence.

  I gaze at him. He’s geared up, wearing his boots and metal shoe. I admire his lean build, loving the way his one-piece leathers hug his muscles. I whistle and he smiles.

  “Don’t start,” he warns. “We’ll end up in the RV.”

  I walk to the trailer and grab my helmet and metal shoe. After I’m fully outfitted, I start my bike. Then I ride back to where Lucas is waiting.

  “Show me.” He points to the track.

  “What?”

  “Laps.”

  I nod, closing my visor. I circle the track once, checking the conditions. Everything looks good. Then I open up, shifting quickly. Nearing the first corner, I let off the gas, tap the brake, and lean, using my left foot to turn. I slide smoothly into the back straightaway. It feels too damn good. Knowing he’s watching me makes me go faster. By the tenth lap, Lucas is standing by the bleachers, waving his arms.

  I meet him, still straddling my bike. I take my helmet off, shaking my hair out. “Well?” Am I ready for his evaluation? Regardless, I want to graduate from the Powder Puff division. The only way to do that is to listen to someone like Lucas.

  “Twenty-nine-second laps on average, darlin’.”

  I frown, wanting to shave four seconds off that time.

  “Don’t get frustrated,” he says. “There’s a couple of things you can do to improve.”

  I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Form is everything. Imagine that oval as a circle. Make the radius of your turn as big as possible to maintain corner speed. Sharp turns are slow. Let off that throttle sooner. And when you’re coming out of the second turn, open up again, don’t hold back.”

  He’s right; I’ve never consistently maintained control coming out of my turns. I’m not afraid to go fast, but when there are ten bikes jammed into the corners, I have a hard time finding a way to pass. Add my lack of experience and the absence of a willing mentor, and no wonder I’m too slow. “Your turn.”

  He climbs on and fires the engine. I love the way it rumbles like thunder. My two-stroke is no match for his bike. After he takes off, I run to the center of the track, watching closely. The pros hit speeds over eighty-five miles per hour on a track this size; Lucas is no exception. As he enters the first turn, he taps his brake to get the rear end to step out. Seconds later, he’s right back on the throttle. Is he breaking the law of centrifugal force? I shake my head, in awe. I recognize the delicate balance of body position and throttle control. The skill of finding perfect traction on the dirt. And just like he advised me, he makes the oval into a circle.

  By his sixth lap, another bike enters the track f
rom the opposite side of the stands, where the water truck, grater, and wheel roller are parked.

  It’s a newer Harley, black tank with red pinstripes. Lucas laps him twice before the other rider speeds up. After several rounds, they enter the far turn side by side, leaning against each other. Lucas shoots ahead, hugging the inside. Then it hits me. I run to my bike, drop my helmet on the ground, then take off, hoping to catch Lucas. That’s Connor out there.

  He’s purposely staying close to Lucas’s back wheel, looking for a chance to tap him. I accelerate, full throttle. My whole bike wavers when I hit the first corner—I’m going too fast and slam into the berm. Shit. My front end wobbles, then I go into an uncontrollable slide and fly off, hitting the ground, skidding, then rolling…

  —

  Fuck. What’s Karlie doing on the goddamn track? As I hit the straightaway, I watch in terror as she collides with bales of hay and tires. I screech to a stop a few yards away, rip my helmet off, and sprint to her side. She’s sprawled on her back, motionless. My heart pounds as I drop to my knees, feeling for a pulse at the base of her neck. She’s unconscious, and not wearing a helmet. I find what I want: a strong, steady beat. I blow out a breath.

  “Karlie?”

  I gaze over my shoulder; it’s Connor Seville. “Back off, motherfucker,” I hiss. Then I turn my attention back to Karlie. I brush wisps of hair out of her face. “Come on, darlin’, wake up.” I’m afraid to move her. I need to call 911. “Where’s your cell phone?” I ask.

  “In my truck.”

  “Go get it.”

  “Wait!” Karlie’s eyes flutter open. “I’m okay.”

  She’ll never know how afraid I was when she crashed. And she’ll never understand the joy I experienced hearing her voice and seeing those beautiful blue eyes pop open. “Goddamnit, Karlie.” I kiss her forehead. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Nowhere.” She looks up at me, flapping her arms. “Everywhere.” She feigns a smile.

  “Call 911,” I instruct Connor again.

  “No.” She slowly sits, rubbing the back of her head. “See…” She draws her knees into her chest, then wiggles her fingers in my face. “Nothing is broken.”