The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(18)

“Well, there are things we need to discuss. He is the reason I’m here, after all.”

“Just think. If not for that, we would have never met. It’s funny sometimes, how fate works,” she says, taking my hand and pulling me out the French doors. Hell, she’s talking about fate. Everything in me is screaming to run away fast and hard.

She leads me to a bench outside surrounded by perfectly sculpted hedges, rose bushes, and other flowers of which I have no idea what they are. It’s pretty, I suppose. Her hand is wrapped so f*cking tight around mine, I’m pretty sure that the blood supply is cut off.

“I can’t tell you how much fun I had tonight, Grayson. I just love being around you. You know how you meet someone and something just clicks and you instantly feel comfortable around that person?”

I listen to her words and an image of CC comes to mind instantly. I smile before I can stop myself. “I know exactly what you’re talking about,” I tell her without thinking.

“I knew it!” she squeals, and then before I can think over what we’ve talked about, her lips are on mine and her tongue is plunging into my mouth. Her taste is wrong. The feel of her in my arms is wrong. I don’t push her away, but I do nothing to deepen the kiss. She pulls away with a satisfied look on her face and I have a bad feeling that this is going to mean trouble.

Shit.





“Have I told you that you sure clean up good, Cooper?” Gray tells me when I open the door.

He’s standing there dressed in jeans and a t-shirt holding a bottle of wine and some flowers, and he’s wearing a grin. It’s been four days since our conversation at the garage. He hasn’t missed calling or texting, and I’m starting to look forward to hearing from him. All of that spells trouble, but I’m ignoring the signs. I’m charging ahead because for the first time in my life, I see something in front of me that I want to keep. I know I can’t. That’s just the way life is, and there’s no way someone like Grayson Lucas, golf star extraordinaire, will want me for anything long term. Still, for as long as this lasts, I’m going to take what’s there and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

“Cooper? What happened to sweet lips?” I ask him, opening the door wider so he can come inside. He shrugs away my question as I close the door behind him. I turn around to walk back towards the kitchen when he wraps his arms around me. He holds me close, the flowers and wine bracing against my back.

“I’ve missed you.”

I realize I’m dealing with a player, and those words are probably just another line designed to get my pants off of me, but the thing is… it’s a very good line. Plus, I really want him to get my pants off.

“Scruffy is a good look for you,” I tell him, moving my hand along the five o’clock shadow on his face. Any look is good on him. I don’t think you can make him look bad—at least, physically.

“Can I have my kiss now?” he asks. Last night during our phone conversation, I told him he could have a kiss if he could remember what I was wearing the night we met. I really didn’t think he could, but he nailed it, all the way down to the sea foam green, lacy silk panties and bra I had been wearing. I reach up to give him a peck on his cheek.

“There.”

“Um… no. That is not the kiss we discussed.”

“It’s not?” I ask as innocently as I can pull it off.

“Definitely not. There was no tongue action in that.”

“I don’t remember tongue action being discussed,” I tell him with a grin, breaking away. I take the wine and flowers from him and lead him into the kitchen.

I have a small house. It was Banger’s and the only true home I’ve ever known. It’s an open concept with the living room and kitchen as one large space. It’s too small for a dining area, so there’s a breakfast bar. It’s two small bedrooms and a bath. I’m sure it is nothing like what Grayson is used to, but I don’t sense him checking it out and finding it lacking, so I relax a little.

“Tongue action was implicitly implied.”

“Say that ten times really fast.”

“Why, Cooper, are you trying to get me to show off how well my tongue works?”

“I think I can remember,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I hope burgers and fries are okay. Honestly, it was a long day at the garage and I was too beat to worry about dinner.”

“Burgers and fries are my favorite,” he says, and though he’s probably lying, I relax that much more.

“Thank you for the flowers and the wine. You didn’t have to,” I tell him, putting them in a vase and running tap water into it.

“I did it with an ulterior motive,” he says, and I jump because he’s right behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me back into him. His face slides against mine, the stubble on his face scratching softly against my neck.

“What would that be?” I ask, my voice breathless.

“You. I want you,” he says, his lips following the pulse point in my neck.

“Gray…” I protest, but even I know it sounds weak.

“God, I’ve been thinking of nothing but you for days,” he groans, his hands moving under my shirt, sliding slowly up my stomach, teasing the warm skin there until he cups my breasts. I want to give in. All week I said I was going to, but now…