Page 31 of Assigned

Chapter Thirteen

Riley

The house is empty when I arrive home, a note on the fridge informing me Lucas had a meeting. Which meant I had time to decide my next move. And that is to make things right. I don’t want to be the reason Lucas loses custody of Mason. But sitting here on the couch, staring out the window, waiting to spot his truck, is doing little for my anxiety.

I need a distraction. I reach out and grab my laptop from the coffee table. Might as well use my time productively. Opening my email, I pull up the messages from the two companies who’d offered me jobs.

Clicking on a new document, I begin to type out all the information into two columns. Pay. Retirement benefits. Insurance options. Paid training. Days off. And the list goes on. Then I start adding technical requirements.

By the time I’m done, Lucas pulls into the driveway and I steel myself for what comes next. The front door clicks open as I close my laptop and place it back on the coffee table. My husband walks inside, his head turns in my direction, and after a brief pause, he keeps walking.

“Lucas, can we talk?” I ask, keeping my voice level and even, although my heart is hammering.

He stops, the muscles in his back tensing. He’s so strong. He always was. Strong and steady and sensible. It’s why I broke up with him. I knew how he’d behave when he found out how ill I was. What he’d sacrifice to stay by my side. I couldn’t have it. It wouldn’t have been fair.

He turns to me, face impassive except for a pronounced tic of his jaw. “Tried that. Didn’t go so well for me. Might lose my kid and my job because of talking.”

I look down at my hands. “I know. I’m sorry. I... I regret what I said. I’ll call Dr. Stehman and tell her I was just angry and looking for a way to lash out.”

He just lingers there, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, watching me with those chocolate-brown eyes. Since he continues to remain silent, I push on. “How did things go with the lawyer?”

“It went.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? I want to be there for you and for Mason. Please let me know the best way to do that. I would love to be there with you when you meet with the lawyer next time if you think that would make things easier.”

He shakes his head. “I... I didn’t know you wanted to go. I didn’t know if you wanted to have anything to do with me.”

I get up and walk over to where he stands, then reach up and place my hand on his jaw. I turn it so he faces me, looks at me, sees me. “Mason is the best and you’re a great dad. There’s no reason we can’t provide a loving second home for him.”

He takes my hand. “I hope Lisa sees it that way.”

I give that hand a squeeze. “We’ll make her see it.”

For a moment we stand there, hands locked together, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body, smell the woodsy scent of his cologne. I place my other hand on his chest and feel the thump of his heart, strong and steady against my palm. And those muscles! The man is made out of marble. “I, uh, want to apologize for what happened on the beach the other day.”

His muscles stiffen under my hand. He’s still angry. I understand why a bit more now that I’ve had time to think about it. I didn’t trust him. I’m still not sure I do, but if I want him to trust me, I’m going to have to try. It’s a two-way street.

I want him to see me. Really see me. All of me. That means he’ll have questions. Questions I think I’m ready to answer now. I suck in a deep breath and pop the top button of his shirt. The thump of his heart picks up pace.

“Riley?” His voice comes out gravelly and deep.

I pop the next button. And the next.

His breath comes in short bursts, his hands clenched at his sides. I slide the shirt off his arms and stare at the chiseled body before me. So masculine. So powerful. So different from when we were kids and yet still so familiar.

My sex pulsates, my nipples harden the longer I look. But anxiety is there too. I’ve had a man want me before only to run out when he saw me naked. I swallow past the fear. That man wasn’t Lucas. Lucas won’t do that.

At least I hope he won’t.

I reach down to take his hand again and my eyes catch sight of the bulge between his legs. The corners of my mouth curl up. Some things don’t change. I know exactly what’s behind the material of his pants. My breath quickens at the thought of feeling him inside me again. He’d been my first and the few other encounters I’d had never quite measured up.

Taking Lucas by the wrist, I lead him up the stairs and into my bedroom. He doesn’t say a word. Just follows.

Once inside, I push him down gently to take a seat on the edge of the bed. My body hums with both a sexual and nervous energy. Here we go. Moment of truth.

I reach behind and pull down on the zipper to my dress, watching as the orange-flowered garment falls to the floor. I inhale deeply and stand straight in nothing but a lace thong, completely exposed to the air, to the world, to Lucas.

The room remains quiet, every creak of the house sounding louder than the blare of a train’s horn. I bite my lip and look to Lucas. His fingers grasp the blanket covering my bed, brows furrowed as he concentrates on my abdomen, at the scars that crisscross there.

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