Page 34 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
Grinning, Lucas strummed one more chord before muting the strings with his hands. “Wait.” Getting to his feet, he laid the guitar on the couch and went into the bedroom. He returned with a laptop, set it on the little table in front of the window, and opened it up.
While he searched for the song, I started to brush the crumbs off the button-down shirt he’d given me to put on, but then I felt guilty since his floors were so clean. Getting to my feet, I picked up the hem of the shirt so they wouldn’t spill everywhere and went to the kitchen to drop them into the garbage. Returning to the rug, I picked up the plate, threw grape stems away, and put it in the tiny dishwasher, admiring the sparkling counters and clean sink again. I’d never have guessed when I first saw Lucas at the bar that his apartment would be so neat. His tidiness was such a nice surprise, it inspired a new list.
Well, that and his tongue.
5 Awesome Things About Lucas
1) He always kisses me at least once on each cheek when he says hello.
2) He knows about wine, history, cathedrals, music, and love stories. (Bonus points for deadly historical blowjob as well as for family owning a vineyard.)
3) He opens doors for me and always allows me to enter a room first.
4) His apartment is beautiful and immaculate, even the bathroom.
5) He knows how to give me multiple orgasms and doesn’t give a fuck about a wet spot. In fact, he’s proud of them.
“Found it.”
A moment later, I heard the scratchy sound of an old recording and then the opening strains of the song. A huge grin stretched my lips, and I walked around the counter into the living room just as Lucas straightened up. The sight of him, wearing jeans but no shirt, barefoot, his curls messed and lying any which way, made my stomach flip.
“Dance with me.”
He shook his head. “I’m an even worse dancer than singer, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t care. Please?” I held out my hand, and he grimaced but took it, pulling me into his chest and wrapping his other arm around me. In my bare feet, my eyes were level with his chin, which meant I could comfortably rest my head on his shoulder. “You’re so easy,” I teased. “All it takes is ‘please’ to get you to do something.”
“You better be nice or I’m not going to tell you what the lyrics mean,” he warned.
I kissed his scruffy chin. “Sorry. I’ll be nice.”
Closing my eyes, I tipped my head onto his shoulder again and listened as he translated the lyrics for me, and the gist of it was that life looks different when you’re in love. Better. Prettier. Although just like this afternoon, my mind drifted from what he was saying to how he said it. How his voice sometimes cracked when he spoke low and soft. How he held me to his chest so closely I could feel his heartbeat. How he swayed to the song’s old-fashioned rhythm, turning us in a slow circle in front of the windows.
My cheek warmed on his bare skin, and I felt something start to stir within me. It had to be going on three AM, and I was drowsy and satisfied, yet I couldn’t stop myself from kissing his shoulder, his collarbone, his neck.
Lucas stood still as I kissed my way up to his lips, then he took my head in his hands, bringing his mouth to mine. Between us I felt his cock begin to thicken and rise and press against my pelvic bone. My lower body clenched involuntarily.
“Mmmmm, Lucas?” I turned my head and his mouth moved along my jaw and down my neck.
“Yeah?” His breathing had gone ragged.
“I know I’ve already had my star turn and one encore already, and I don’t want to be greedy, but can we do it again?”
Instead of answering, he walked backward and sat on the couch, pulling me down onto his lap. I straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips, and he began unbuttoning my shirt.
“The couch, really?” I couldn’t help but be amazed. We’d closed the drapes and all, but Tucker would never have done it on an expensive couch, and this one looked like a nice antique. “You’re not worried about…getting something on it?”
“Do I seem worried?” He didn’t even pick his head up from my chest, where he was already dragging his tongue over one nipple and twisting the other one between his fingers. Fuck, I loved his mouth and hands on me. His breath on my skin.
“No.”
“There’s your answer.”
I smiled, holding his head to my chest as he nibbled and sucked and bit, circling my hips, rubbing against the erection straining against his jeans. This feels fucking amazing—maybe he’ll let me stay on top.
Yet another thing Tucker did not enjoy, at least never with me.
Lucas brought his lips back to mine, and I gripped the back of the couch, riding him even harder and feeling him push up to meet me. “Let me get up for one second,” he whispered.
