aroused her enough that a low moan escaped her lips.
“Is that a yes?”
A sensual force seemed to overtake her. Where was his sexual aura coming from? Hadn’t she thought of faking it just a minute ago? Now he was arousing her all over again with mere words. Laramie Cooper was too compelling for his own good. Definitely too sexy.
She should have known she couldn’t fake anything with him because he had the ability to turn her on, even when she thought such a thing wasn’t possible.
“Yes,” she said.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers. The moment their lips touched, every hormone in her body crackled. She knew it was more than their combined tastes driving her over the edge. It was the masterful way his tongue dominated her mouth.
Her nerves did a pirouette, her brain sprinted and her stomach flipped.
He ended the kiss and looked down at her in a way that made moisture gather between her thighs. “You’re ready for me again, Bristol?”
Yes, she was ready, even when she’d thought earlier there was no way she could go another round. Not only could she go, she intended to participate to the fullest and there wouldn’t be anything fake about it. “Yes, I’m ready.”
Her legs opened automatically, as if her body needed what he was giving. It had been three years since she’d done this and the last time had been with him. She slipped her arms around his neck and felt the large length of his erection touching her feminine mound.
Then he eased inside, inch by inch. His fullness encompassed her as he went deeper, filling her to the hilt. Her body stretched to accommodate him.
“You okay?”
She looked up and met his gaze. “Yes, I’m okay.”
And honestly, she was. It was like a homecoming. The man she’d thought lost to her forever, the man she’d believed would never make love to her again, was doing just that. It was more than she could have hoped for.
“Thank you for my son,” he whispered hoarsely.
And then he began moving while still holding her gaze, as if daring her to look away. She stared into his eyes while his body thrust inside her with a rhythm that released a sensual throb of desire in her veins. The sinfully erotic movement of his hips drew everything out of her, while at the same time demanding that she take as much of him as she could. Each hard thrust made her moan.
He kept moving at an unhurried pace, as if he wanted her to feel every single stroke. And she did. They were a perfect fit. She felt intense pleasure all the way to her bones. The undercurrent flowing between them was explosive, hot with passion of the most mind-blowing kind.
Her body moved with his. Her inner muscles tightened around him. Together they were creating a sensual heat like she’d never felt before...not even the last time. She’d thought nothing could be more powerful than what they’d already shared. Bristol was proven wrong.
Then he increased his pace, refined his strokes and pumped into her with a vigor that made her entire body respond. She exploded the same time he did, and he covered her mouth to keep the scream from her lips.
They seemed to flow into each other. Her hips were connected to his. Their bodies were perfectly aligned as they experienced the throes of ecstasy together. When he finally released her mouth, she drew in a deep breath and clung to his shoulders. They rode the waves of pleasure together.
Moments later, he rolled off her and gathered her in his arms. His thumb stroked her cheeks. The last thing Bristol remembered before sleep overtook her was whispering his name.
Coop wasn’t sure what awakened him, but he jerked upright in bed and glanced around before remembering where he was. Bristol’s bed. He drew in a deep breath and rubbed his hand down his face before looking at the clock. It was three in the morning. The spot beside him was empty. He’d been sleeping so soundly that he hadn’t noticed when Bristol got out of bed.
Where was she? He lay back down thinking she was probably in the bathroom. A few minutes later, when she hadn’t returned, he got up and checked. She wasn’t there. Had she gone to see about Laramie? Coop pulled on his jeans and left the bedroom to go to his son’s room. He found his son sleeping, but Bristol wasn’t there, either.
He was about to head downstairs when he heard a noise coming from the attic. He knew from playing hide-and-seek with Laramie that she’d converted the attic into her studio and that was where she did most of her painting. Was she painting this time of morning?
Coop walked up the six steps and found the door open. And there she was, standing in front of an easel. Was she wearing anything under that artist’s cape? It was short and hit her at midthigh, which gave him a good view of her legs. She had a nice pair and like him, she was in her bare feet. He watched the look of concentration on her face. Her full attention was on whatever she was painting. Considering what they’d done tonight she should be exhausted. Obviously, she had a lot of energy.
She hadn’t noticed him and he decided not to disturb her. Coop took in the room. It was huge. There were several built-in cabinets for her supplies. There was also a love seat, as well as a sink and counter that he figured she used as a cleanup station. The room had only one small window and he figured she wanted the least distractions possible while painting.
Coop was about to leave when he noticed several framed photographs on the wall. One was a photo of her and an older man. They favored each other and he figured the man was her father. He studied the man’s features and tried to recall why he seemed so familiar.
Coop leaned in the doorway and recalled bits and pieces of what she’d told him about her past. Their son’s middle name had been her father’s first name. When they’d first met, her last name had been Lockett. He also remembered the story she’d told him about the two years she and her father had spent together before he’d died.
“That’s a picture of you and your father, isn’t it?”
His words had her swinging around so fast she almost dropped her paint brush. She released a nervous breath. “Coop, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” he said, entering the room. “I woke up and found you gone and wondered where you’d taken off to.” It hadn’t been his intention to stay the night at her house, but after making love that first time, they’d slept and had awakened to make love once more. Then they’d fallen asleep again.
She smiled over at him. “I didn’t want to wake you. In addition to painting during Laramie’s nap time, I often paint late at night when he’s asleep.” She then broke eye contact and glanced at the framed photograph. “Yes, that’s my father,” she said proudly. He could hear the love in her voice.
“Randall Lockett was your father.”
She snatched her gaze to him. “How do you know that?”
He could see the surprised look on her face. Was her father’s identity supposed to be a secret or something? “I recognize him. I’m familiar with his work thanks to my parents, namely my mother. She owns several of his paintings.”
“She
