Page 105 of Lucas
She continues. Torturing me. My eyes squeeze shut.
She snatches the phone from my loosened grip and leaps to her feet.
“Ah!” I open my eyes and sit up. “You played me.”
She giggles from across the room. “So easy to manipulate a man.” She looks at my phone, a huge smile stretching her lips. “What is this?”
“That’s me losing a bet.” I sit up on the rug, running a hand through my hair.
“A pink tutu?” She’s still smiling.
I shrug. I bet against Kaleb and Noah and lost. I had to walk down the street wearing only a pink tutu and ballet slippers. They documented the whole thing, of course. Luckily, it didn’t make the gossip pages.
“You look cute.”
I place a hand over my heart. “Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?” She steps closer, concern flickering over her face.
“You called me cute.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Calling a man cute is the biggest hit to the ego. I can be handsome, hot, manly, sexy. But not cute.”
“Aww, did I wound your ego, cutie?” she taunts with a playful glint in her eye.
I growl and lunge for her, grabbing her waist and tugging until she falls on me again.
“Lucas,” she gasps, her voice husky.
“Say my name again.”
“Lucas,” she whispers, her breath fanning over my face.
“Fuck.” I lift my head and kiss her. Gently at first, but it turns heated. I pull her to me, tangling my fingers in her hair as I drink from her lips like a man dying of thirst. Her mouth is soft and pliant. I graze my teeth over her bottom lip, coaxing her to open for me, and then I give her my tongue. The kiss turns into a battle of wills, both of us fighting for dominance.
I groan into her mouth, my world narrowing to the taste and feel of her.
I break from her lips only to trail kisses down her neck, nipping and licking at her collarbone.
She pants, her eyes closed, lost in sensation.
I stop, pulling back.
My cock is hard and aching, both of us sprawled on the rug. There’s nothing I want more right now than to flip her onto her stomach, pin her arms behind her back, and fuck her deep and hard.
But I won’t be an asshole and manipulate her into it.
The old Lucas would have, for sure. But not me, not the new Lucas. The Lucas who wants more than just her body.
“Good night, Ava,” I say, my voice rough with desire I force myself to bank.
Her eyes fly open, and she scrambles off me, putting distance between us.
I want to call her back, to tell her to stay in my arms, but I restrain myself.
“Good night, Lucas.” She rises to her feet and returns to the bed, slipping under the covers.
