Page 26 of Troublemaker
LUCY
“What?!” I gaped at him.
“One of these days, you’re going to listen to me when I tell you to do something,” he muttered. And then for the second time that day, I was being lifted into his arms and carried—this time face to face.
His expression was stern. More than stern. His bones were more prominent, his mouth drawn tight, like it was taking effort to remain stoic. But the forest of his green eyes were lit with fire.
“I never listen to what anyone tells me to do,” I said automatically.
In response, he dropped me on the bed. I bounced.
“Blake, what are you—what is…” my heart was racing so fast, I was sure it would burst at any moment.
I pinched myself.
He was watching.
“You’re not dreaming,” he said. “This is real.”
“Then you better tell me what the hell is happening,” I said honestly. “Because I’m losing my mind here. This is like, a total 180 from every other interaction we’ve had…”
“No, it’s not,” he said. “Lucy…” he rubbed his face with his bandaged hand like he’d forgotten it was there. “You don’t know what you do to me. Everything about you: your hair, your body, your face, your attitude…I’ve tried to resist your siren song for so long, but I can’t anymore. The thought of you giving that untouched cunt to someone else…” he shook his head like a dog shaking off water and growled again, the sound making my thighs clench.
Oh god.
Oh god.
Oh—
“…I don’t care if it makes me irresponsible, bad, is going to send me to hell. If you’re so determined to get rid of your virginity, then I’ll gladly take it from you.”
“Oh,” I gasped. He’d knocked the breath right out of me with that speech.
“Oh?”
He prowled toward the bed, kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket as he went. Part of me, most of me, couldn’t believe it. It was everything I’d ever wanted.
But when he got on the bed and kneeled above me, beginning to unbutton the top of his black shirt, the gauze on his bandage beginning to come undone, another part of me woke up.
Yeah, he was all I’d ever wanted.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t being a complete asshole and I wasn’tpissed.
“You don’t think this is presumptuous at all?” I said from the bed, looking up at him and trying to ignore the skin that was being revealed to me, skin I’d never seen before. “Maybe I wanted Sam. Maybe I don’t want you. You don’t get to follow me—how did you even find me?”
He didn’t answer but kept watching me, stilling his hands.
“Whatever,” I waved that away. “You don’t get to follow me, ruin my plans, and force yourself into my life this way. You don’t get to be a complete jackass and”—damn, I was about to be grossly vulnerable—“hurt my feelings and reject me and then sweep in like you belong here.”
“You’re right,” he said simply. “I’m sorry. I was a jackass.”
Yeah, he had been, but even though that simple apology deflated my sails a bit, it didn’t diminish all my righteous fury.
“You were. Multiple times. You made me feel stupid and lonely and worthless, and I’m sick of it. And now you’re cave-manning your way in here and claiming me?—”
“You’re right,” he repeated, interrupting me, and then he was grabbing my hips, making my heart beat even faster, and lifting me up so I was also kneeling. “I am claiming you, and I am a jackass, and that doesn't matter, because you know what I realized tonight, Lucy?"
“What?" I hated how my voice trembled, but what was I supposed to do when his hands were stroking over the satin covering the dimples in my hips?
