Excavated (8 page)

She
choked out a hoarse cry as she rode out the pleasure with her hips, and the
rhythmic contractions of her body around him snapped the last of Philip’s
control.

He
let go. Of everything.

He
heard himself make a loud, hoarse exclamation as he jerked and shook against
her, the sensations pulsing through him.

When
it was over, he could hardly hold himself up. He managed to take care of the
condom before he collapsed, trying to roll to Lucy’s side rather than on top of
her.

She
still hadn’t caught her breath, and her whole body was flushed. She clung to
him needily, and he didn’t even mind.

They
lay together, panting and relaxing in sated languor, for a long time before
they recovered.

Philip
was finally starting to feel more himself when a phone rang.

“That’s
mine.” With a groan, Lucy rolled out of bed and stumbled over to get her phone.

Philip’s
eyes crawled over her small, lush body, noting red marks where he’d gripped or
nibbled her earlier.

Lucy
took the phone to bed and pulled a sheet up over her as she answered it.

Philip
listened shamelessly to the conversation. It was her ex, who was putting up the
fuss about custody of Arthur.

Lucy’s
replies were clipped and cool, and she obviously tried to end the conversation
as soon as possible.

She
talked for about five minutes before she hung up, and it was clear that had
nothing had been accomplished in the conversation.

She
shook her head as she settled back beside him under the covers. “He wants a
piece of the action.”

“He
sounds like an ass.”

Lucy
frowned. “He’s all right sometimes, but—yes—he can sometimes be an ass. All men
are asses sometimes.”

Now
Philip frowned.

“Are
you saying you’re never an ass?” Lucy asked him with arched eyebrows.

He
could hardly claim that and speak the truth so he didn’t even answer. “I’m
surprised, if that’s your philosophy, that you’ve been engaged so many times.”

She
shrugged. “I keep hoping.”

He
felt a sudden spark of something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. “It’s
nice. That you’re still such a romantic—hoping for a destined soul mate.”

She
sucked in an outraged breath, as he knew she would, and tried to pull away from
him. She couldn’t, since it was a very small bed and there was no room for
distance. “I do not have foolish hopes for a perfect man. Just someone who’s a
good match for me. Someone I can trust.”

She
peered at his face, and he must not have hid the twitching of his mouth enough.
She gasped again and hit him on the chest. “You bastard. You were teasing me.”

He
laughed out loud and pulled her into a soft hug. “I somehow knew you would take
being called a romantic as an insult.”

She
relaxed against him, stroking his belly—which he took as a sign that she’d
forgiven him for the teasing.

Then
he heard himself asking, for no good reason, “What do you mean you want to find
a man you can trust?”

She
lifted her head and looked down at him with a puzzled look. “It means exactly
as it sounds.”

“Is
it that hard—to find a man you can trust?”

She
shrugged and flopped back down. After a few minutes, he realized she wasn’t
going to answer.

Finally,
she said, her tone different, “What about you?”

“What
about me?”

“You
don’t seem to be much on trust either. How open are you to trust since you’ve
had two wives that cheated on you?”

He
suddenly felt uncomfortable.

She
poked his side.

“Maybe,”
he admitted. “But at least I gave it a try, which is more than you’ve done.
I…tried. You can hardly blame me for deciding it wasn’t for me after all.”

She
snorted in what sounded like dry amusement.

“What?”
he demanded.

“I
was just thinking it’s ironic. You tease me about being a romantic when it’s
obvious you’re one as well. You have such high dreams of romance that you’ve just
given up on finding it. Maybe I’ve been engaged a ridiculous number of times,
but at least I haven’t given up. I think that must mean that you’re even more
of a romantic than I am.”

His
first instinct was defensive objection, but he bit back his automatic retort,
since he could see her mouth wobbling in amusement.

She
wanted him to react in outrage, and he didn’t want to give her the
satisfaction.

Instead,
he rolled her over onto her back and moved on top of her. His mouth hovered
above hers, and he could see excitement kindle in her eyes.

“Is
this some sort of punishment for teasing you?” she asked, her voice a little
breathless.

“Definitely.”

He
kissed her hard, loving how she responded, how her body softened against his.

Then,
without warning, he felt an odd pang in his chest at the thought of Lucy’s
words earlier. She’d posed it in an offhand way, but she’d been serious about
not really trusting men.

Maybe
for good reason. Her father had walked out on her when she was a kid. One of
her exes was, at the moment, trying to take her dog away.

He
hadn’t treated her right either. Not back then.

Feeling
the need to do something in response to the twisting in his chest, he started
to move down her body—kissing and caressing her slowly, thoroughly, doing
everything he could to please her. Her gasps turned to cries of pleasure, and
she was soon practically writhing in eagerness as he mouthed his way down.

He
finally ended up at her groin, and he moved her thighs apart to make room for
his head. She panted as she stared down at him with smoldering green eyes and
shamelessly tried to push her arousal up toward his mouth.

Just
as carefully and thoroughly, he pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, and
she was practically screaming when he finally brought her to climax. He kept
stroking her, trying to extend it as long as he could.

“Oh
God,” she gasped at last, collapsing back on the little bed, her face even more
flushed and her skin damp with perspiration. “Was that supposed to be
punishment? Because I think you need to rethink your definitions. I’ll tease
you mercilessly if you keep doing that to me as punishment.”

He
couldn’t restrain a huff of amusement. “That wasn’t punishment. I was trying to
be nice.”

She
reached down to stroke his face. “Well, you were very nice.  I don’t think I’ve
ever come so hard in my life.”

The
words thrilled him, as did her replete, exhausted, almost surprised delight in
how he’d pleasured her. His emotional response worried him for a moment, until
it was drowned out in the pulsing of his erection, which had hardened again
over the last few minutes.

She
slid her hand down to wrap her fingers around him, and he heard himself make a
breathless sound in response.

She
drew his head down into a kiss, which only fueled the urgency of his desire.
Then Lucy finally leaned her forehead against his and murmured, “Just so you
know. I can be nice too.”

She
pulled away and turned over so she was lying on her stomach. As he watched, she
lifted her bottom up slightly and smiled at him over her shoulder.

There
was no way he could resist that invitation. He fumbled until he got a new
condom on and then positioned himself behind her. As he slid inside her, his
control was already stretched to the breaking point. He took her from behind
until he felt her coming all around him, which mercifully didn’t take very
long. She cried out with her release but stifled the sound with her face in the
pillow.

Then
he just lost it, his climax rearing up hard and fast.

Afterwards,
he was almost embarrassed. He should have more control than this. He’d always
been a good lover. A skilled lover. A controlled lover. Lucy would think he was
like an adolescent, barely holding on long enough to please her.

“Oh
God,” she gasped, turning over from her position and nestling against him. “Oh,
God, that was good.”

He
grunted, which was the only sound he felt capable of making.

She
pressed a kiss on his chest and continued, “I’ve always enjoyed sex, but it’s
never been this good before.”

He
let out a hoarse breath of relief, gathering her toward him with one arm. He
might be ridiculously uncontrolled with her, but at least she didn’t mind.

“I’m
wiped out,” she added, giving him a slightly odd look.

He
suddenly realized why she was looking at him that way. He'd lived alone for too
long. He realized he hadn’t even told her. “Me too,” he murmured, kissing her
hair. “It’s never been this good before for me either.

***

Lucy woke up just a few
hours later, when Philip was moving around in the bed.

She
huffed in surprise when she felt her body being moved and instinctively pushed
back against whatever was trying to move her.

“Sorry,”
Philip mumbled, adjusting what was now recognizably his body. “You were lying
on my arm.”

“Oh.”
Awake enough to focus now, she lifted her upper body so he could retrieve his
arm. “Sorry. Not much room on this bed.”

“That’s
for sure.” He released a long sigh and stretched beside her. “Here. Why don’t
you move onto this side of me instead to give my right arm a break?”

Moving
felt like it would take an awful lot of energy, but since she’d been sleeping
on his arm before, she figured it was only kind to do as he suggested. So she
climbed over his body and let him wrap his left arm around her so she could
snuggle up next to him.

The
bed was so small that they had to be snuggling or they both had to lie flat and
ramrod straight.

“This
bed was not intended for two,” she said, pressing a little kiss onto his chest,
since it right there in front of her mouth.

“I’m
not sure it’s ever been used for two before.” His voice was warmer and softer
than his normal tone—almost tender. She really liked the sound of it.

“You
mean you never had a little fling with a hot grad student?”

“Hell,
no.”

She
gave him another little kiss on the chest because he deserved it for saying
that. For meaning it.

She
looked up at him when it felt like he was smiling. He was. “What’s that smile
for?” she asked.

“Nothing.
It’s just a nice change to share the bed. Even this small a one.”

She
chuckled, feeling fond and affectionate and rather boneless. “When I was a kid,
we lived in a one bedroom apartment, and my parents gave me and my sister the
bedroom, so they shared a cot about this size in the living room. I have no
idea how they did it for so long.

He
didn’t say anything in response, but he stroked her hair and followed the
length of it down her back. Then he did it again. And again.

She
relaxed into the caress. “Of course, my dad was only halfway living with us
most of the time, so I guess Mom usually had it to herself.”

There
was a pause as he stroked her hair once more before he asked, “How old were you
when he left?”

“Ten.”
She cleared her throat, emotional—as she always was—when she really thought
about her father. “I sometimes think I should have been relieved, since life
really settled down more after he left. But I…” She cleared her throat again.
“I wasn’t.”

“Did
you ever hear anything from him after he left?”

“No.
Nothing. He dropped off the face of the earth, as far as we could tell. When I
was in high school, I did some research and found him. He’d hooked up with
another woman and had an entirely different life. I couldn’t believe—I just
couldn’t believe—we meant so little to him. But I guess we did. If I hadn’t
learned my lesson before, I sure as hell learned it then.”

“What
lesson?” His body had tightened, and he’d lifted his head so he could clearly
see her expression.

She
raised her face to meet his eyes, able to answer him in a way she hadn’t
answered Dana, when she’d asked her the same question just a few days ago.
“Don’t rely on someone like that.”

“Like
what?”

“What
are you talking about?” She frowned at Philip, even though he looked sleepy and
scrumptious with mussed hair and no shirt. “He was a selfish bastard who didn’t
care enough about me to stick around.”

“I
know that. He betrayed your trust—no question. It just sounded like you meant
more than just him.”

She
had meant more than that, but there was no reason to open that particular can
of words. Not with Philip, whom she’d never see again after a few more days. So
she smiled at him and stroked her hand up and down his chest. “So now that
you’ve had my true confessions, time for you to share yours.”