Page 8 of Devious Temptation
We have three homes, multiple big toys, and enough wealth that my kids won’t need to work if they don’t want to—not that I’d ever admit that to them. But the need to prove myself a worthy provider for my family drove me to work the hours that I do, which in turn pushed my wife into the arms of another man.
“Nothing is wrong with her, you jackass,” Rhys mutters, scowling at me before he pulls something up on his phone and tilts it her way. “And mom is right, you’re a littletoonice to Lucy. It’s weird.”
Disgust rolls through me as Charlotte settles on the bed next to him, laying her head on his shoulder as they watch the phone screen, dismissing me without another word. I’m not sure if it’s because of their flagrant behavior or because my son has noticed my obvious proclivity for his girlfriend.
After checking on River, I retreat back to my office. It’s the one place I know Charlotte won’t bother me. My conversation with Lucy replays over and over as I pull up a work folder on my laptop and try to distract myself.
I remember the way she stiffened when I mentionedthem being safe, a clear sign they didn’t use a condom. Is that normal for them? Does she let him inside her with no barrier often, even though they both know there’s a risk of her getting pregnant?
Charlotte and I strived to make sure Rhys never felt like a mistake, but I know firsthand what an unplanned pregnancy does when you’re straight out of high school. My oldest son’s arrival put a wrench in every plan I ever made for myself.
Lucy said she’d take care of it, but I highly doubt Rhys will accompany her. And she shouldn’t have to be subjected to the scrutiny of the pharmacy clerk due to her age.
Sighing, I scrub my face with my hands. “Fuck.”
Five
When I walkthrough the front door, my mom is sitting at the kitchen island with a glass of red wine next to her laptop. As soon as she sees me, she removes her thin wire computer glasses tiredly, pulls out the denim scrunchie holding up her waist-long strawberry locks, and rubs her scalp. “Hey, Luce. How was Rhys’ party?”
My younger sister, Lorraine, and I get our hair from our mother—even though our shade of red is much darker. Our brother, Liam, somehow ended up with dark blond hair. Dad always jokes that if Liam didn’t look exactly like him when he was younger, he’d wonder if our mother had an affair because no one in the family has hair that light.
“It was fine,” I reply, passing through the kitchen and heading to my bedroom upstairs. “I’m tired. Got a lot of sun today. I’m gonna take a shower and head to bed.”
On the way home, my brain went into overdrive, and it still hasn’t quieted.
Rhys and I had unprotected sex.
Lawson watched me come—twice. And it turned him on.
Rhys ignored my plea to talk afterward, leaving no room to discuss my decision to go to Berkeley instead of following him to Ole Miss.
Lawson got hard again when I went to apologize to him.
I liked the effect I had on him.
Ilikedit.
“Hold up. Come here for a second. I want to get your opinion on this schedule for Terror Tot Summer Camp. You’re way better at the activity time blocks than I am.”
Fearing I may break down the second I look my mother in the eyes, I shake my head and continue to ascend the stairs. “I’ll look at it tomorrow. I’m sorry. I have a headache, I’m exhausted, and I stink of the pool. I need a shower.”
Liam appears on the landing, looking like he’s ready to go out. “Where are you going? It’s nearly nine.” I eye his baggy sweatshirt that he’s holding at the bottom as though he’s hiding a bottle beneath the thick fabric.
“So? Curfew’s at eleven.” He rolls his eyes as we pass each other. My brother’s only a year younger than I am but sometimes acts like he’s still thirteen. The thing is, it’s just that—an act. Liam is smart as hell, but for some reason, he makes really shitty decisions. He’s one fuck up away from Mom and Dad hauling him off to a special school for troubled kids.
“Are you still hanging out with Thomas Becker? He’s bad news, Liam.”
“You’re not my mom, Luce. Leave me alone.” He flips the hood of his sweatshirt up and disappears downstairs.
Blowing out an exasperated breath, I storm to myroom, and it takes all my willpower not to slam the door. After a shower, I crawl beneath my butter yellow duvet and play with the frilly white lace at the edges as I will my brain to stop thinking about my boyfriend’s dad. However, every time I close my eyes, the image of Lawson watching me is imprinted behind my lids.
His well-muscled figure, which is still toned to perfection from when he played football when he was younger. The way the veins in his arms popped as he clenched his fists. Dark, stormy-gray eyes, illuminated by the lingering fragments of the retreating sun’s rays, peering at me with lust.
My body comes alive at the memory of when I unabashedly lowered my gaze to where he was hard, the outline of his cock straining against his pants.That’swhat made me come a second time.
Abandoning the lace of my blanket, I reach down between my legs, where I’m already wet, and begin to touch myself. And as I come for the third time tonight, it’s not to thoughts of my boyfriend.
But of his dad.
