Page 20 of Devious Temptation
Her voice is sleepy as she yawns, “Why not? There’s noone here, Lawson. It’s just you and me. And honestly, we will probably never see each other again after tonight.”
Her words make my breath catch—and not in a good way.
I haven’t thought about the future or that we have no reason to see each other beyond tonight. Rhys has ruined any sort of relationship they might have had. And if I’m being honest, I’m thankful for it.
After everything that has transpired between us these last few weeks, I’m not sure I could stand idly by while they live their lives together. Watching her walk down the aisle toward him, seeing her for every major holiday, and announcing that they have a kid on the way.
Coveting her through it all.
But the thought of never seeing her again sets off a visceral reaction in my body because I also can’t imagine my life without her in it in some capacity.
I’ve lost my fucking mind, but at least I can admit it—if only to myself.
And maybe, just this once, to her.
“Yes, Lucy.” The truth slips past my lips in the barest of whispers, “I want you.”
Silence greets me, weighing on my back like a wrecking ball. When I dare turn to gauge her reaction, steeling myself for what I might find, her eyes are closed, and her breathing is soft and steady.
With an amused huff, I raise my glass to drain what’s left of my drink as I watch her sleep. My head swims from the alcohol, but I take my place behind the desk and continue working on the leasing offer I’d been drawing up earlier.
It’s hard as fuck to concentrate when all I want to do is strip her down and have my filthy way with her.
Jesus Christ, Lawson. Get a hold of yourself. You really do need to get laid by something other than your hand.
Nearly twenty minutes go by before a whimper pulls my attention from the computer screen to the beautiful girl on the couch. Lucy moans again, her brows furrowing as she squirms against the cushions as though she’s having a nightmare.
Abandoning my work, I cross the room in just a few strides to crouch beside her. “Lucy?”
Another moan escapes her parted lips, and my shirt falls open, baring all that silk and lace to me as she rubs her thighs together. Ignoring my hardening cock, I say her name again and try to shake her firmly.
With a gasp, she jackknifes up, staring blankly ahead. “Hey, you’re okay,” I soothe.
It happens in a blur.
One second, I’m comforting her, and the next, her lips are on mine. Plump and soft, and moving against me as though we’ve been kissing for years.
“Lucy—” I try to pull away, but she threads her fingers through my hair as she pushes me onto my ass. Our mouths part as she straddles my lap, and a fog of lust fills my brain as she starts to rock her hips.
A hoarse groan pours from my throat as she hungrily takes what she wants. I’m so fucking hard as she presses her chest against mine, grasping at my back to pull me closer. Her gloss tastes like actual berries as I give in to my desires and kiss her back with everything I have.
Kissing her makes me feel more alive than ever before.
I’m going to hell for this.
Lucy’s lips part, allowing my tongue to tangle with hers. The taste of tequila and whiskey mixes in a smooth and sweet profile, combining with lip gloss and something else I can only describe purely asher. It explodes my senses as I become fully engulfed in everything about Lucy. Her taste, her sweet lilac scent, the smooth expanse of skin from her calf to her butt, and everywhere in between.
Her heels lock behind my back as she rubs against me harder, moaning into my mouth. My fingers slide beneath the lace that covers her ass, and I anchor her to me as I thrust upward. Without pulling back, she strokes down my arm until her hand reaches mine.
Then she places it over her pussy.
“Fuck, Lucy,” I breathe as I look down to where my fingers slide back and forth over the purple silk. It’s dark and damp.
A voice in the back of my head tells me to stop—warning me that this is an awful idea and that I shouldn’t do this with her. But no matter how much I tell myself to pull away, I can’t.
“Rhys,” Lucy whispers my son’s name like a fucking prayer, and it’s about as effective as pouring a glass of ice water over my head.
Thatis enough to get me to stop. She isn’t truly awake.
