Anything but Love

thrilling. You,” she said with a quick glance, “were thrilling.”

“I can do better. You deserve better.” He rolled into her and smoothed her hair from her face. “I know we’re on shaky ground, new ground, but when you’re ready—”

Rae angled and initiated a kiss—bold, brazen. She was more than ready. She was hot for this man and growing hotter by the second. Last night and this morning he’d exhibited all the qualities she’d initially fallen for. Kind, caring, thoughtful, protective …

Luke Monroe set her soul on fire. Not to mention what he did to her libido.

Their tongues dueled and her heart swelled. Their hands groped and her senses tingled. She tugged at his waistband. She was ready for fast and furious. Hot and wild.

Luke finessed her beneath him, pinned her hands above her head. He gazed into her eyes and swear to God she melted. Mel-ted.

“This time we’re taking it slow.” He nipped her earlobe. “Relax, Reagan. Enjoy.”

The sound of her full name stroked her intimate parts as surely as his hands. Not hon. Not baby. Not even Rae. Her brain glitched. “Okay.”

He smiled against her check. Rained intoxicating kisses across her jaw and down her neck. His hands worked under her tee, skimmed her stomach, her rib cage.

He peeled off her clothes with practiced finesse, seduced her with hot looks and sexy remarks. He worshipped her body—his hands, his mouth, his eyes.

Impossible to relax, but Rae did enjoy. Every kiss. Every lick. Every nip. Every touch.

She groaned as he parted her thighs, gasped when he licked her there. Overwhelmed with sensations, she climaxed in a heartbeat. She was shuddering with the aftereffects when Luke rolled away.

“Where are you going?” she rasped.

“Condom.”

Why did they need protection when she was already pregnant?

Maybe it was habit. She didn’t ask. Could barely think. Luke had tongued her into some sort of euphoric daze.

Then suddenly he was looking down at her, a wicked grin on his sinfully handsome face. His buff body poised for action.

Her lungs seized.

The tip of his shaft grazed and teased.

Desperate for more, Rae gripped Luke’s butt, anxious for him to slide home. The longer he stalled the more she ached, the more she begged. He took his time, damn him, inch by inch and then … “Yes! ”

Luke plunged and rocked.

Rae bucked and soared.

The ride was slow and hard and achingly wonderful. He kissed her and she came, again and again, swept away by a tidal wave of mind-blowing ecstasy.

A second later Luke followed, stunning her with the intensity of his release.

She held silent as he shifted onto his back and pulled her into his arms.

“It’s been a while,” he said as if reading her mind.

“Since when?” she rasped.

He caught her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Since you.”

* * *

Luke had always been fond of Sundays. His free day. His play day. The one day he always took off from the Shack. He’d spent countless Sundays with the Brody brothers—fishing, skiing, bowling—and occasional Sundays with one of his several girlfriends—picnics, festivals, hot air ballooning via his piloting cousin, Nash. Once in a great while he attended church, but not often, and usually only as a favor to his parents or Daisy. They worried about his soul. Not that he was a bad sort, just unfocused. Sure he ran the Sugar Shack, but he was only half owner and his attention to finances was half-hearted. If someone, typically a young woman, was desperate for a job, he’d take her on even if he already had too many employees on the payroll. Dev was constantly harping on Luke for allowing his soft heart to override good business. And Luke was forever telling his big brother to take the stick out of his ass.

Dev was a control freak, a workaholic, and too grounded for his own good. Although he had loosened up since meeting Chloe—a blessing for everyone.

Luke had always been one of those people who acted on instinct. He didn’t worry overly much about the consequences of his actions since his actions were usually rooted in good intentions. He didn’t worry overly much about the future. Didn’t think twice about the fact that he’d never committed to one woman. He was only thirty-two for crissake. His happy-go-lucky lifestyle suited him just fine—up until twenty-four hours ago.

The only thing typical about this Sunday was that Luke planned on joining his family for their traditional Sunday dinner. This morning he’d woken up in bed with the mother of his child. Yeah, boy, that was a first. He’d ached to make love to her, to brand her body with his touch, to seduce her heart.

Another first.

He wasn’t in love with Rae. He’d been in love a hundred times. That rush you get at the onset of an infatuation. This wasn’t like anything he’d felt before. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew he wanted to push on. Sam had accused Luke of not knowing how to commit. Pure and simple, Luke had never had the inclination. Seeing that ultrasound of his unborn child had sparked a proprietorial urge that extended to Rae. He was immensely attracted to her vulnerability, her seeming innocence, her quiet strength, and her rabid love of the baby in her womb. As of this morning, Luke no longer saw her as Rachel Lacey, the mousy teaching assistant, or Reagan Deveraux, the hot socialite with a master’s degree and a freaking fortune. She was someone in between. Someone he wanted to know better. Someone who inspired him to be a better man. Or at least more focused.

After making love, Rae had excused herself to take a shower. Sensitive to her quiet mood, instead of joining her, Luke had exercised restraint. He got it. They’d gone from zero to a hundred overnight. They barely knew each other and he’d proclaimed them “involved.” He knew from the voice mails that had accumulated on his phone that the news was already spreading throughout town. Once they left the sanctity of this room, they’d be viewed as a “couple” in everyone’s eyes. Except Luke and Rae hadn’t discussed specifics. For the first time in his life, Luke was contemplating the dynamics of an exclusive relationship.

His heart hammered when she emerged from the bathroom wearing a cinched robe and a determined expression. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“Me, too.”

“We need to talk.”

“Agreed. Can we do it over breakfast?” he asked. “Or at least coffee? I don’t know about you, but my brain doesn’t fully engage until I’ve downed at least one cup of beanjuice.”

Her mouth curved. “We have one thing in common at least.” She glanced longingly at the carafe on the table as well as the two plates brimming with eggs, bacon, and toast. “Unfortunately, I need to avoid caffeine. I’ll have some of that orange juice though.”

“Got you a glass of milk, too. Two glasses. One whole. One skim. Wasn’t sure.”

“I have to confess, I’m starving.”

“Not surprised, given you haven’t had much beyond broth and water since before yesterday.” He pulled out her chair, waited until she was seated, then took a place across from her. “I ordered pancakes and oatmeal, too. I wasn’t sure what you’d feel like or for that matter what you like. Take your pick.”

“That’s sweet. Thank you.” She blew out a breath, shook her head. “It’s also a reminder of how little we know each other and yet—”

“I declared us involved.” A verbal, public commitment. Spoken from the heart with little to no deep thought.

“What does that mean exactly?” Her brow crinkled in confusion, and though her tone was calm, her vibe