Nobody Does It Better

Chapter Seventeen

Lucas went down the hallway to the guest bedroom and undressed. He sat on the bed in his boxers and the T-shirt June had handed to him, listening to the rain. A shaft of lightning flared across the sky and connected with the earth somewhere. The boom was deafening. So much power, Lucas thought.

The room was stuffy, but he made no move to open a window. The house didn't have air conditioning. Apparently June preferred the river breeze to cool her. A clock hanging on the wall ticked the seconds at him. He caught himself measuring his pulse against it. His heart was pumping fast, gallons of blood gushing through him.

Knowing June was upstairs in her room, sound asleep, created a sense of loneliness in Lucas, a loneliness that constantly nudged at him to fix.

Day and night. Alone. Lonely. Without any emotional human connection. Sure, he could have the company of any beautiful woman he wanted, and he had, but that was all he had ever allowed it to be. Company. Just for the night.

You never have breakfast with her, ever.

For years now, he had existed from one day to the next, wallowing in self pity and abject loneliness, masked in meaningless flings and his good old friend, Scotch. It was a life he had chosen for himself and yet it was no life at all.

It would be unfair to lead June on knowing fully well this would likely lead no where.

But you like her enough to try, an inner voice said.

He shot straight up and sat on the edge of the bed. He got up, walked out of the room, down the hall and took the stairs two at a time.

When he reached the second floor, he stopped suddenly at an open doorway. He took a single, hesitant step into the room before he realized that June was not in bed. She stood by the open window, looking out onto the river. As if sensing his presence, she turned around, looked right at him and smiled.

******

June had known that he would come to her. She had seen the desire in his eyes, had felt it in his kiss.

'I thought you'd probably be asleep,' he said, his gaze moving over her hungrily.

'I'm not sleepy.'

'Me neither.'

They stood there, the width of the bedroom between them and simply stared at each other. Lucas was in his boxers and wore only the T-shirt she had handed to him. He looked delicious. Good enough to eat. All lean, luscious male.

She wondered how she looked to him. Plain and dowdy in her oversized pink sleep shirt that fell just below her butt. Her face cleanly scrubbed, her braids held up in a bun. Her feet encased in warm, fuzzy socks.

'I'm hungry,' he said.

'Do you want a snack...maybe sandwiches?'

Shaking his head, he took several steps towards her. 'I'm not hungry for sandwiches.'

'You're not?' Alive with anticipation, she swallowed nervously.

'I'm hungry for you,' he told her.

He spanned the space that seperated them, and without saying a word, circled her neck with his big hand, lowered his head, and kissed her with an eager passion that matched her own. His other hand splayed open across her lower spine and eased her body into his, against his erection. When she gasped, aroused by the feel of him, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth.

They kissed hungrily, their hands exploring each other. Touching, rubbing, caressing. She helped Lucas remove his T shirt. He threw it onto the floor, then lifted her sleep shirt over her head, and dropped it on top of his discarded T shirt. She shivered when the nighttime chill hit her bare skin, and her nipples peaked. He looked down at her, smiled, and cupped her breasts. His thumbs flicked across each nipple, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her.