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A class act. I looked around to see more appreciation than skepticism. Putting himself out there like this would go a long way with the locals. Everyone loved a guy who could make himself vulnerable, and what was more vulnerable than singing on a stage?
And then, the song began.
Natalie burst out laughing, and I would have, too, but my eyes actually stung with unshed and unwanted tears. Clearly, it was a message. And my heart couldn’t have been more full.
“I got chills,” Lucas sang. “They’re multiplying.” The crowd began to cheer as Natalie and I stared in awe. He was actually. . . really good. “And I’m looooosing control.”
He never took his eyes from me.
Zoe began to sing, and that was when everyone really lost it. She had an amazing voice.
“You're the one that I want,” he sang to me.
I wanted to laugh. And cry.
I wanted him too. No one had ever intrigued me or filled my heart with such joy and pain for a long time, too, as Lucas. But that just told me how deeply I felt for him. The fact that he wanted the same thing. . .
By the end of the song, the entire bar was singing along. As soon as it was over, Lucas handed his microphone to the DJ and made a beeline to me. When he reached me, didn’t the sexy beast of a man actually lift me from my stool, my legs wrapping around his waist for balance, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of me.
As if to make a point.
The song’s message was for me.
He did indeed want me, and I wanted him too. As the place went wild around us, hoots and hollers coupled with whistles, we ended the kiss, and Lucas put me back in my seat.
“Well then,” he said. “That was fun.” Then to Zoe, he added, “Happy to sing with you anytime, Zoe.”
Lucas couldn’t possibly have shocked me more.
Or so I thought. Until he leaned into my ear and whispered, “I love you, Charlee.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
charlee
Lucas tugged me along to the back room, hidden from the front of the shop by a privacy wall. No sooner had he flicked on a lamp next to the couch than Lucas sat and pulled me on top of him.
“Say it again.”
My hands lay on his biceps, the veins in his arms bulging.
“I love you,” I repeated, just as I had said in the bar a second before Lucas told my friends we’d be right back. “I never stopped loving you, Lucas.”
“Fuck.” He began to unbutton his jeans. In response, I wiggled off the couch, tossed off my boots, and did the same. Dropping my own jeans to the floor, I repositioned myself back onto Lucas. He pulled my thong to the side, his thumbs and the material of my underwear both massaging my clit.
“You sexy fucking thing. What a good girl you are,” he said before grabbing my hair and pulling me toward him. “I can’t decide if I want to rip that thong off you, finger fuck you while you look at me, or bury myself inside you immediately.”
I was about to give him my opinion until I remembered Lucas liked having control in the bedroom. And I liked giving it.
So instead, I smiled. “Up to you.”
“Mmmmm.”
That sound deep in his throat meant I’d hit a home run. Pleasing him was such a rush for me.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now come and ride me, baby.”
I didn’t need much more of an invitation. Soaking wet and ready for him, I let him guide himself inside me, full hilt. I’d intended to take it slow, to show him how much I did, indeed, love him, but all my intentions fled the second I looked back down at his face. Holding onto my hips, his dick deep inside me, Lucas looked like a man who was holding back. And I didn’t want him to. Not with me.
