THE RIPENING (Dark Side of the Moon Book 1) (3 page)

              Not that she could remember.

              Perhaps he had a new girlfriend?

              No. Even in his current state, Luther was too polite not to introduce her.

              She hadn't cut her hair, or started wearing makeup, or done anything that might change the way he saw her.

              Not knowing was driving her slightly insane.

              On her fourth sleepless night, Yuna made herself rise from bed in search of a sleep-aid. After rifling through the refrigerator, she instead decided that a nightcap might be a better option. After all, the Glenlivet in her father's cabinet hardly ever saw any use. A small nip couldn't hurt.

              Careful not to disturb Luther, she padded past the closed door to his room to creep into her father's study. Though he'd passed some years ago, she kept the room as clean as if she expected him to come back any day. After she shut the door behind her, Yuna slid into the large desk chair that still smelt of tobacco and cinnamon and pressed her face to the wooden desk, remembering.

              Every day for four hours a day her father had used to shut himself up in this room, making sure the farm was running smoothly and looking into new crop prospects. Though he'd been a man that had believed strongly in the old fashioned, he'd never been bull-headed when it came to innovation. He'd been tough, honest, and most of all, he had loved his family with all that he possessed.

              God, how long had it been since she'd really allowed herself to feel the pain of his loss?

              When the car crash had happened, she'd been too busy trying to get her own life in order and too desperate to save the farm to feel much more than numbness. By the time she'd finally allowed herself to cry, it had been long after the funeral. And here she was, years later, still unable to get rid of his things.

              Almost reverently, she stroked along the length of the mahogany wood beneath her head.

              So many memories...

              “So you can't sleep either?”

              Yuna jumped slightly at an unexpected voice from the corner of the room. When her head jerked up, the first thing her eyes lit upon was her father's bottle of well-aged Glenlivet. Though she'd barely touched it since his death, the bottle was half empty. On the small table beside it stood a brandy glass half full of ice. And standing before the window, in the pale light of the waxing gibbous, was Luther.

              He took her breath away.

              Clad in only a low slung pair of pajama pants, his chest and shoulders were gloriously bared to the moonlight. Where other men might be huge and bulky, Luther carried lean, carved muscle that spoke of his lithe strength. As he drank deeply from his glass, biceps and pectorals flexed mouth-wateringly. Yuna allowed her eyes to skim over his upper half before being drawn inexorably downward. The deep V of his pelvis disappeared beneath the hem of pants situated low on slim hips. Green eyes trekked further southward until she caught herself, tearing her gaze almost painfully away. It was all that she could do not to follow the trail of dusky auburn hairs that sprinkled his chest to where they ended.

              Instead, Yuna forced herself to focus on his face, a face that could have been carved from marble for all its rugged beauty. Deep brown-red hair, mussed from sleep, hung nearly to his shoulders, framing an expression that was all at once present and far away. Whether it was his own thoughts or the drink that had put that expression there, the young woman couldn't say for sure. Swallowing thickly, she managed to speak.

              “Luther....what are you doing up?”

              As if it wasn't obvious.

              “You know, when we were younger, I waited up for you every day. I used to sit on your front porch, bound and determined to be the first person you saw when you got back from practice. Your father had something to say about that though.”

              He seemed to be ignoring her question completely, instead beginning another line of conversation as he took a long draw from his glass. A single drop of whiskey escaped the corner of his mouth to trek leisurely over his chin and Yuna's stomach tightened.

              “Did he?” she replied with forced casualness. “He was usually holed up around that time.” For all she'd known, her father had been content in his office until she came home from school, at which point he would greet her with a huge bear hug and a warning for her and Luther not to eat everything her mother had in the fridge.

              “He brought me in here one day and sat me down. Right there.” He gestured to the handsome period chair across the desk from her in the middle of the office. “Poured me a little one of these, never mind that I was only seventeen.”

              Yuna could just imagine it. Her large, brawny father ushering in the tall and skinny Luther to fix him with an intimidating stare over his work. The image brought a slight smile to her face. “'Luther', he told me, 'I know my little girl is real fond of you. But if you ever hurt her, I'll blow your brains out.'” The sizable man took another long swig, a smile touching his mouth gently. “You know with that gigantic gun in the living room, I believed him, absolutely.”

              The story, along with Luther's long unseen smile, made the young woman grin. While Hal Thompson had always been on his best behavior in front of his daughter, she'd heard stories from her mother about his chasing young men off their farm in an attempt to protect Yuna's chastity. Standing, she came around the desk to lean against it, crossing slender arms comfortably over her chest. “You know he didn't mean it. Daddy knew that we were just friends.”

              “Mm.” Luther finally turned from the window to fix her with his intense, icy blue gaze. “He was a great father, Hal. He'd have protected you from anything.”

              Yuna laughed softly in an attempt to break the seriousness of the moment. “Well, I hardly needed protecting from you.”

              At her words, an odd light appeared in her companion's eyes before he drained the last of his drink. “Didn't you?”

              The clear depth of Luther's gaze was fixed upon her as he spoke. Butterflies erupted in the young woman's stomach and she swallowed thickly as she allowed herself to indulge in his attentions. He was clearly quite drunk, but the way that he was looking at her was almost worth it. It was an expression she more than recognized, as it often graced her own face in the dark when he couldn't see, an expression that stemmed from a deep-seated want that threatened trouble - or divine succor.

              Clearing her throat in sudden doubt, Yuna took a step back - smack into the desk behind her. Before she could correct herself, Luther had crossed the room with ungodly speed to stand a mere hairsbreadth away from her, so she could feel the heat of him.

              Almost immediately her face flushed. “Luther...” she tried, looking determinedly at the floor. “You know I'm not afraid of you.”

              “Then why don't you ever look at me?” A soft sound of surprise escaped the young woman as her companion tilted her head upward until she met his stare.

              And what an intense stare it was. It was as if Luther was looking beyond any exterior facades she might have put up and into the core of her- a core that currently raged with a dangerous mixture of intense desire and decidedly raw emotions. “I do look at you.” When she spoke, an unsteady voice betrayed her nervousness. “You know me better than that.”             

              “But what do you really see?” he demanded lowly, his tone so sharp that she trembled. “I swear, every time you shy away from my touch or won't meet my eyes, it drives me mad. If you're not afraid of me, then what is it?”

              His firm grip on her chin prevented any escape she might have contemplated this time. As Yuna continued to stare into eyes that could very well undo her, her heart rate increased until she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. The spacious, moon-lit study was suddenly much too small, and her thin cotton nightgown more revealing than the most wispy of lingerie.

              “I'm going to kiss you now, Yuna. If you don't want it, you'd damn well better stop me.”

              She could have denied him, could have concocted some story or excuse, but Yuna found that at that moment, it was beyond her to hide from him any longer.

              His lips were firmer than she'd imagined. When they touched hers, they ignited a slow, steady burn within her. The subtle way they moved against hers demanded she respond in kind. Almost without thinking, she opened her mouth, and gasped as his dexterous tongue delved immediately inside. He tasted of whiskey, soap and moonlight - clear, musky and undeniably male. She didn't even realize her hands were curling into his shoulders until her fingers were buried in warm flesh.

              Effortlessly, he lifted her from the floor to sit on the desk as his mouth continued to plunder hers.

              Yuna had never kissed like this. It was a kiss that threatened to give and to take everything she had with each sip that he took from her. It was a kiss that might never end. With a soft moan, she clung to him, nibbling and biting at the mouth that had haunted her dreams as she pressed herself against the firm lines of his body. Upon contact, her nipples hardened immediately through the diaphanous material of her nightgown and the haven at the crux of her legs began to warm at an alarming rate.

              “Yuna...” Luther was muttering against her mouth, for her ears only, “My sweet, sweet Yuna. Mine.” The possessiveness in his voice made her ache for it to be true.

              When he pulled her closer she could feel the effect she was having on him. If there had been any doubt in her mind that she was desirable to him, it was immediately assuaged.  He was hard-pulsing so vividly that she could feel his heartbeat against her lower abdomen.

              Part of her was convinced that she was dreaming.

              She'd only ever kissed Luther in her dreams, and if this was indeed some slumbering fantasy, then she'd rather die than wake up.

              As his arms encircled her waist, she arched her body against him, refusing to allow a scant millimeter of space between them. This was what she had wanted for so long she couldn't remember not wanting it.

              “Yuna.” When he stopped kissing her for long enough to speak against her mouth she exhaled slowly, hoping against hope that he hadn't suddenly come to his senses. “There are things we should talk about... things that I need to tell you.”

              Though a slight prickling of awareness broke through the haze of arousal at his words, it wasn't enough for complete recovery. Biting her lip, she gazed up at him, wondering what on earth she should say, despite the fact that this moment had played hundreds of times in her mind. All she knew was that she was being presented with an opportunity that might not be so ripe in the wake of a half an hour of civilized conversation. After a few moments of indecision, she said the first coherent thing that came to mind.

              “Later.” Her words were dark-husky. The words of a seductress. “After.”

              His passion-laden groan was more than enough to tell her that she had chosen well. “Are you sure?”

              Biting back laughter at the absurdity of the question, she merely molded her mouth to his again, shuddering at the slide of his tongue against her lips.

              It was all the answer Luther needed.

              Mouth still connected to hers, he lifted her from the desk and moved with a tiger's grace from the office and down the hall towards her bedroom. By the time he dropped her onto the bed, his lips were already trekking down her neck, eagerly seeking new flesh to mark.

              The young woman inhaled sharply as he found and nipped at sensitive skin, her hands tunneling into his hair to hold him against her. His hands, in turn, were everywhere, smoothing down over her shoulders to span her waist, sliding over her thighs and breasts to tease where she ached the most.

              As much as he touched her, it still wasn't enough.

              Dragging his mouth back to hers, she arched her hips against him, eager to feel the heat of his rising erection against her through the thin barrier of her cotton panties. When he cupped her breasts, she moaned lowly. His large hands were amply large to hold the fullness of her bosom and still explore their soft, tender undersides and aching peaks.

              She wanted to beg him to get rid of the layers between them, but she couldn't form the words. He was going achingly slow, circling her nipples with his fingers, plucking at them until she thought she’d explode. Finally, he peeled down the front of her nightgown to expose the pale globes of flesh.

              For a moment- only a moment- she was intensely self-conscious. Though she'd seen Luther in various states of undress during high school and college sporting events, she'd always been slightly more careful with how much of herself she'd exposed. A thigh here, a bare arm there- never much more. She had only these few seconds to be apprehensive, however, before the heat of his mouth closed around the tip of one breast. She shuddered violently at the delicious sensation that assaulted her.

              Yuna squirmed as his tongue and teeth played havoc with her sensitive flesh, unable to stifle the moans that spilled from her mouth as he switched from one breast to the other. She knew she must be pulling his hair, must be hurting him, but if the low, almost animal-like sounds he made against her skin were any indication, he had no objections.

              Deftly, his hands worked her nightgown over her hips and down her legs to pool on the floor before he found and cupped the heat of her, drawing his hand tight against her. Yuna's head fell back against the pillows as she bit back a cry of pure delectation. “Ahh...my Yuna...” Luther was growling against her throat in a way that was impossibly stimulating. “You smell divine.”