Delicious (Wicked Lovers #3) - Page 16/45

So he was past the anger and knew he’d pissed her off, and accordingly wheeled out an apology. But . . . “In other words, it’s none of your business if I fuck Tyler, but you still think I am and will try not to growl at me about it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s your life, and I have no right to tell you how to live it. I have four days and some change left here. I’d rather spend the time enjoying you than fighting with you.”

“So let’s put all the emotion behind us so we can fuck like rabbits for four days?”

God, why didn’t he just slap her in the face instead of slowly stabbing her in the heart?

“I meant that you’re right. I haven’t been a monk since we first got together, and it’s wrong of me to expect that you have no other life. I don’t know whether you and Tyler have something going. I’m not passing judgment. All I’m saying is that I’d rather spend time with you, whatever we choose to do, than argue.” He sighed, and shot an enigmatic dark stare at her. “You’re a fascinating woman. I want to know you more.”

Good guy or player? That was the problem. She didn’t know Luc deep down. Either he was genuinely apologizing for allowing his misplaced jealousy to get the better of him or he was saying what he thought she wanted to hear, hoping that she’d be motivated to shed her clothes and spread her legs. Either way, he’d said nothing emotional . . . but this was the first time he’d pursued her. Could it lead somewhere?

“What I really wanted to hear was that you believed I didn’t have sex with Tyler today.”

Luc shrugged. “You don’t owe me explanations.”

“I don’t,” she agreed. “But I want to know what you really think.”

It was probably pointless, but she couldn’t stand him thinking she was the kind of woman who slept around.

He paused, seemingly lost in his thoughts, sorting through them. “You’re too dedicated to your future to fuck away the afternoon the day your happiness opens its doors.”

Tears hit her instantly. He got it. He got her! It was a start.

Alyssa bit her lip to hold it in. Damn exhaustion was making her weepy, and the shit had to stop.

She took a deep breath to compose herself. “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry I put extra stress on you.”

“I’m sorry I disappeared this morning. I should have left a note or something, explaining . . .”

What? That she’d been too overwhelmed by their time together and had lost her heart?

“That you were too keyed up?” he guessed.

It was as good an excuse as any. She nodded.

“I understand.” He slanted a concerned frown to her. “Did you get any dinner?”

She sorted through her evening’s events, then shook her head.

“Lunch?”

No, she’d been too busy making sure her appearance tonight was perfect to worry about food. “I skipped it.”

“Breakfast?” He sounded incredulous.

Alyssa winced. She’d been curled up on her bed at Sexy Sirens, crying her eyes out.

“Damn it! You’re not taking care of yourself. Did you sleep at all today?”

Because Lord knew Luc had made certain she didn’t get any sleep last night.

Again, she shook her head.

A moment later, they pulled up in front of her house. He hopped out and rushed around his SUV to get her door.

Now that she’d been still for a bit, weariness crept up on her, and she stumbled out of the vehicle—into his arms. He brought her close, and she allowed herself to feel safety and warmth, pretend that she really mattered to him.

“That’s it.” He sounded fed up. “I know you’re eager to throw me out, but you have to let me in to take care of you.”

If she did that, she’d wind up naked with him again, letting him deep inside her body, deeper inside her heart.

“Luc . . .”

“You’re not talking me out of it. Keys?” He held out his hand.

Alyssa wavered. How nice would it be to let Luc take care of her for a few minutes? She was always in charge of everything—had been since the day she left home. Right now, giving over her responsibility to him sounded like a ridiculously wonderful fantasy.

Fearing she would regret the decision but too tempted to care, she dropped her keys in Luc’s palm.

Chapter Eight

AS soon as Luc closed the keys inside his fist, he bent and swept her into his arms. She clung to his neck, and the masculine scents of pine, musk, and soap hit her system. It was a good thing he held her or her knees would have given way completely.

“Wh-what?” she sputtered. “What are you doing?”

He unlocked the door with one hand, shouldered his way in, and stopped her before the burglar alarm so she could disarm it. After the beeping stopped, he walked past her kitchen and stepped down to the den, depositing her on the downy-soft sofa. He lifted the quilt she usually kept across the back for chilly mornings and draped it over her legs.

“You okay?”

“More tired than I thought . . .” she mumbled. God, she wasn’t even sure she could stay awake long enough to disrobe, even though sleeping in this dress would ruin it.

Groaning, she tried to push to her feet. Luc eased her back down. Lacking the will to resist, she settled back into the cushions with a mutinous expression.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I have to change. Take off my makeup.”

“Not right now, you don’t. Give me five minutes. Just sit here that long. I promise to make it worthwhile.”

She had no idea what he was up to and was too tired to argue. “ ’K.”

As her eyes slid shut, she heard his footsteps retreat. The next thing she knew, Luc was gently shaking her.

“Alyssa?”

“Hmm.” She’d fallen asleep on the couch while he’d . . . what? Watched?

Then the smell of food hit her, and her stomach rumbled in response. She opened her eyes to find eggs and toast and some fruit in yogurt on a plate beside her.

Before she could ask, he pulled the plate into his lap and sent her a stern glance. “You’re going to eat. Furthermore, you’re not going to go a whole day without eating or sleeping again. Now, open up.”

Luc looked as if he meant business. Secretly, she was touched. Was the man trying to make her fall even more in love with him? Even in Tyler’s most solicitous moments, he would never cook for her. He barely cooked for himself. And yes, this was Luc’s profession, but the fact he’d done it after getting little sleep himself and being on his feet all evening melted her.

“I can feed myself.” She reached for the fork.

“I’m sure you’ve been doing it since roughly your first birthday. But I’m at least partially to blame for your exhaustion and hunger. Let me.”

She didn’t agree with his assessment. She could have had someone at the club fix her a salad or could have found a few minutes to close her eyes, if she’d really wanted. She was a big girl. Yet Luc insisted on shouldering the blame.

Someday, he would make some woman seriously happy, and the fact it wouldn’t be her nearly made her cry.

“Alyssa?”

Too tempted and tired to argue, she opened her mouth. Fluffy eggs with cheese and something spicy hit her tongue. Oh, then onions, tomatoes, and mushrooms so perfectly cooked they melted in her mouth. He followed with a buttery piece of toast, then a few spoonfuls of the yogurt and berry mix. Pure heaven.

“Why?” she asked between bites. “You’re tired, too. Guilt?”

He paused, then lowered the fork and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset you and ruined your day. But taking care of you isn’t about guilt.”

Insidious hope seared her. Alyssa opened her mouth to ask questions.

He placed his finger over it. “Shh. Not tonight. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

Luc was right. They weren’t going to solve their problems or figure out what was between them while they were both this close to exhaustion. It wasn’t in her nature to put off until tomorrow what should be done today, but she saw his logic. And wanted to live in this fantasy just a moment longer.

Nodding, she opened her mouth again, and he placed the next bite inside.

Once her plate was empty, he brushed her hair behind her shoulder, anchoring it behind her ear. “Still hungry?”

“What about you?”

“I ate before the dinner service. I’m fine.”

Frustrating man wouldn’t let her worry about him, but insisted on taking care of her. It was a guilty pleasure. Like eating ice cream, which she could never afford if she still wanted to fit into her clothes. But once . . . just this once, it was so damn delicious.

“Did you get enough to eat?” he asked.

Alyssa put her hand to her stomach. “Full.”

He smiled tenderly, and her heart flipped. How easy it had been to fall in love with him . . . How foolish.

“Good.” Luc helped her to her feet. When she wobbled, he looked down at her feet and frowned.

“What?” she asked.

Shaking his head, Luc bent to her and removed her shoes. Ahhh . . . The relief was nearly orgasmic. She hadn’t realized how much her feet hurt. New shoes were the worst, but she’d gotten so tired later in the evening that the pain in her feet had ceased to register.

“That bad, huh?” Luc swore and lifted her against his chest once more.

“I can walk,” she insisted.

He stared at her, and her gaze was snared by those dark, inscrutable eyes. “Yes, but you don’t have to. Now, set the alarm.”

As they passed the keypad, he stopped and allowed her to input the code. Once it was armed, he ensured the door was locked, then made his way up the stairs.

“I’m too heavy for this,” she insisted.

Luc scoffed. “I once spent a summer hauling hundred-pound bags of grain up and down a loading dock, one bag on each shoulder. Carrying you around is a breeze.”

Sweet liar. She smiled and closed her eyes, savoring his closeness and caring. God, this felt so good. But she had no doubt she’d pay for it tomorrow with every last bit of her heart.

LUC shifted, sinking deeper into a sublimely comfortable bed. Something smelled good, like peaches and cinnamon. Hmm. And a warm feminine body rested beside him, lax in a way only complete trust allowed. Experimentally, he moved a hand—and encountered a lush hip under his fingers.

His morning erection jumped from promising to demanding.

He opened his eyes and took in the pale walls, sheer curtains, shadows of late morning. Gorgeous platinum hair and soft, rhythmic breathing.

Alyssa.

Everything inside him tightened with arousal, anxiety, and confusion.

What the hell had happened yesterday? After they’d had mind-blowing sex, he’d crashed, then awakened abruptly once he’d realized Alyssa wasn’t in bed beside him. She’d never picked up his calls to her cell phone, and his anxiety grew. When he’d tracked her down at Bonheur hours later, he’d found her in Tyler’s arms. The switch for his possessive instinct had flipped on in a big way. He’d been nearly berserk with jealousy.

Luc didn’t understand the instinct for several reasons. First, he hadn’t lied when he’d said it seemed unlikely Alyssa had allowed her bouncer to fuck her that afternoon. It had taken Luc a while to reach that conclusion, but he knew it was true. Alyssa was too ambitious to risk Bonheur’s opening for a piece of ass.

That still didn’t ease his aggravation because he doubted their relationship was platonic. Tyler wouldn’t stick around if he wasn’t getting any, so likely, on any other day the bouncer would have had Alyssa naked and spread out for his pleasure.

Tightening his grip on her sleeping form, he tried to push the image away.

What Luc couldn’t figure out was why he cared who Alyssa fucked. Thinking back through all his relationships in the last dozen or so years—most of them ménage—he’d never once felt an urge to grab the girl and keep her all to himself. Now he could hardly tamp down the impulse.

When you’ve got feelings for a woman, jealousy comes with the territory.

Feelings, Deke had suggested. And Luc had only a few days left to figure them out. Yesterday, she’d pulled away. He’d actually felt her putting distance between them. That reality had infused him with a vague panic he didn’t understand. After this week, he’d likely never see Alyssa again. How could he fit her into his life when she didn’t fit into the future he’d envisioned? Nothing about the way she looked or behaved said “mother material,” especially her relationship with her own mom. And if he pursued Intracytoplasmic sperm injection or they went to a sperm bank, getting pregnant in her profession would be the kiss of death. Yes, she also had Bonheur, and she could be pregnant and run a restaurant . . . but she still spent a lot of time at Sexy Sirens. Besides, one look at her and artificial insemination was the last thing that came to mind. He didn’t see any other option except to fuck her out of his system so that when he returned to East Texas, he could focus on Emily and his dreams of fatherhood.