Friends and Lovers Trilogy 02 - Charmed (18 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Silence is golden? Ha! Try silence is torture.
Murphy was evil, Lulu decided, just plain evil.

They showered in their respective dressing areas, changed their clothes, left the property, and drove thirty minutes without exchanging a solitary
word.
Desperate to break the excruciating tension, she’d opened her mouth twice only to be cut off with a glare that could freeze boiling water.

By the time they cleared the threshold of Murphy’s house she was ready to jump out of her skin. Talk about creepy suspense. Why didn’t he just yell and get it over with? Why was he so angry anyway? Bottom line, she’d diffused the situation. Was that it? Had she stepped on his toes? Was this some kind of macho pride thing?

He punched buttons on his home security system, turned, and leveled her with a look that punched
her
buttons.

Fed up, she tossed her poodle purse on the floor—mainly because there wasn’t a stick of furniture in what he referred to as the great room—and planted fists on hips. “Are you ever going to talk to me again?

“I needed to cool down.”

Yes!
His voice, though strained, was music to her audibly-deprived ears. “So, now that you’re speaking does that mean you’re no longer angry?”

“It means I’ve chilled to a point where I won’t say or do something I’ll regret.”

Like
almost
having sex with me, she thought, her skin prickling with annoyance. It really bugged her that he regretted what she cherished. “I don’t know why you were so miffed to begin with. It’s not like anything was going to happen. Not on a packed casino floor. Not with all the security guards and cameras on site. Besides, you were there.”
Albeit it in a troll suit,
she bit back, as he advanced with narrowed eyes.

“Do you have any idea who you were talking to?”

This was cool?
He looked mad enough to chew nails and spit metal. She swallowed and took a step … two … three, back. “Of course, I do. The guy who sent me the thong.”

“Yes, but do you know
who
he is?’

“Paulie?”

“Falcone. Paulie Falcone.” He backed her into the library while taking off his jacket. “That name mean anything to you?”

“Not really.” Angry with herself for retreating, she dug in and balled her fists at her side as he unsnapped his holster. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“The Falcones are one of the most notorious crime families in Jersey.” He draped his jacket over the leather high-back and placed his gun—God, that thing gave her the willies—on top of the oak credenza. “Paulie Falcone, the eldest nephew of mob boss Vincent Falcone, is second in command. He’s bad news. He plays rough, even with the ladies.”

Her stomach turned. “Oh.”

He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. “Oh?”

“I didn’t know.”

“But you knew he was mafia. And
still
you confronted the man. Not just him but his flippin’ entourage!” He glanced at the heavens as though begging divine patience.

“I was a little pumped at the time.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He blew out a breath and met her gaze. “You scared the hell out of me, Princess. I don’t do scared.”

She thought back on his morning meltdown. Realization dawned, flooding her senses with sunshine and affection. He was bent out of shape because he
cared.
She smiled. She couldn’t help it. Seeing how mad he was, he must care
a lot. Talk about an aphrodisiac.

He scowled. “I’m glad you think this is funny.”

She toed off her sneakers, savored his strong, clenched jaw, his earth-brown eyes sparking with passionate frustration. “I don’t think it’s funny.” Her pulse hammered as lust and longing commanded her actions. “I think you’re sweet.”

“Christ, that’s worse than
nice.
You are the worst judge of character I have ever … “ He blinked as she whipped her sweater over her head and tossed it on the credenza. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m hot.”

“I’ll turn down the heat.”

“That won’t help.” She was on fire for this man. This sexy, strong,
honorable
man. Raw hunger glittered in his eyes even as his features registered panic. Warring with his conscience again, was he? Wanting to tempt the devil in him, she unbuttoned her jeans, tugged down the zipper, and rolled the waistband down over her hips. Sofie had suggested an aggressive seduction later this evening—
no man can say no to a naked and willing lady
—but Lulu was in the mood now. Knowing that Murphy had feelings for her, that he was
attracted
to her, boosted her confidence to dizzying heights. “I haven’t had sex in a really long time.” She kicked off her pants.

“Okay.” He held out a hand, warding her off. “This is adrenaline talking. You’re jacked from that confrontation, from
our
confrontation, and—”

“I’m not jacked, unless that’s the same thing as, you know, horny.” She advanced in nothing but her matching silk pink undies, her smile widening when he swallowed hard. She felt naughty and powerful. Intimidating a man who’d faced down political chaos was a huge rush. “I like you, Murphy.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you well enough.” She knew he’d enlisted in the Marines to make the world a better place. He’d advanced humanitarian efforts. Then
and
now he protected the innocent. With her very own eyes she’d witnessed him transform into a troll to cover for one of her friends. And she’d never, not in a bazillion years, forget the way he’d lit up the lives of those children in the pediatric ward.

She knew that she wanted to connect with all that goodness and strength.

“What’s more,” she said, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor, “you like me.”

His gaze fastened on her bare breasts. “No, I don’t.”

She pressed up against him, palmed the bulge in his jeans. “Liar.”

He groaned when she brushed her thumb back and forth over his erection, his gaze burning with a sensual heat that made her elbows sweat. “You have no idea what you’re playing at here, Princess.”

Pulse tripping, she unfastened his jeans. “Show me.”

It was a blatant invitation, as close as she was going to get to
screw me.
When he gripped her wrists, halting her progress on his zipper, her insecurities flared. If he rejected her, she’d not only feel like a slut, she’d feel like a failure as a woman. Again. She almost crumbled, almost scrambled for a way to joke her way out of this potentially mega-embarrassing moment, but then she remembered a slogan she’d run across this morning when researching the Marines.
Fear is not an option.

In a fierce moment of bravado she laid her cards on the table. “Here’s the deal, Murphy. I want to get kinky with you. I want to feel what I felt this morning, that bone-deep, intense rush of lust. I’ve only ever been with one man, and I … well, it was never like that.”

He banged his head back against the wall.

“I had the most amazing orgasm and—”

“You what?” He tightened his grip on her wrists, slammed her with a look that nearly knocked her on her keister. “That’s why you were trembling. You came.”

Her entire body burned with mortification. Apparently being fearless wasn’t for the faint of heart or skittish relics. “I know. It’s ridiculous. It’s not like we, well, you know had actual intercourse.”

“You’re killing me. You know that, right?”

She stared up at him, her heart in her eyes. “I know you’re trying to be a gentleman, but if you’re attracted to me at all, I wish you’d stop. I want to sample life and lust, Colin. I’m sorry if I mucked this up, but I’m not very good at being the aggressor.”

In one swift move he turned the tables and sandwiched her in between the unyielding wall and his hard body. His mouth curved into a wicked grin. “I am.”

Her brain screeched into slow motion. Her body tingled with anticipation as his fingers trailed over her collarbone, between the valley of her breasts and lower … lower.
Breathe, Lulu, breathe.

His thumb skimmed below the waistband of her panties. His mouth grazed her ear. “Kinky, huh?”

“Here and now would qualify,” she choked out. Any minute her brain and tongue would totally disconnect. The heat of him, the weight and masculine scent of him drove her insane. Or maybe it was the way he was suckling her earlobe. Oh, yeah, she thought as her eyes drifted shut, that was a definite mind-warper. She waited for him to wrench off her panties, braced herself for a fast and furious coupling—that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

But Murphy seemed of a mind to torture her. Maybe he didn’t understand the word kinky. Firstly, she was nearly naked and he was fully clothed. When she tried to rectify the situation, he maneuvered her hands to his shoulders, distracting her with one of those blue-ribbon kisses. She clung to him as her mind spun and her knees weakened.

When he broke away she grappled for a steady breath and a sane thought. Yeah, right. He swept aside her hair, angled her head, and pressed a warm kiss to the nape of her neck followed by a velvety flick of his tongue. She held tight as time slowed to a crawl. Another kiss to the hollow of her throat, another scandalous lick. He nabbed her hand and,
sweet misery,
kissed and nibbled his way from the inside of her wrist to the bend of her elbow. Her heart rate accelerated and she realized he was attacking her pulse points.
How many were there?
She couldn’t remember. He’d disabled her memory two licks ago.

“Lemons,” he rasped. “You’ve been torturing me with your signature scent since day one.” He teased her with an ornery glance, his thumb caressing the soft flesh of her wrist. “Where else do you apply that fragrance, baby?”

Her voice stuck in her throat as she obsessed on the day one part. He’d been attracted to her since the moment they’d met?

He kissed and tongued her cleavage, palmed a breast and ignited internal fireworks. She bit her lower lip, suppressed a throaty,
“Yes!”
Waves of want and wicked lust rolled over her as he squeezed her hardened buds, nipped the undersides of her breasts, her ribs, her tummy. His tongue flicked over her belly button, not a pulse point she thought hazily, but who cares—and then, oh,
God,
her panties were off and he was on his knees with his head in her crotch.

She moaned and squirmed as he sucked, nibbled, and licked her precious parts with mind-boggling skill and creativity. One strong hand kept her from sliding down the wall, while the other explored and teased her wet folds and crevices.

Okay, he definitely knew kinky.

It was her last coherent thought before her brain and body exploded in an earth-shaking climax.

Satisfaction and wonder coursed through Murphy as Lulu screamed her release. Man, she was quick on the trigger. He could’ve feasted for another hour, she’d barely lasted two-minutes. He felt her go limp, hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to his bedroom. He was hard and aching, and out of his freaking mind with need.

He needed to possess Luciana Ross—body and soul.

Keeping in mind that she wanted bone-deep lust and kinky, God help him, he tossed her in the center of his bed and ordered her to stay put. He pinned her with a hungry gaze, devouring her lush, creamy curves as he shucked his clothes.

Though her lips curved into a timid smile as she blatantly admired his arousal, her tone rang with disappointment. “Why did we have to come in here?”

He opened his nightstand drawer, flashed the condom packet before tearing it open.

Something flickered in her eyes. Remorse? Regret? “You don’t have to worry about getting me pregnant.”

Okay. So she was on the pill. Did she think he’d think less of her because she took precautions? Murphy felt the moment slipping away. What the hell? He covered himself with the rubber and rolled onto the bed pulling her under him. “There are other reasons to practice safe sex, hon.” He nuzzled her neck, suckled her earlobe, and worked his hands over her freaking
amazing
body trying to heat things back to boiling.

“I know. But I’ve only ever been with one man, and I was faithful, and so was he,” she managed between throaty gasps of ecstasy. “I think. I just wanted you to know.”

That only-ever-been-with-one-man blew his mind and made him cherish her all the more, but the last thing he wanted to do just now was delve into their sexual history. All right then,
his
history. She didn’t have a history. One man, her husband no less, did not constitute a history in his eyes. It damn near made her a virgin.

He didn’t know which ached more, his heart or his dick. The only certainty was the primitive need to take this woman now. He ravaged her mouth, hi-jacked her senses by fingering her into another shuddering climax. Christ, she was priceless.

Crazy with need—oh, yeah, here’s your bone-deep lust, baby—he spread her legs, groaning as his shaft grazed wet and wild heaven.

She tensed, dug her fingers into his shoulders and coldcocked him with a panicked gaze. “Not like this, Colin, please. This is how Terry—”