Page 59 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
Lucian: Sober Liv doesn’t want me to fuck her mouth, hit her throat with my cock while she’s in charge?
Olivia: Correct.
Lucian: You’re a terrible liar.
Olivia: No, you’re a terrible influence.
Lucian: Mmm. So my influence is turning you into a vixen who wants my cock?
Olivia: That’s not what I said.
Lucian: Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. I know you meant every word.
I throw my phone back onto the bed, dragging my hands over my face again.
He’s too good at this.
And the worst part?
He’s right.
I do think about it—about him. That is the real problem.
Lucian Crawford is trying to suck me into a game I should not be playing.
Because no matter how much I convince myself that I have control, he will always push me farther than I expect.
He’ll challenge me.
He’ll test me.
He’ll dare me to keep up.
And the worst part?
Sometimes I want to.
That’s what makes this dangerous.
Because Lucian?
He wins.
He keeps winning.
And I hate losing.
This is reckless.
This is messy.
This is a slippery slope straight into bad decisions and morning-after regrets.
Yet, a tiny, reckless part of me likes it.
That thrill that sparks in my chest when he flirts too close.
The way he watches me, like he’s already decided I belong to him.
