The Night She Got Lucky

  Ginger knew what he wanted. She stood completely still, the candlelight on her skin, her mind in a sex stupor, her body parts humming. She displayed herself for him as his eyes consumed her from her toes to her shoulders. His smile began to soften as his eyes grew pensive. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head.

  “Genevieve,” he whispered. “You are exquisite.”

  She sucked in a quick breath.

  Lucio’s dark eyes returned to her face. “You are beautiful, mi amor. You are a queen. You are what every man dreams of.” Lucio lowered his chin, and in the light his eyes danced. He looked like a devilish little boy.

  “Come.” He patted the edge of the tub. “Come in and relax. Feel the warm water against your skin.”

  As Ginger approached the tub, Lucio stood, holding her elbow as she climbed in. He steadied her as she lowered herself into the bubbles, the hot water sending an immediate wave of deep relief through her muscles.

  “There you go,” he said, making sure she was safely situated, her back against the curved wall of the deep tub. Lucio bent down and pulled her hair up to the back of her head, gave it a twist, and secured it in place with a clip he must have found in the drawer. Ginger had to laugh. This man didn’t miss a thing! Next, he placed a decadent, wet kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, it left her stretching out her neck for more.

  “I have something for you, guapa, ” Lucio said, stepping back. “It is not perfect, but it is all for you.”

  With that, he crossed his arms in front of his body and whipped his shirt over his head. He let it fall from his left hand, flicking it atop Ginger’s pile of discarded clothing.

  How wrong he was, Ginger thought. If that wasn’t perfection, nothing on God’s earth could qualify as such. Ginger blinked, peering through a thin veil of steam from the bathwater, enjoying a slow visual tour of this beautiful man’s body. Her hand unconsciously reached under the bubbles so she could touch herself. She’d seen him naked only once before, and most of that was the view of him as he ran into the dining room, still wearing his shoes and socks, clutching his pants and shirt close.

  But now, there was no emergency. There was no reason to stop or hide or rush to get dressed before some door flew open somewhere. It was just the two of them. All alone. Two grown-ups with a very adult game under way. And he was unzipping his jeans, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he pulled them down, a pair of clingy boxer briefs going along for the ride. Lucio stepped out of the pants and used a toe to toss them onto the pile.

  Ginger saw smooth olive skin. Dark chest hair that disappeared into a fine line slicing down the center of his torso. Maleness everywhere. Muscles that were long and defined in most places, with hard swells on his upper arms, chest, thighs, calves. And … there.

  Oh.

  Heaven.

  Help me.

  Ginger’s eyes popped wide. Her head fell back against the tub so hard it hurt. She stared. Blinked again. She’d never seen anything like it. Unabashedly, her fingers tweaked her own nipples.

  Lucio chuckled. “I am not … ah, the word … circumcised. I am exactly as God made me.”

  Ginger nearly choked. “Remind me to send him a thank-you note,” she said.

  Lucio laughed. “So it is all right with you, yes? Some women have worried it was too large.” He shrugged, as if apologizing.

  “We’re good,” she said, still staring.

  Just as God made me. In Ginger’s mind she saw how it must have been, Larry and Lucio in heaven before they were born, waiting in the same line, ready to get God’s blessings before they began their earthly stay. Lucio received the Super Deluxe All-Inclusive Adventure Penthouse Package.

  Larry got the junior suite.

  Lucio’s grin widened. “So, I will do, yes?”

  Ginger nodded, and though she was soaking in a tub of water and her pussy was dripping, her mouth had gone completely dry.

  Lucio tilted his head, looking quite serious. “Whatever you like about me, know that its only purpose is to bring you pleasure. I am for your pleasure.”

  Ginger tried to smile, but something profoundly sad had just occurred to her. Most men looked self-conscious standing naked in the middle of a room. Larry most certainly had. It was probably because he was always conscious of himself—to the exclusion of everyone else. Including his wife, the woman he claimed to love.

  Not Lucio. He was as elegant and comfortable in his bare skin as he’d been in that stylish suit he’d worn at Josie and Rick’s wedding. Maybe that was because his focus was outside himself. His focus was on her. He’d just said that whatever she liked about his body was for her.

  The timing couldn’t have been worse, but Ginger was unable to stop the wave of emotion that hit her. She had been so lonely for so long. Lucio’s sweet spirit—the way he created this sensual setting and offered up his body as a gift—it was too much for her.

  A sob escaped from her mouth. She turned away from him.

  He was in the water in seconds, suds and waves splashing everywhere. He inserted himself between her and the wall of the tub, sliding his legs beneath hers. His arms went around her, and his hot whisper melted into her ear.

  “Ah, Genevieve,” he said. “You have much to tell me. I want to hear it all.”

  She sniffed, embarrassed.

  “Take all the time you need, mi amor.”

  “I wasted a lot of my life on Larry,” she whispered.

  “Nothing is wasted if you find the lesson in it.”

  “I’ve had so many lessons lately I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Whatever you need to say will come to you when it is supposed to, and you can share it with me if you like.” He nuzzled his rough cheek against her neck. “Everything comes when it is supposed to.”

  “Like you did,” she said.

  “Me?”

  “You came to me right on schedule.”

  “Hmm.” Lucio’s chest vibrated against her bare back. “How do you mean?”

  Ginger turned on his lap, so that the side of her body rested against his torso. She wrapped an arm around his neck and turned so that she faced him. Water dripped from her arm to his shoulder, and rivulets ran down his chest. Wiping the tears from her face seemed silly.

  “Do you remember the lady who officiated at Rick and Josie’s wedding? Mrs. Needleman?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Lucio said, grinning. “How do you think I knew which guest room was yours? Or that you’d be chatting alone with her that evening? Or that you were unattached? Did you think I was psychic?”

  Ginger’s mouth fell open. She scooted around the rest of the way, spreading her legs so that she straddled Lucio’s lap. The feel of his erection startled her, and her train of thought was momentarily derailed. “Uh … what was I saying?”

  Lucio laughed, spreading his fingers across her lower back, pressing her even closer. “You were talking about the strange old lady with the intense eyes.”

  “Yes! You noticed that, too?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well,” Ginger continued, “she told me about you, just seconds before we met on the walkway and I passed out.”

  Lucio tilted his head quizzically.

  “She told me there was a man waiting for me. She told me I could still get lucky if I listened to my heart and not my fear.”

  One of his eyebrows popped up high on his forehead.

  “I walked out, and there you were!” Ginger shook her head, laughing. “And your exact words were, ‘I have been waiting for you.’ And your nickname is ‘Lucky’!”

  “The Host!” Lucio let out a surprised laugh.

  “I’ve wanted to ask you. What does it mean when you say ‘the Host’? You say it a lot.”

  He shrugged, taking a wet hand and stroking her bare shoulder. “It is a Spanish curse, a very foul way of taking God’s name in vain. It’s a bad habit for a Catholic boy to have.”

  Ginger touched his cheek, then smoothed his dark hair away from his face. “Are
you a good Catholic boy?”

  He pursed his delicious lips. “I am no longer a boy, and I was never a very good Catholic.”

  “And do you have any other bad habits I should know about?”

  “Not one.”

  They both laughed, and the sound echoed around the marble bathroom.

  “Listen, Genevieve,” Lucio said, the seriousness in his voice changing the mood instantly. “I want to know about you. I want to spend time learning who you are and where you have been and all the things you’ve been doing in the years before I found you.”

  Ginger smiled. Lucio’s English sounded stilted sometimes, which she found charming. “I feel the same about you.”

  “But…” Lucio suddenly seemed nervous. He raked a hand through his wet hair, water splashing on both of them. “It is important that you know I am not skilled at this type of thing. I have never been the kind of man who spends a great deal of time with one woman, in one place. That is what I meant when I told you that I am no good for you.”

  Ginger wasn’t exactly shocked by this confession. The life he’d described at the dinner table didn’t sound like it lent itself to long-term commitments of any kind. What bothered her was that even as they sat naked together in a Jacuzzi, Lucio felt the need to issue another warning.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, her voice soft.

  “I say this because I want you to know my intentions—they are good.” Lucio’s eyes filled with worry. “I have hurt many women over the years, but I do not want to hurt you, bonita.”

  Ginger shrugged. “Then don’t.”

  Lucio chuckled in surprise.

  “Just don’t hurt me. It’s that simple,” she said. Ginger brushed her fingers along the rough stubble on Lucio’s chin, studying those dark and liquid eyes. She was aware that, at that moment, her heart was in a shouting match with her fear, and she needed to decide which one she’d listen to. This was her chance to do what Mrs. Needleman had advised. She took a big breath.

  “Lucio, I don’t think it’s important how we got here. We’re here now. So let’s concentrate on doing everything right this time around. Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Anything is possible, Genevieve.”

  “Good. Now, there’s one little problem you should know about.”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t think I’d survive another betrayal.” The matter-of-fact way the words came out of her mouth surprised Ginger. But why not tell him the truth? The truth was from her heart, too. “You were right when you said that I’ve never known a man’s love. I haven’t, Lucio. I was married seventeen years and never managed to feel loved. That’s quite a trick.”

  Lucio’s dark brows knit together.

  “And I want that before I get old and die,” she whispered. Ginger lowered her gaze and let her forehead rest against his, aware that she wasn’t strong enough to look him in the eye as she finished her thought. “I desperately need to be loved for who I am and to love back with the same certainty. Before it’s too late. I really think this is my last chance. If it doesn’t happen now, I’ll be too scared to try again.”

  Lucio’s hug was everything she needed—rock-solid strength and tender care, all inside the shelter of his arms. He pulled her naked flesh close to his and simply hung on to her. The water stilled around them. Their breathing synchronized. She gripped his waist with her thighs and held on tight.

  “I will make a promise to you, Genevieve,” he said, his words delivered carefully, the embrace continuing. “I will stay put for as long as possible so that I can get to know you. I will tell you well in advance if I need to leave. I will be truthful with you, and I will be faithful. I will give you the best of what I am.”

  She nodded softly.

  “I have never made such a promise to anyone. Ever.”

  “I understand.”

  “I have never wanted to.”

  Ginger slowly separated from him, straightening as she pulled away. “Thank you, Lucio,” she whispered.

  He chuckled softly, running a finger down the middle of her breasts, then teasing a nipple as it peeked out from the bubbles. “There is nothing to thank me for, love.” He smiled. “Yet.”

  CHAPTER 9

  They hadn’t bothered to dry off. What would it matter? By the time Lucio was done rolling around with Genevieve in that giant bed of hers, they’d both be bathed in sweat, the sheets soaked, calling out to God. A few drops of bathwater would be meaningless.

  So Lucio had carried Ginger directly from the tub to the mattress, his hands gripping her warm flesh, his mouth all over hers. And now, the feel of how she writhed beneath him—all of the wet, hot skin slipping and sliding against his own—it was maddening! She was driving him insane. His cock hadn’t been this hard since he’d been a bellaco teenager—crazed with horniness. Something about Ginger made him feel as though he were touching, tasting, and seeing a woman for the first time.

  Perhaps, in a way, he was. He’d just made a promise to her, after all. He’d promised he would stay put and spend time with her. Maybe knowing he had that luxury allowed him to savor every sensation in a way he never had before, pay attention to every small detail of the woman in his arms.

  The odd thing was this: He hadn’t intended to make that promise to her. Even as the words escaped his lips, they astounded him. Those words were fully formed, born of thoughts from the deepest part of his heart, thoughts that had been stewing for a long time. But how had the seeds been planted? When? And by whom? Could it have been the handiwork of his own guilty conscience? The result of his old-fashioned father’s years of reprimands? Was it a byproduct of Sylvie’s untimely death? Were the words linked to his realization that he’d missed his chance to have a son of his own?

  Lucio was nearly forty. He’d lived a charmed life. He’d been born in a time when it was possible for one man to see most of the planet, and, through the lens of his camera, to share it with all people for all of history. He’d become an expert at exploring the world, yet he was an amateur when it came to exploring his own heart.

  Lucio looked down at the woman beneath him, trapped between his body and the damp sheets. “You are beautiful,” he said, his hands buried in the tumble of her auburn hair. “I feel drunk on your beauty.”

  Genevieve’s hazel eyes smiled up at him. Her countenance was one of complete openness, trust. It was the look of a woman who believed she would be well taken care of. Lucio closed his eyes for a moment, silently praying that his good intentions would make him man enough for the job. He did not wish to let her down.

  Suddenly, a crackle of energy blasted through him, and his eyes flew open with surprise. By now, he’d grown accustomed to the electrical buzz he felt in Genevieve’s presence, but this particular sensation was far stronger than any he’d felt before. It was stronger than when he’d laid eyes on her on the stone walkway. Stronger than the first time he’d kissed her or the first time he’d come to her home and attempted to ravage her on the cool tile floor.

  “Did you feel that?” Ginger whispered, her eyes widening.

  Lucio laughed. “You felt it, too?”

  “I feel it whenever I’m with you, but I thought it was just me.”

  He brushed a fingertip along her bottom lip. “That time was different, yes?”

  “Stronger,” she said.

  “Genevieve.” Lucio moved a hand down the side of her body and took a handful of her slippery buttocks, pulling her tighter to him. He grabbed on, then rolled, taking her with him as they both laughed. When they’d come to a stop, Genevieve’s hair hung down over them both. Her breath quickened.

  “Mmm,” she hummed, lowering her lips to the side of his face. She let loose with a steady rain of kisses, along his jawline, to his ear, forehead, eyelids, down again to his neck. She surprised him as she took his Adam’s apple between her soft lips and sucked gently. That was something new and different.

  Genevieve’s mouth continued its journey, leaving warm licks an
d kisses on his chest, upper arms, the crook of his elbow, his wrists. She flicked at both his hard nipples with her tongue, making his dick twitch and, though he did not think it possible, grow even harder. He prayed it would not frighten her.

  He raised his chin and hissed in pleasure as she slid her tongue down the center of his abdomen, into the bristly hairs at the root of his organ, and began kissing along the length of him. He watched her open her sweet soft mouth and search for the tip of his cock. She found it. He watched her pink lips open for him.

  “The Host!” he hissed, closing his eyes, luxuriating in the pleasure that she gave him with her soft mouth, her tongue, her teeth. She was a wonder.

  Inexplicably, she took her mouth away. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, pushing herself up a little. “I’ve never met one of these that was still the way God made it.”

  Lucio chuckled, half in disbelief and half in amusement—how could this thoroughly sexual woman be apologizing for bringing him such pleasure? How in the name of God could she doubt her formidable skills?

  “Larry always told me…”

  Ah, yes. Larry.

  “…that I wasn’t any good at this.”

  How much damage had that son of a thousand bitches done to her?

  “You are magnificent!” Lucio hoped Genevieve would be reassured. He also hoped she’d continue doing what she’d been doing. He reached down and stroked the side of her face, still hovering near his now monstrous dick. Lucio had to laugh. “Can you not see how you please me? Isn’t it obvious?”

  He watched her eyes flick toward his organ. When she nodded, her hair brushed across its exposed and agonizingly tender head.

  He wiggled his toes, hissing with the exquisite torture of the sensation. “Joder!”

  “What does that word mean? You’ve said that before, too.”

  Lucio laughed. She was tormenting him! “Ah, bonita, it is a foul word and I apologize for using it around you, but it just comes out sometimes, like when you make me crazy with lust.”