Page 75 of Would You Rather
I tilt my head, noting how he seems off. “Did you like it? Living here?” I elaborate.
His lips form a tentative pout. “It’s a fast-paced city, that’s for sure,” he begins. “And I needed to be here for work,” he says with a shrug. “If I hadn’t moved here, I don’t think my career would be where it is now.”
His eyes drop, and a sigh escapes him. “But I always missed home,” he confesses. “I missed Sunday lunches with my family, I missed my best friend, and I even missed the little shit-head who happens to be my sister.” I chuckle at that, and he continues with a more somber expression. “She needed me,” he says, his voice heavy with regret. “She was going through shit she shouldn’t have to deal with, and she needed me. And I wasn’t there.”
“That’s not your fault, Lucas. You couldn’t have known.”
He shakes his head, the weight of his emotions evident. “I should have been there for her.” He lets out a harsh breath. “And then when James had his accident… I knew I couldn’t stay away any longer.”
I offer him a warm smile, my heart fluttering at the way he prioritizes his family above all else. The love he has for them is selfless and unconditional. “You’re a good guy, Lucas,” I tell him.
He returns my smile with a mischievous grin of his own. “Really?” he teases. “So, does that mean you don’t hate me anymore?”
No. I don’t. Not even close.I let out a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
He nods, chuckling along, but then the laughter fades, and his eyes lock onto mine, a hint of desire flickering in them. His eyes trace a path from my eyes down to my nose, lingering on my slightly parted lips. He continues exploring, his gaze drifting down to my body, feasting on every inch of my skin. My skin shivers with the burn of his gaze.
“Get dressed,” he finally says, his voice huskier than before. His throat moves as he swallows. “I’m starving.”
We didn’t just go to breakfast.
Once Lucas found out I had never been to New York, he took it upon himself to become my tour guide. Dragging me from place to place, trying to show me as much as possible before the gala tonight.
And then we went to lunch, where he proceeded to tell me that New York pizza was better than Chicago pizza, which I was about to deny before I took a bite. He was right. New York pizza trumps pizza back home, any day.
And then he took me to get my nails done fresh for the gala. Lucas Silva stood by the door, holding my bag on his arm, for the two whole hours it took to get my nails done. And once I was done, he paid for it, not even letting me argue about it.
I glance down at them, a smile on my lips, reminiscing on when he asked to see them. They’re dark red, matching the lipstick he requested for me to wear. He held my hand in his and brought it up, pressing his lips against the back of my hand. “Beautiful.” His whisper still remains in the depths of my brain.
The gala is almost starting, and we came back to the room to get dressed a little over an hour ago. My hair was styled, so it just needed a little refreshing. And on my body is the dress he bought me, long and silky and so beautiful. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, smoothing my hands over the fabric. I wonder what he’ll think when he sees me.
I can’t stop thinking about this morning. Our bodies curled up against each other, his fingers tickling my back as the sound of our hearts beating filled the silence. I thought I hated people touching me, but that was before this morning. Before him. Because there was nothing about that that I hated.
“Fuck.” I startle, my eyes lifting to see Lucas standing behind me in the mirror. I turn to face him and revel in how he looks at me. I love the way he looks at me like he never wants to look away. He wipes a hand over his mouth, his eyes darkening as his gaze travels down the length of my dress. The slit exposes my leg, and his eyes catch on it before they travel back to my face, zoning in on my red lips.
“Holy shit, Madeline.” His voice is thick and rough, bringing warmth down my spine.
“What do you think?”
He shakes his head, taking a step closer to me. “Fuck, Mads. You look…”
I’m unable to hide the grin on my face with the way he can’t take his eyes off me. “Yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah.” It comes out breathy and hot as hell. “I see you honored my request,” he says, smirking, his thumb slightly grazing my bottom lip.
I smile. “A deal’s a deal.” His eyes remain on my lips as his tongue darts out and traces his own.
I let my eyes travel down his suit, perfectly fitted to him. God, he looks so hot. Except his tie is slightly crooked. “Your tie,” I say, raising my hand to fix it. I think twice, curling my hand in itself when I remember the no-touching rule. But after this morning, does it still stand? Would I stop him if he wanted to touch me? Not a chance.
His eyes darken, slightly narrowing at me. “Those were your rules, Madeline,” he says. “They don’t apply to me. You want to touch me? Go ahead.”
My lips part as I look up at him, and I lift my hand again and tug on his bowtie, centering it. I smooth out his shirt, letting my hands linger on his chest, feeling the material of his white shirt beneath my fingertips.
His eyes lock on mine as we stare at each other, the tension between us too much to handle. I turn around and close my eyes, my heart racing right out of my chest. “Can you zip me up?” I ask.
He lets out a heavy exhale. “Yeah.” It comes out thick and gravelly. He clutches the zipper in his hands and starts pulling it up. The sound of the zipper is the only noise between us, and when his knuckles graze my bare back, I glance up, seeing him stare down at me in the mirror. He pulls my hair over my shoulder to finish zipping the dress up.
We remain like that, standing still, staring at each other in the mirror, until Lucas steps back, causing me to turn around to face him. “You ready to go?” he asks.
