Page 56 of Devious Temptation
I don’t wait for an answer before fleeing, rushing toward the lobby. It’s fate that I happen to run into Lucy halfway to the elevator. She’s wrapped in a fluffy robe, her hair tied up in a large white towel, fresh-faced and looking downright fucking beautiful with her glowing skin and bubbly aura.
“Hey! How was the forum?”
“Boring. Honestly, nothing I didn’t know already.” I nod to the towel. “How was the spa?”
“Heavenly.” She grins mischievously. “I might have given your credit card a workout.”
With a laugh, I wipe a stray strand of copper hair off her forehead. “That’s good. You deserve it. Besides, you might have dinner plans tonight. Dorsen wants to take you out.” I don’t know what makes me say it because internally, I scream at myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
Her face turns pink, and it’s not a side effect of her facial. “Well… how wouldyoufeel if I went to dinner with him?”
What the actual fuck?
Furrowing my brows, I frown at her as I place my hands on my hips like a disapproving father. “You’re actually interested in that guy?”
With a slight shrug, she coyly peers up at me through her lashes—they’re perfect, naturally thick, and not at all like caterpillars. “Sure. Why not?”
Rage floods my system, setting every warning bell in my body off. My brain flashes a big, red “NO”symbol, telling my body to cool off and remain calm. I count to ten, focusing on my breathing as she analyzes my face, no doubt searching for my reaction.
“You’re a grown woman.” I finally relent. “You’re free to do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Her shoulders drop slightly before she catches herself and draws her body up to full height. “Okay, then I’ll go,” she informs me in that bratty tone that has my palm twitching. “Have a good night, Mr. Morgan.”
She brushes past me, and even though I want to yell at her to come back so I can tell her I don’t want her to go, I remain silent, inwardly chastising myself for delivering her to Dorsen on a silver fucking platter.
Lucy
I check my appearance in the mirror one last time before I head downstairs. Sometime between running into Lawson in the lobby and my next appointment at the spa—hello, hot stone massage—Richard asked the front desk to patch a call to my room, leaving a message asking me to dinner at the hotel’s fancy Greek restaurant.
Do I want to go on a date with Richard Dorsen? No.
Am I going just to get under Lawson’s skin? Abso-fucking-lutely I am.
I’ve been damn good all week, and then that fucker goes and pulls the shit he did last night—walking me to my door, calling me a good girl like he doesn’t know it makes my panties flood, and touching me the way he did.
Lawson Morgan is the ultimate definition of the word “whiplash.” The man has no fucking clue what he wants. Well… he does. He wants me. Iknowhe does. But the constant back and forth, the let me get intimate with you only to push you away afterward?
That shit stops now.
Time to put up some fucking boundaries, Lucy.
I primp in the elevator, pushing my hands through my tousled curls to make them look extra mussed, ensuring my red lipstick isn’t out of place or smudged on my teeth, and adjusting the sweetheart neckline of my mini emerald-colored dress to make sure my boobs look incredible.
Lawson won’t see me tonight, but it doesn’t mean Richard won’t brag about it to his friends later.
My date is waiting for me in the lobby. He turns when I call his name, and his crystal blue eyes darken as they inch down the length of my body. I give him a little show, tensing my thighs at his perusal, knowing he’ll notice and think his attention turns me on.
Men like Richard don’t interest me. He’s handsomeand charming, but he’s a damn cocky bastard who thinks I’m a sure thing.
“Wow, you look incredible,” he compliments me as he kisses my cheek.
“Thank you. You’re looking dapper yourself.” He does, and his easy smile tells me he knows it, too.
Richard is as tall as Lawson, built like a model, with a trim figure but not overly muscular. But my breath doesn’t quicken at the thought of what his powerful arms would feel like wrapped around me—of what his strength would feel like in bed as he forces me to my knees to take his length.
No, those are thoughts reserved only for Lawson, apparently.
Stupid hormones won’t listen to my stupid heart.
