Page 50 of Lucas
“You don’t believe me?”
“No. But then, I suppose you don’t really care.”
“I don’t care?” I get up and walk over to her, placing myhands on the armrests of her chair and leaning down so that her face is close to mine.
“Careful. I could make you a woman from this distance.” She lowers her gaze.
I glance down in the same direction to see her knee bent and close to my crotch. “Are you threatening me?”
“Always.” She raises her eyebrows, her lips stretching into a smile that challenges me.
Fuck. I’m enjoying this far more than I should. Sparring with her, verbally and otherwise, is becoming a dangerous addiction.
I lean in even closer until her rapid breath is against my lips. “Wifey,” I murmur, pitching my voice low and intimate. “I told you, if you want me to touch you, you’ll have to ask. Nicely.”
“Don’t call me Wifey.” She draws in a shuddering breath, her cheeks flushing pink. “And you’ll have to wait forever.”
I grin, feeling a thrum of victory. She’s not unaffected, no matter how much she tries to hide it. “Oh, Wifey. That will only make it sweeter when you finally beg for it.”
Her eyes flash. “You’re the devil in disguise.”
“I don’t see a problem here.” I smile and straighten to my full height.
“You’re sick.”
“Maybe. But what does that make you?” I let my gaze linger on her hardened nipples, visible even through her clothing. Betraying her. It’s warm and cozy in the room.
She crosses her arms over her chest, and my smile widens.
I clear my throat, forcing a note of casualness into my voice. “Well, since we’re stuck with each other for theforeseeable future, maybe we should try to find some common ground. Get to know each other a little better.”
She eyes me like a gazelle sensing a predator in the grass. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“How about a game of truth or dare?” The words slip out before I can stop them, hanging in the air between us like a challenge.
Her brows shoot up to her hairline. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Truth or dare. We each take turns asking a question or issuing a challenge. No lies, no backing down. Just pure honesty.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable, but I can see the gears turning behind those brilliant green eyes, weighing the risks and rewards of engaging with me in this way.
“Do you want to play or not? I promise whatever is said between us will stay between us. Or are you too chicken?”
“Okay, fine. Truth,” she says.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve done at work?” I lift my coffee cup and find it empty. Ugh. I debate whether to have another one.
She lowers her gaze, fidgeting with her fingers.
For a moment, I think she’s not going to answer me, but then she speaks.
“I lied to an employee,” she whispers. “I told him I would look into getting him a raise, even though I knew we didn’t have the budget for it. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on his face. He works so hard, and he deserves so much better than what I can give him.”
She falls silent, her confession hanging heavy in the airbetween us. I’m stunned by the raw vulnerability in her voice, the obvious pain and guilt that laces her words.
In that moment, she looks so young. Lost. Like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes, trying to fill shoes that are far too big for her.
Something clenches in my chest, an unfamiliar ache that feels suspiciously like sympathy. Like understanding.
