Page 37 of Devious Temptation
Each word is a new jab until I snatch her wrist mid-air and haul her against me, stepping forward until her back is pressed against the wall. I’m instantly hard, my erection pressing into her stomach. I know she feels it from the way her eyes widen and her mouth drops open in an O.
“You know damn well I’m not going to sit by and watch you make stupid decisions just to spite me, Lucy.” In a softer tone, I say, “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
With a huff, she slants her hips into mine, dragging her body against my cock as she whispers sultrily, “What? Do you want to take care of me now?” One arm winds over my shoulder, the other still firm in my grip as I hold it against the wall next to her head. “You always did like making sure I was taken care of, especially when Rhys wouldn’t do it.”
Little fucking brat.
Against my better judgment, molten desire claws down my spine, my body begging me to flip her skirt up and take her right here, even though anyone can walk by at any moment and see us. “You’re acting like a child.”
She smirks, lifting her chin. “You liked me better when I was a child.”
My grip tightens, the flimsy material of her dress bunching beneath my fingers as I dig them into her side. My stomach twists at her words.
“Are you trying to press my buttons, rainbow?” My nostrils flare, my breaths becoming hot, shallow pants as myanger at the insinuation and my lust from her proximity increases.
Lucy pushes up on her toes, using my shoulder for balance as she brings her face close to mine. “Can your buttons be pressed, Lawson? You act like you hate me one moment, and the next, you look like you want to repeat graduation night. Which is it,sir? Where is the button I need to press to get my way?”
Our lips are nearly touching. This damn temptress is just daring me to close the distance and give her what she wants. Her wrist slips out of my grasp, and she lays her palm flat against my chest, sliding it downward to my painfully obvious erection.
She’s always been this bold. From not freaking out when I saw my son fucking her to straight up looking at my cock. Not to mention that night, which she keeps bringing up, when she rode me like I wasn’t her boyfriend’s dad, pressing arousal-coated fingers into my mouth.
Lucy isn’t shy about what she wants, and for a split second, I almost give in—until a breathy moan leaves her mouth and logic kicks me in the balls, reminding me of all the reasons it’s not a good idea.
As much as I want to shove her against the wall and spank the sass out of her while fucking her, I unwind her hands from me and take a wordless step back.
Disappointment fills her eyes as she deflates like a popped balloon. “Message received,Mr. Morgan.” Without another word, she turns and walks down the hall, disappearing into the crowded bar.
And I let her go.
Because that’s the kindest thing I can do for her.
Fourteen
Damn Lauren.
Thisis what they mean byLauren’s Fault.
Nearly two days after that evening at the bar, I still don’t know how I’m supposed to face Lawson at work tomorrow.
“Luce?”
Lawson, with his hard abs and chiseled jaw. I can’t stop thinking of the way his moody gray eyes filled with raw desire when he pushed me against the wall, his hard length pressing into my abdomen.
The way his palm twitched like he wanted to spank me when I called him Daddy.
“Luuuucyyyyy? Earth to Lucy.”
I called himDaddy.
Okay, well, technically, I said hewasn’tmy daddy.
“LUCY!” Lorraine’s dream-like voice cuts through my thoughts, her fingers snapping in front of my face. Her pine-colored eyes come into view above me as reflections of what happened Friday night flee from my brain.
“What?” I snap, jackknifing into a sitting position on my childhood bed.
Even though I have an apartment in the city, I still like to come home on the weekends for brunch club. This particular weekend, I promised to help Lorraine finish the friendship bracelets she made for her entire graduating class since her ceremony is next week. But from the looks of it, she completed most of what was left while I abandoned my beads and elastic cord for memories of heated glances and the thin thread of Lawson’s willpower that I almost managed to snap.
“My lighter is out of fluid. Where is yours?” If my little sister is upset at being ignored, she doesn’t show it. Her expression has settled into her typical serene regard as she holds out her hand expectantly, gripping a frayed cord in the other. As I stretch out to grab the lighter I keep in my nightstand drawer, she asks, “Where have you been all day?”
