Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Luka
I replay the video footage for about the hundredth time, my body fuming at the sight of Scout talking to that prick. The way he stared at her ass as she led him around the corner to the alley to be alone. The way he smiled at her like he knew a secret, flashing her his dimples.
Is it creepy that I hacked into my brother’s security camera to spy on her? Maybe… But my intention was only to make sure she was safe since I knew she’d be stubborn about that fucking ladder.
But then I saw the way her face lit up when she started working, the way she looked like she’d fallen into a trance, and she seemed to come alive right there in front of me.
I’ve never had the opportunity to really watch her paint before and seeing it like a fly on the wall gave me a whole new insight into her.
Of course, then all the spectators decided to show up—no doubt commenting and questioning everything she was doing.
I figured my watching wasn’t really spying at all.
I was simply doing it from the comfort of my own home, with the ability to zoom in and replay the video if I wanted to get a better view.
Which I’d only done to make sure she’d gotten all the paint she accidentally dripped when she bent down to wipe it off the ladder. Again, that was for her safety .
And when her douchebag ex showed up, I felt my fucking stomach drop like I’d been hurled face first down a roller coaster.
My whole body seized up, and my palms began to sweat as I leaned in, trying to read their lips.
Of all things to skimp on, Jett really had to go with a security camera that didn’t have a microphone.
I could kill him for being such a cheap ass.
I expected Scout to shoo him away… or tell him to get lost…
or at least talk to him in front of the other witnesses.
But rather than any of that, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away around the corner, out of view of Jett’s other stupid fucking camera that is even worse than the other one with the picture all pixelated and fuzzy.
I could barely make out Jimmy, but Scout was out of the frame, so I had to try to read his body language to figure out what they were saying.
I know I have no business feeling this possessive over her. Scout’s not my real wife. She’s barely even my friend. But after everything she has told me about him and knowing how selfish of a prick he has to be not to prioritize her pleasure, tells me more than enough about his character.
And he doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her, much less put his hands on her.
My blood is boiling, and I’m seeing red all over again.
So much for my attempt at distracting myself.
After a long day spent tormenting myself with this stupid video footage, it’d taken all my restraint not to drive over there and demand she tell me what that prick wanted.
And why she needed to pull him away privately to tell him she was too busy to talk.
So rather than facing her and having to pretend I wasn’t pissed off, I arranged for a driver to bring her home and left her a note telling her that I’d be upstairs working late.
I just needed some time to regroup. I’m obviously not thinking straight from all this backed-up sexual tension.
It’s certainly caused me to forget all the history between us—the good and the bad.
I catch sight of her walking into the kitchen and feel myself perking up when I see she’s wearing one of my t-shirts and some boxer shorts… Her hair’s wet and freshly brushed like she’s just gotten out of the shower, and I can almost smell her shampoo just from the sight of her.
There’s a satisfied smile on her face as she bends down to dig through the fridge to find something to heat up for dinner—another thing I have to feel guilty about.
I hate that I didn’t feed her tonight. It’s a small thing but knowing how she grew up eating her mom’s shit cooking and seeing how excited she was every time she got to stay late and eat dinner at my house, it’s something I’ve always tried to do for her.
I want her to be able to eat food she actually likes…
not just accept what she’s been given because someone else chose it for her.
I continue watching her, and my cock twitches in my pants when, rather than sitting in a chair at the kitchen island, she instead lifts herself up and sits on the counter.
Her bare legs dangling as she eats a bowl of cereal and chats with L.O.K.I.
, telling him all about the progress she made on the mural.
There’s something about the way she throws her head back, laughing at whatever he just said, that sends a surge of possessive rage tearing through me.
What the fuck could L.O.K.I. have said that was that funny?
I created him for fuck’s sake, and she never laughs like that around me.
At this point, I’m halfway convinced she wants me to see her flirting.
I think back to her pouting the other day while we shopped for supplies, and suddenly it all clicks into place.
Is this because I took her vibrator charger? Is she trying to get back at me by flirting with everyone and provoking me by walking around in my clothes?
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m bolting out of my chair and stomping down the stairs.
I may only have a half-cocked plan based only on sexual frustration and my own imagination, but I don’t care anymore.
I’m tired of tiptoeing around here, pretending like we both don’t want this.
If she wants to flirt with fire, I’ll make sure she understands exactly how hot it burns.
“What’s up?” I call out as I walk into the kitchen, startling Scout so much that she jumps.
Her bowl of cereal goes flying through the air.
Sticky milk and Lucky Charms rain down around us, before the ceramic bowl shatters into a million pieces, the metal spoon clanging somewhere across the kitchen.
“Oh my God…” She places a hand over her chest and takes a deep breath. “You scared me.”
And the first thing I notice is that even though she was startled, she didn’t apologize for making the mess.
For some reason, I take that as a personal victory, which only fuels me to keep going, since I’m clearly doing something that’s getting through to her.
Not caring about the shards of glass or sticky milk covering the floor, I stalk toward her until I’m standing right between her legs and our faces are merely inches apart. “You’re wearing my clothes,” I say. It’s not a question, but it’s implied.
Confusion flashes over her face, and she studies me like she’s trying to make sense of this reaction. She’s still trying to calm down after I startled her, but the heat in her eyes tells me that’s not the only reason for her labored breathing.
“My pajamas are in the washing machine, and I didn’t figure you would mind if I borrowed an old t-shirt to sleep in.” Her words trail off when my hands move to cup her thighs, and I watch her throat work as she nervously swallows a gulp.
I’m filled with a small ping of satisfaction when I notice her thighs press together. My gaze drops to the swell of her chest, where her nipples strain against her shirt. And when I hear her gasp, I can’t help the smirk that spreads across my face.
“You look good in my clothes… especially this.” I tug at the hem of the plain white t-shirt. “Makes it easier to see your nipples.”
“Luka…” Her voice comes out breathy, and I love hearing my name on her lips.
“Yes?” My fingers caress the outside of her thigh before moving around to her ass.
“What are you doing?” Her body goes completely still, but she doesn’t push me away.
My hands trail along her hips now, loving the way she looks at me, her eyelids starting to hood. I can see that she’s already on her way to that floaty, dream-like space, just waiting for me to fully take control so she can hand over the reins to her busy mind. “How was your day?”
Her eyelids flutter open, and she blinks before looking down at her hands. “Oh, uh, it was good. I was able to get most of the outline done thanks to you doing the prep work.” She looks up and meets my eyes. “Thanks again for that, by the way.”
My fingers dip beneath the hem of her t-shirt as I drag them along her lower back, my large palms nearly swallowing her narrow waist. Images of flipping her onto the bed and taking her exactly how I want flash through my mind, sending another surge of heat straight to my already rock-hard cock.
“You’re welcome. I just… wanted to take care of you.
” My hand slides up, deliberately slow, brushing the bare space where her bra should be.
She shudders beneath my touch, breath catching—and yet, she still doesn’t pull away.
“So, did you have an audience or anything? I can’t imagine you weren’t surrounded by nosy neighbors full of questions…
” I hold my breath when I see her tense.
Then she shakes her head and shrugs. “Yeah, but I tuned them out, and after a while, they eventually got bored and left.”
“Uh huh… Anything else exciting happen?” I ask as my hands move further around her back, my fingertips barely grazing her ribcage and the slight swell of the side of her breast.
Her eyelids flutter closed as she sucks in a hiss before slowly shaking her head. “Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. It was a long day, but it felt good to work with my hands.”
My hands pause their perusal, and she opens her eyes as if trying to figure out why I stopped.
I narrow my eyes, willing her to tell me the truth as the jealous animal inside of me threatens to rear its ugly head once more.
“So, nothing out of the ordinary happened today?” I lift her chin to meet my eyes.
She swallows another gulp, but this time she doesn’t look away when she says, “No… Why? Did you hear something?”