“I’m clean.”
“Come here.” She reached out and grabbed Luke’s arm, yanked him down on the bed. She pushed him onto his back. “I’ll have to give you a sampling of something to look forward to for when you get back.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” She kissed her way down his magnificent torso—every plane, every ridge. She teased him with feather-light brushes of her lips and an occasional hot flick of her tongue. She wondered if the ritual was working magic on him the way it was on her. The more she savored and dominated the greater her desire to be taken.
He groaned when she took his hard shaft in her hand, tensed as she stroked, gasped when she took him in her mouth. She didn’t have a lot of experience, but that didn’t mean she was inexperienced. She knew what to do and by Luke’s reactions she knew she was doing it right. The crazier she made him, the greater her excitement.
Then he shifted, and in a heartbeat, he had her on her back. “Keep that up,” he said, “and we’ll be done too soon. I need to be inside you, Reagan.”
She parted her legs and crooked what she hoped was a teasing smile. “Who’s stopping you?”
The tip of his shaft grazed her slick folds as he gazed into her eyes. “I think I need to spend the night.”
The man was mesmerizing, but she somehow found her voice. “Have some other things to share, samplings to hold me over until you get back?”
“Got a dozen or so tricks in my repertoire. You?”
“Not so many. But I could make some up.”
He arched one brow. “I’m definitely spending the night.”
And with that he plunged deep—the first stroke of heaven.
TWENTY-TWO
“Daddy, I’m f-f-freezing!”
Sam’s eyes flew open. Not that he saw too much. It wasn’t pitch-black in his bedroom, but it was pretty damn dark.
He instantly knew three things. His daughter was standing beside his bed, the sun was on the verge of rising, and, holy hell, it was cold.
“Da-deeee!”
“Hold on, honey.” He grabbed his Blackberry from the nightstand. Six fifty a.m. Eleven degrees. Outside anyway. Inside? Not that cold, but fricking cold. “Must be a problem with the heater, Mina. Let Daddy check.”
“But—”
“Go wake Ben. We’ll get a head start getting ready for school. I’ll make pancakes.”
She hugged her favorite teddy bear tight to her chest and frowned. “Don’t wanna go to school.”
“Mina—”
“Too cold.”
“Okay.” Sam had already thrown off the covers. He slept in boxers and a tee. He used to sleep in the buff, but that didn’t seem right now. Not when the kids could walk in unannounced at any hour. The privacy talk he’d given them had faded from their memories, since he didn’t have the heart to enforce it. He squinted down at his daughter. “Why are you wearing a boa?”
“The feathers keep me warm—like a bird.”
“And the sock monkey sock cap?”
“Wool keeps me warm—like a sheep.”
“Ah.” He plucked her off the floor—teddy bear and all—and onto his lap. “How about I hug you warm—like a daddy.” He squeezed his daughter tight, his heart bouncing when she giggled.
“Can I sleep with you Daddy?”
“I need to check the furnace, sweetie. But go ahead and crawl in.” He lifted the covers. “I warmed it up for you.”
“Yaaaaay!”
“Dad.”
Sam flicked on his bedside light while pulling on sweats and a hoodie. He glanced toward the skinny silhouette hovering on his threshold. “Yes, son?”
“I think the furnace is on the fritz.”
“I think you’re right. Want to help me check it out?”
Ben shrugged. “Sure.”
Sam didn’t miss the reluctance in Ben’s tone, but he didn’t take offense either. “Be right back,” he said to Mina then guided his son down the hall and the steps, flicking light switches along the way. Ben followed in sullen silence. Ben wasn’t intrigued with mechanics or carpentry. Instead of building stuff or fixing stuff, he liked to make stuff up. He was more of an intellectual, a dreamer. He preferred brain-buster electronic games as opposed to outdoor sports. A bit of an artistic nerd, Ben spent his spare time reading fantasy books or doodling anime characters in one of his many sketchbooks. Sam didn’t mind, but he knew Ben took some heat at school from some of the other boys. Going on nine, he was short for his age and on the puny side. And Ben was quiet. Painfully quiet. Unlike his chatty, effervescent sister.
For over a year now, Sam had been pushing Ben to try new things. Even if he didn’t like tinkering with engines, it would help to know how they worked. No interest in playing football? Fine. But if he understood the concept and rules at least he could offer an educated opinion when cornered by his sports-minded classmates.
As they hit the first floor and headed toward the basement, Sam reflected on an incident a few months back. He’d been stoked when his son had contributed several ideas for a jungle gym Sam had started building for a local playground. But when Sam had invited his son to help with the actual construction, Ben had looked at a hammer like it was an object from Mars. Still, Sam felt compelled to teach Ben a handful of basic survival skills. Every man should know how to change a flat tire or how to swap out a fuse. Or in this case, how to reignite an extinguished pilot light, which is what Sam assumed was the problem with the fritzed furnace—and it was.
“Luckily,” he said to Ben, “this should be a quick fix. See here? We lost the pilot light. Must’ve been a draft. First thing we’re going to do is turn this gas valve to off. See?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now we wait three or so minutes then switch the valve to pilot setting. See here? Three positions. On, off, and pilot setting.”
Hands thrust in his hoodie pockets, Ben nodded.
“Next step. Hold a lighted match to the pilot opening while pushing the reset button on the pilot control panel.” Sam pointed. “This button here. Hold that button in until the pilot flame burns real bright, then set the valve to the on position.” He glanced over his shoulder, swallowing a sigh because of the bored look in Ben’s eyes. “If you ever forget,” Sam said, “there’s a list of directions right here. Most manufacturers provide an instruction sheet.”
Ben leaned forward and squinted at the posted directions. “Has it been three minutes?”
Sam smiled a little, moved by his son’s feigned interest. He then went through every step just as he’d described.
“It’s not working,” Ben said after Sam’s third attempt.
“No, it’s not. Valve must be clogged.” Sam didn’t bother explaining this part. Ben was shivering and Sam was suddenly anxious to check on Mina. He nabbed a roll of wire from his workstation and got down to business. Unfortunately, nothing he tried worked. Which meant they had a faulty thermocouple or worse.
“Now what?” Ben asked as he pulled his hood up over his ears.
Sam rose and guided the boy upstairs. “Now we dig out the space heater and call a professional.”
“Want me to start breakfast while you do that stuff so we’re not late for school?”
“I promised Mina pancakes.”
“I’ll get out the Bisquick. Can we add blueberries?”
Sam’s heart ached as he squeezed his sensitive son’s shoulder. A boy who preferred libraries and kitchens to garages and work sheds. “Sure.”