Page 17 of Devious Temptation
Rhys pounds on the door. “Lucy! Talk to me!” His voice is muffled, but I can still make out his words.
“There’s nothing to fucking talk about, you jackass!” With a rage-filled cry, Lucy turns away and pulls Rhys’ jersey over her head, leaving her in nothing but a bra and underwear as she stomps toward my desk.
Objectively, I know I should have announced myself thesecond she began to remove the jersey. But watching her expose a vast expanse of skin stuns me into silence.
Grabbing the scissors from a drawer, she begins to slice the blades through the fabric while muttering curses under her breath about my son being a lying, cheating bastard.
“Lucy, baby, let’s talk about this, okay? I know I fucked up. I’m so sorry,” Rhys’ tone is strained and frantic on the other side of the door, but she ignores him and continues shredding the black and green material.
Iknewsomething was going on with the blonde.
Afraid Lucy might hurt herself, I say her name softly, trying not to startle her.
She jumps anyway, spinning to stare at me with wide, teary eyes. Her raspberry-painted lips are formed in a surprised O. “Lawson? What are you doing in here?”
Trying my damnedest to keep my focus on her face and not let it wander down her exposed body, I swallow the lump in my throat before replying, “I could ask you the same thing.” My voice comes out huskier than I meant it to, and I clear my throat in an attempt to make it go back to normal.
“Well…” She slams the scissors and what's left of the jersey onto the surface of my desk. “…I just caught my boyfriend fucking another girl.” A fresh wave of tears spills from her eyes as her bottom lip begins to quiver. “I’m sorry. I was going to lock myself in River’s room, but Rhys caught up before I could make it that far.” She grabs her elbows, unwittingly pushing her breasts together, as she drops her eyes to the floor.
My son’s pounding has ceased, and I see my cell light up on my desk. It’s most likely him asking if I’m in here withher since we’re talking too quietly to hear anything on his side.
“Fuck, Lucy. I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” she bites out, gaze snapping up to mine as it fills with rage. “Because you apparently saw them together tonight but didn’t say anything.”
The ire in her eyes fills me with shame, but I shake my head and scratch my neck. “It’s not my business.”
“You should have said something!” she shouts before pointing at me. “Youknowwhat this feels like!”
My chest seizes, and I hold up my hands in surrender. “You’re right.” The admission cools the steam pouring from her, and she deflates. Instead of telling her I tried watching for her arrival all night, I murmur, “I’m sorry.”
Silence extends between us for a few moments before she rubs her forehead with obvious frustration. “No. I’m sorry. It’s not like you could have done anything.”
“I didn’t know… for certain if something was happening,” I offer lamely. While Lucy’s not paying attention to me, I allow my eyes to drift down her body, taking in every curve and dip that I’ve spent the last few weeks fantasizing about exploring and trying to commit it to memory like a creep because I’ll never see her in this state again. “I should… uh… go get you some clothes.”
Realization dawns over her pretty features as she looks down at herself and shrugs her shoulders. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me in a bathing suit.” Then, in a quieter tone, she mutters, “Or completely naked, for that matter.”
A cough escapes my throat, and I have to pound on my chest a few times to dislodge the bitter taste of the sarcasm in her words.
No, this isnothinglike her lounging in her high-waisted bikinis by the pool. And it’s somehow more intimate than her being bare. This is… this is lust-filled fantasies about centerfold models. This is pure art in the form of black and royal purple lingerie that hugs her curves and has my cock so rock hard I could balance my body weight on it. There’s silk and lace and artistically placed appliques that hide her nipples, and I want to tear them from her body with my teeth.
I swallow another lump when she tenses her thighs, and my eyes snap back to her face to find her cheeks red as cherries. She’s watching me take her in.
And she likes it.
“Here, put this on.” I make quick work of the buttons on my shirt, handing it over without meeting her eyes. In a near panic, I cross the room to swipe my tumbler from the minibar and down the whiskey in one gulp.
Her voice is small, almost meek, when she speaks again. “I’m done.”
When I turn back to her…
Holy fuck.
Somehow, all that lace and silk is a thousand times hotter beneath the open white button-down. It hits her thighs, the sleeves falling past her hands, and a tempting smile is plastered over her face as she rolls them up. “Can I have one of those?”
I follow her gaze to my empty glass and huff a laugh, even as I move around the bar to grab another one. “I thought you were never drinking hard liquor again?”
“It’s the amber-colored ones that get me. Do you haveany tequila?” Lucy asks in a tone that implies she already knows I do.
