Page 27 of Contingently Yours
“And tell him you’re duping his clients by making out with one of your co-workers? Yeah. He’ll love that.”
“If I were you, I think I’d wait until your honeymoon tour is over before you get too confident,” Terry adds as I hear the side door to the pool open around the corner behind me. Mason and Keenan’s voices float over the concrete, telling me they’re headed for a swim in the pool.
Closing my eyes, I lean back in my lounger and take another sip of my beer. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because it looks like your man isn’t as satisfied as you think,” he says smugly.
What the fuck is he going on about? Opening my eyes, I peer down at the dock. Dario is standing behind the big furry monster truck enthusiast, chest nearly pressed to his back. The Aussie’s hand is back on Lucas’ wrist, guiding his arm back while his other hand is on his shoulder. And Lucas… Why the fuck are those big lips of his parted?
“Wouldn’t it be funny if you faked it to make a sale and the guy you’re faking it with ends up breaking up your clients?” Terry cackles.
Every muscle in my body locks up over the possibility. It shouldn’t be a possibility. Nothing Terry ever says holds any merit, but damn it, I have eyes! What in the fuck does Lucas think he’s doing getting cozy with the clients? On their honeymoon, nonetheless! And he thinksI’mdishonest? I’m not a homewrecker.
“Can it, Terry,” I clip and end the call.
Scrambling out of the lounger, I nearly face-plant it on the patio and spill my beer. Freaking Lucas. Mason and Keenan are just around the side of the building. They have a view of the beach from over there. How in the hell is it going to look if they see him skin to skin with their husband?
Hustling down the path to the dock, I keep my eyes trained on my despicable boyfriend. Oh my God. He’s laughing! Actually laughing. He doesn’t laugh with me in front of them. How is that going to look?
“Shameless,” I mutter. “Fucking shameless.”
It only gets worse the closer I approach. The pole bends, and their faces light up. Clearly, Dario’s tutelage has paid off. All I see when he grips Lucas’ shoulder eagerly as Lucas reels in his catch is deceit. Lucas is just standing there, letting another man paw him right in front of me. No wonder his bride-to-be left his ass in the frozen section. The man can’t be trusted.
Hands touch hands as they wrangle the fish into their grasp. This should not be the first time I see all of Lucas’ freaking teeth. Boyfriends are supposed to smile at their boyfriends, not at other people’s husbands. Have I ever gotten a smile like that from him? Fuck no. All I get is sass and indifference. Unless my mouth is…
“Drew! Check it out, mate. What do you reckon? Sixteen inches?” Dario enthuses over the fish flapping in his grip on the end of Lucas’ line.
“Way to go, babe,” my voice comes out low and possessive, although it was meant to be a warning.
Grabbing Lucas by the waist, my hand sinks into the soft flesh of his love handle as I yank him to me. His jaw parts, and I catch a shadow of his widened eyes behind his sunglasses before I grip his neck and slam my mouth down onto his.
This is his fault. Someone has to salvage his foolish display of grab-ass with Dario. We’re just lucky that I have a superpower and am not afraid to use it.
Slanting my mouth against his, I tease the seam of his lips with the tip of my tongue, getting a whiff of his sweaty scent in the process. I thought he’d smell like a well-used gym, but he doesn’t. There’s something clean and sweet in his aroma that mingles with the salty breeze. It’s heady and addictive, completely at odds with everything else about him.
On cue, his mouth-breathing activates and his lips part. Ha! I’ve still got it. I’ve still got it, and Lucas wants it. It’s not enough, though, after the fuckery he just ensnared himself in.
I am a man on a mission. Iwillget another whimper out of this big lug so he can prove how much he loves his boyfriend, and isn’t here to fuck up our clients’ matrimony.
Slipping my tongue over that pillowy lower lip of his, a burst of flavor explodes in my mouth when his tongue meets mine. My breath hitches. He tastes like nothing and yet everything all at once—a chemical reaction like that stuff in food at buffets they say makes people unable to stop eating even after they’re full. I’m suddenly starving, carving my tongue around his because no kiss has ever felt like this. There’s got to be a catch. I’ll hate it in about two seconds.
Thick fingers dig into the meat of my shoulder. I’m about to come to my senses and give up on my lesson about who this dickhead belongs to, expecting him to push me away, but he doesn’t. Those fingers grip and pull me closer.
Closer.
Lucas Everettewantsmy mouth. That discovery alone has me pulling back to breathe.
I get only an inch away and a second of air. His parted, panting lips chase mine, letting out a needy little whimper.
Fucking hell. That sound.
If his taste is a food additive, that whimper is absinthe. When his mouth crashes into mine again, I shove my tongue as deep as I can into it. I don’t know what in the hell is wrong with me, but I take it out on him with a punishing kiss that has him grunting and whining. Not fucking helping. Jesus. How is the best kiss I’ve ever had, an angry one with a grumpy, wood-whittling veteran who has a penis and more body hair than my front lawn?
A low whistle infringes on the feral noises Lucas is spilling down my throat. “Reckon I better talk to the fellas about rewarding me like that when I go fishing,” Dario says behind me.
Shit. We have an audience.
What am I saying? Of course, we have an audience. That was the point. Why the hell else would I have let this happen?
