The Wedding Secret

The pupils in Luke’s blue eyes darkened. “So stay with me.”

“You’re joking,” Cecile said, flustered and voicing the first thing that popped into her head. Luke had to be a mind reader. And worse, her libido was now fully wide-awake. And willing. Chemistry and fate made for a deadly, irresistible combination.

“I’m not kidding,” Luke said, his forceful tone sending anticipatory shivers down her spine. He led her to the revolving doors. “I’m just a few blocks away.”

“You’ve been hitting on me all night,” Cecile said, following him out onto the street as if he were the pied piper.

“Yes, I have,” Luke told her. They’d stopped right outside the taxi stand. “I’m not an animal, Cecile. My parents raised a gentleman. I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t want you. I will tell you that I’ll keep my hands off you if that’s what you’d like. You need a place to stay and I have one. So what do you say? I’ll drive you home tomorrow, when both of us are thinking more clearly. If not, I’ll see you to your cab.”

The doorman stood discreetly a few feet away. Luke nodded to him, and the man waded out into the street, blew his whistle and hailed a taxi. Luke handed the man her bag.

The cabbie started loading the suitcase into the trunk, then opened the passenger door and waited for her.

Luke reached out and put his hand on her arm. “It was great meeting you,” he said.

No! Cecile inwardly shouted as her body overrode any misgivings her head might have. Fate had given her another chance, and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

And her only reason would be that she was trying to be a good girl, holding out for a Mr. Right who might never come.

Scarlett O’Hara had it right. Tomorrow was another day.

“You are getting in with me, aren’t you?” Cecile asked. Luke paused and tilted his head. She had him with her next words. “I don’t think I know what directions to give him to your place.”

It took less than five minutes to reach his high-rise building, less than a minute to take the elevator up sixty-eight floors. Anticipation hummed between them, and Cecile tried to concentrate on her surroundings. While the outside was simply a normal rectangular skyscraper with few architectural details, inside, Luke’s living room soared a dramatic two stories. The space was light, bright and modern. Minimalist pieces and modern art dominated the space. The first floor consisted of the living room, a dining area, a kitchen to make any cook jealous, a full hall bath and the second bedroom. Upstairs contained Luke’s loft office and, beyond that, the master bedroom suite. Her apartment was a shoebox compared to this.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. “Wine? Beer? Soda?”

“Water?” Cecile suggested, suddenly extremely nervous and not wanting any more alcohol. Sure, she’d been in this type of situation before, but this time she was with Luke. And that made her nerves feel like eggshells. While she wanted this man, she wanted whatever happened between them to be worth the buildup. She didn’t want crass. Or tawdry. She stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded a phenomenal view of Lake Michigan and the well-lit Navy Pier.

“Here you go,” Luke said a few moments later as he returned and handed her a glass of water. “Are you hungry? I can have some food delivered. Or I make a mean omelet.”

“I’m fine,” Cecile said. She noticed he’d stripped out of the tuxedo jacket and removed the bow tie.

She took a long drink, for her throat had gone dry. Luke was sexy. Very sexy. Too sexy for his own good. What was she doing here? He was like chocolate cake. Sinful. Decadent. Worth the guilt. She’d never been one to be able to resist what was forbidden, especially when fate intervened.

“Do you believe in wedding magic?” Cecile asked.

He frowned slightly. “Define what you mean.”

She tapped the glass with her forefinger. “The feeling that there’s something in the air at weddings. Something that makes people do things they shouldn’t.”

“I know what you’re talking about,” Luke said.

“So was that why you were hitting on me?”

Luke had chosen water, as well, and he sputtered slightly as a sip went astray. “No. I hit on you because you’re a very beautiful, desirable woman. Surely you know that.”

“You didn’t just want to pick me up, have some fun, enjoy a quick roll in the hay?” she pressed.

“I’m not afraid of going home alone at the end of the night,” Luke said. “I wasn’t staking out the hotel lobby.”

“No?” Cecile’s body reacted to his honesty. She’d come willingly to his house, but she’d had to question him to be positive she was about to make the right choice. For some reason, it was important she not be a notch on his belt, important that, had she turned him down, he wouldn’t have just turned elsewhere.

“No,” Luke said. “From the first moment I saw you I wasn’t settling for anything less. Why else would I leave after you did?”

“I have to admit, you’ve been tempting me all night,” she heard herself say. If he was turned on, so was she. Life had a way of putting her in situations like this, making her realize that leopards couldn’t change their spots. And with a man like Luke Shaw, who wanted to change in the first place?

“So what are you going to do?” Luke asked, his voice silky and seductive.

“I haven’t decided,” Cecile said, although in reality she had. She needed release and fulfillment. She was a woman with needs, and hers hadn’t been met in a while. She didn’t want Bob. She desired flesh and blood. She wanted to be driven over the edge and into the abyss. She wanted Luke.

And with that, all her resolutions to say no flew out the window. She’d start over tomorrow.

“Is there anything I can do to help you decide?” Luke asked. He’d moved toward her, almost as close as he’d been during that first slow dance.

She’d been seduced before but never like this. Luke was out of her league. Her body already hummed, and she was damp. “You don’t make anything easy, do you?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“Never,” Luke said. He reached out and ran a finger down her bare arm. She shivered but not from cold. “I get what I want, Cecile. Always have, always will.”

“And what do you want?” Cecile said, her breath lodging in her throat as she waited for his reply.

“I want you,” Luke said, his tone forceful and determined. A thrill shot though her. “And I definitely want this.”

With that, he lowered his mouth and kissed her.

Chapter Five

The man could kiss. Oh, maybe it was because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this, but Cecile didn’t think so. Luke Shaw was simply the master. He pressed her shoulders up against the plate-glass window and plundered her mouth like an experienced sexual pirate.

She heard herself moan as he raked his teeth across her tongue, felt herself shake as his hands gripped her buttocks and drew her lower half forward so that her body molded to his.

He ran his tongue over her lips, teasing and cajoling. His lips lingered, pleasuring her with an endless kiss that robbed her senses. Time stopped as Cecile simply let herself enjoy. Then he slid his lips to the side, over her cheek and over to her right ear. “Follow me,” he said.

At this moment she might let him lead her anywhere, but he led her upstairs into his bedroom. Here again he had floor-to-ceiling windows but this time with a western view. He left the lamps off, undressing her in the muted glow of the city lights coming through the sheers.

He unzipped the purple dress and let the offensive garment pool at her feet. Lowering his lips, he kissed his way over the skin he’d exposed. He suckled her through her bra, and when she cried out with pleasure, he unhooked the purple lace and tossed it away. Then he replaced his mouth and danced his tongue over her sensitive peaks.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her. And unlike other men who’d said that line, with Luke she believed. He raised his hands to remove the pins in her hair and sent the updo tumbling down. The strands cascaded to the tops of her breasts, and he lifted a lock to his lips. “I love this color. So fiery and lovely against your skin.”

And then he kissed her neck before he began to work his way lower. All Cecile could do was let the pleasure wash over her in waves. She reached for him, but Luke brushed her hands away. “Enjoy,” he commanded, and as he stripped away her matching purple underwear and lowered himself to his knees, she simply obeyed his instructions as the bliss began.

She clutched the top of his head for support as pleasure rocked her, and then finally he was standing, kissing her mouth and carrying her to his bed. He threw the coverlet aside and placed her on the soft sheets. His fingers were everywhere, and Cecile groaned as he spread her legs and worked her into frenzy. Then he removed his own clothes, freeing a part of him that strained for attention. He was a big man and perfectly proportionate. He protected himself, leaned over her and slid inside.

“Oh,” Cecile said as her body adjusted to his presence. He fit her well, and she quivered as the first of her releases began. He stroked easily, sending her into multiple valleys and crests, each one exponentially more pleasurable than the rest. He kissed her eyelids, kissed her lips, kissed her breasts. He slid in and out, his body matching her rhythm until he shattered them both in a climax unlike any Cecile had experienced.

She’d never been so satiated. She and Tori had often complained to each other that after lovemaking the woman was often still so wired that she felt like she could go outside and run a marathon. But not this time. Not with Luke.

The man could dance. He could make love. Both superbly. He drew her into his arms, and her body rested, spent and totally fulfilled.