Page 13 of Devious Temptation
As it is, my fists clench of their own accord at my sides as I try to tear my eyes away from the breathtaking image Lucy makes while her mom and aunts fuss over her. Her dress is emerald velvet and hugs her curves. There’s a high slit on one side where the dress drapes in waves, while the other side is slightly shorter and straighter. It’s strapless, and her breasts heave over the corseted top. Her makeup is simple, like always, but she’s sporting a red lip that makes my insides sweat. Her hair falls in waves, pinned over her shoulder on one side, like a Hollywood starlet at a red carpet event.
“You are…” Rhys takes a deep breath. “Wow. I am one lucky guy.”
He sure fucking is.
Lucy smiles widely, eyes darting to me briefly before she goes to stand in front of her boyfriend while he fishes a red rose corsage out of its box to place on her wrist.
“See, if you’d kept eating Lawson’s cookies, you wouldn’t have fit in that beautiful dress. It’s just a tad too snug, dear,” Charlotte sneers from behind her wine glass.
Will chokes on his beer as Bree whirls to face my wife. “Now, you listen here?—”
Bree’s friends try to intercept her, and everyone is talking at once to either try and calm her down or tell my wife off—who looks alarmed that everyone is so upset by her comment. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I glance over to see that my son is unaffected by his mother’s words, but Lucy seems devastated.
“Don’t listen to her. You look beautiful,” Rhys whispers before kissing her forehead, completely unaware of her distress. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick before we leave.” If he notices that she’s upset, he doesn’t acknowledge it before he disappears into the guest bathroom down the hall.
“I… I forgot my clutch,” Lucy murmurs amidst the chaos, escaping back upstairs. Her mom and aunts are still having words with Charlotte, who is holding her hands out as if she doesn’t understand what the big deal is.
Anger courses through me, followed by utter embarrassment. I don’t even bother trying to jump into the fray because I’m not on my wife’s side. This has been a long time coming for her, and she needs to reap what she sows.
With everyone preoccupied, I mutter an excuse that I need to use the toilet as well, knowing the other guest bathroom is upstairs. After climbing the steps two at a time, I make my way down the hall, peering into the open doors to try and find Lucy. Eventually, I hear a sniffling sound and nearly run into her as she exits what must be her bedroom.
Startled, teary eyes blink up at me. “Lawson?”
“Hey,” I offer lamely, leaning against the cream-colored doorframe. “I just wanted to check on you.” Something my son should be doing. “Are you alright?”
I hate seeing her cry, even if the tears haven’t fallen yet. Her eyes drop to my chest, and her lip quivers as she picks at her freshly manicured French tips. Without thinking, I straighten and reach for her hands, holding them in mine as I step in close.
“Please don’t listen to anything Charlotte says. She’s… she’s…”
“Awful?” Lucy sniffs, squeezing her fingers around mine before shaking off my hold so she can dab under her eyes. She goes back into her room, and I follow her as she enters her en suite and grabs a tissue to fix her makeup.
Standing in the doorway, I nod in agreement. “Yes, she can be awful. I’m sorry she’s so unkind to you.”
“I just don’t get what her deal is. I haven’t done anything to warrant her hatred. I’ve been nothing but wonderful to Rhys for the past two years.” Lucy grabs a golden tube and unscrews the cap, carefully applying more mascara to her bottom lashes.
Some of her hair escapes the clip and falls down her back, and my fingers itch to reach out and touch it. “She’s just jealous.”
Lucy’s eyebrows screw together in confusion as she glances at me in the mirror before tending to her other eye. “What on earth does she have to be jealous of me for?”
Without skipping a beat, I reply, “Because you’re taking away her son's attention. And because you’re beautiful.”
Lucy
Lawson’s words break the internal dam that’s been holding back all my warm and fuzzy feelings for him. I’ve been building it all week, and with a simple phrase, he blows it up like dynamite.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying that.” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.
As he turns to leave, I lunge toward him, wincing as my hair catches in the zipper of my dress. “Wait! Ahh!” Myshoulders tighten to hold the garment in place as it tugs at a few stray strands.
Why does it always hurt worse when one or two hairs get pulled rather than a handful?
Don’t ask how I know that the latter doesn’t hurt as bad.
“What is it?” Lawson asks in alarm, getting so close I can smell his minty pine aftershave.
I try to turn my head, but the movement hurts. “My hair is caught in the zipper.”
The corner of his mouth lifts into an amused half-smirk that I’m starting to think about entirely too often. “Hold still.”
