He let her go.
But the sobering truth to him was that he really needed to know if he could get his own red cape, the one that had been stored away for so many years, and figure out how to stand on his own. Be who he really was. Jane was a smart woman. Traumatized by her sister’s death and filled with guilt and sadness for the loss, yet she had found her way out of the void. Did she have it in her to help him out?
Lucas moved over to clean off the kitchen island. He wiped down the counter, put away the milk and washed the knife in the sink. When he was done he gave Penny a puppy treat and grabbed a piece of the broken American cheese slices Jane kept in the fridge and gave Pop Tart two small squares.
He moved around the kitchen with the grace of a large stealthy cat; a man used to moving in total silence. What could his life have been like before he came to North Carolina? What happened during those two years he alluded to so often? His body was tall and strong. Always so quiet and watchful.
While he was busy, she read the roadmap of his body. The small scars dotting his chest and forearms caught and held her attention, though a really vicious one on his right flank was harder to make out because he tended to turn it away from her. A long, thin white scar bisected his right shoulder, and a small explosive looking circle marred his left ribcage. The small of his back, around his kidneys, had a cross-hatching of thicker scars. And as usual, when watching his beautiful body, Jane’s fingers itched to trace his scars and heal them with her love. She was dying to ask more about his life, but he spoke first.
“Okay, then what about the other book you finished the night we met. What’s that one about?”
A sad, stricken look passed over her face. “That one, huh? It’s number five in the series. It’s a teen read—” he looked confused so Jane spoke over him before he could ask.
“That’s a book written for kids around 13, 14, 15. Not really active, rebellious teenagers yet but older than young children. There’s no pictures, and it’s a good opportunity to write in conflicts so the characters can be in control of resolving things themselves. It’s not really role-playing, but most kids play over the things they read in their minds. So, you know, maybe if they’re in similar situations in real life they have already played it out in their heads and won’t make the same bad choices of the characters in a story.”
Lucas looked impressed. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back against the granite counter, smiling. “That’s quite a change of pace from the superhero picture book, isn’t it?”
She slid off the stool and popped him on the rounded curve of his ass. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed. I’m pooped, but if you’re lucky I’ll let you make love to me one more time before breakfast.”
“Wait—you didn’t answer me. So why the broad range of ages?” He picked up the pace so he could throw his arm around her shoulder. He tightened his arm and tucked her tight against his side, where he liked the way she fit.
They got to the bedroom and Jane went to use the bathroom and brush her teeth. Once she was done, Lucas followed suit.
They crawled into bed and got under the covers. The cool sheets felt good against his heated skin. “Well?” he prompted.
Jane looked at him for a minute before she spoke. She was working something over in her head, maybe gathering her courage, and then she took a deep breath.
“Lucas, before I answer you I want you to tell me a little more about yourself. What was so bad that you can’t talk about it? I mean, the last two years that you mentioned before.”
He scurried out of the bed and backed away from her. “Whoa, Jane.” He tangled his fingers through his hair, pulling it at the roots and letting it go. It stuck out like Albert Einstein’s.
“ Shit. I wasn’t ready to do
But the sobering truth to him was that he really needed to know if he could get his own red cape, the one that had been stored away for so many years, and figure out how to stand on his own. Be who he really was. Jane was a smart woman. Traumatized by her sister’s death and filled with guilt and sadness for the loss, yet she had found her way out of the void. Did she have it in her to help him out?
Lucas moved over to clean off the kitchen island. He wiped down the counter, put away the milk and washed the knife in the sink. When he was done he gave Penny a puppy treat and grabbed a piece of the broken American cheese slices Jane kept in the fridge and gave Pop Tart two small squares.
He moved around the kitchen with the grace of a large stealthy cat; a man used to moving in total silence. What could his life have been like before he came to North Carolina? What happened during those two years he alluded to so often? His body was tall and strong. Always so quiet and watchful.
While he was busy, she read the roadmap of his body. The small scars dotting his chest and forearms caught and held her attention, though a really vicious one on his right flank was harder to make out because he tended to turn it away from her. A long, thin white scar bisected his right shoulder, and a small explosive looking circle marred his left ribcage. The small of his back, around his kidneys, had a cross-hatching of thicker scars. And as usual, when watching his beautiful body, Jane’s fingers itched to trace his scars and heal them with her love. She was dying to ask more about his life, but he spoke first.
“Okay, then what about the other book you finished the night we met. What’s that one about?”
A sad, stricken look passed over her face. “That one, huh? It’s number five in the series. It’s a teen read—” he looked confused so Jane spoke over him before he could ask.
“That’s a book written for kids around 13, 14, 15. Not really active, rebellious teenagers yet but older than young children. There’s no pictures, and it’s a good opportunity to write in conflicts so the characters can be in control of resolving things themselves. It’s not really role-playing, but most kids play over the things they read in their minds. So, you know, maybe if they’re in similar situations in real life they have already played it out in their heads and won’t make the same bad choices of the characters in a story.”
Lucas looked impressed. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back against the granite counter, smiling. “That’s quite a change of pace from the superhero picture book, isn’t it?”
She slid off the stool and popped him on the rounded curve of his ass. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed. I’m pooped, but if you’re lucky I’ll let you make love to me one more time before breakfast.”
“Wait—you didn’t answer me. So why the broad range of ages?” He picked up the pace so he could throw his arm around her shoulder. He tightened his arm and tucked her tight against his side, where he liked the way she fit.
They got to the bedroom and Jane went to use the bathroom and brush her teeth. Once she was done, Lucas followed suit.
They crawled into bed and got under the covers. The cool sheets felt good against his heated skin. “Well?” he prompted.
Jane looked at him for a minute before she spoke. She was working something over in her head, maybe gathering her courage, and then she took a deep breath.
“Lucas, before I answer you I want you to tell me a little more about yourself. What was so bad that you can’t talk about it? I mean, the last two years that you mentioned before.”
He scurried out of the bed and backed away from her. “Whoa, Jane.” He tangled his fingers through his hair, pulling it at the roots and letting it go. It stuck out like Albert Einstein’s.
“ Shit. I wasn’t ready to do
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