Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A t 12:03 a.m. Joel heard his front door click unlocked. He’d stayed at Bowie’s for an hour, had two drinks, brooded the entire time, then headed back upstairs. Work had always been his best distraction, so he opened his laptop, put his glasses back on, and made a few more million.
And that was where he was when Lucy sauntered into the living room.
“Fuck me.” The words flew from his mouth as he took her in over the frame of his glasses.
She halted abruptly, the surprise on her face mirroring the shock exploding through his chest. Maybe it was the late hour, or the tension headache building behind his eyes, or the sheer relief of finally seeing her again, but the way she looked—cheeks glowing, hair a wild mass around her shoulders, plump lips parted enticingly and painted a glossy red to match her dress—had his heart caving inward.
The red satin hugged her curves like a second skin, swooping low at her breasts, and riding high on her thighs. The only thing that appeared to be keeping it on her fucking stunning body were two thin straps over the shoulders.
“Oh,” she said breathily, as she came toward him. The wobble in her strut told him she’d either had a bit too much to drink or hadn’t walked in heels in a while. Knowing Lucy, it was probably both. “I didn’t expect you to wait up.”
“I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”
“Well, the car you sent to pick us up made sure of that.” Her purse strap slipped off her shoulder, and she teetered again when she moved to set it on the corner of his desk. “Thank you for that. Vanessa didn’t want to take an Uber.”
When she wobbled again, he jumped up and caught her elbow before she toppled. Her body swayed against his, and her scent hit him like a two-by-four traveling directly to his dick. He clenched his jaw as he struggled to regain some dominion over himself and the situation. Everything about this woman threatened the one thing he’d always counted on—his control. He’d lost it with her time and time again. He couldn’t afford to do it now.
“Oh no, no, no, no, no. Not fair. I’m supposed to be mad at you.” She tugged her arm out of his hold. “You can’t use your sexy professor glasses and jaw clench on me like that. I’ve no armor against them, and you know it, especially not after a few martinis.”
The bitterness in her tone ignited his own memories of Vegas and everything after. It all passed silently between them like ammunition.
He bent to bring his gaze level with hers, and pinned her with a stare, daring her to read his recollection of past events in his eyes. “From where I’m standing, Luciana. You’re not the one who needs a defense.”
To his surprise, her expression softened, and she let out a long sigh. It brushed his lips like a curse. “See, Joel, it’s even the way you say things. You can’t help it; it’s the way you are. Everything about you screams Have sex with me. I promise it’ll be the best you’ve ever had .”
She swayed toward him and slapped her hand on his chest, the softness morphing into an instant irritation. But he could keep up with her vacillating temperament. He felt the same at the moment. Everything all at once, all the time.
“And then it freaking is! It’s the best sex. And I remember it all too well. Every touch, every sensation. It’s like an ache I can’t ease, an itch I can’t reach.” She inhaled a breath and gazed up at him, eyes widening, pupils dilating.
He watched the idea bloom in her mind. Oh fuck.
“Can you reach it, Joel?” She leaned toward him, tipping her chin up. Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “Or are you a better man these days? Too noble to have a little temporary fling.” She drew back sharply, gasping like she couldn’t believe she’d just used her outside voice.
But he could. Pain lanced his chest and he welcomed it, because finally, finally, she was admitting what he always knew she believed about him—that he’d abandoned her when she’d needed him most. And she’d never forgiven him.
“I’m sor—” Her cheeks flushed and her glossy lips quivered as she tried to step out of his reach.
He grabbed her wrist, preventing her retreat. “You’re angry.” He waited until her gaze shifted away from his, her sign of acquiescence. Then he jerked her wrist up, so her ring finger sat front and center between them, the diamond he’d given her blinding. “But you’re still wearing this.”
Her eyes flashed with resentment, the previous regret evaporating.
“And as long as you’re wearing it, Luciana, I will send cars to pick you up. I will wait until you get home. I will make sure your coffee is hot every morning. I will move heaven and earth,” he growled, his own misery manifesting. “But I won’t fuck you. Not until you’re not angry anymore. And not until you understand.”
Lucy forcefully yanked her hand out of his and took a step back. This time, he let her go. He’d said what he needed to say.
“There are a lot of reasons we shouldn’t have sex, Joel.”
“There are.”
“We’ve barely spoken in four years.”
“For one thing.”
“And we haven’t talked about…” She glanced away. “Anything.”
“We will,” he promised.
“And this is all a sham.” She fluttered her hand between them.
“For now.” If she caught his mumbled words, she didn’t show it.
“But I wasn’t expecting to come home to you and your stupid sexy glasses, because you’ve been gone for three days straight.”
That’s what this really was about. She was angry at him for leaving—because he’d left before, and their world had upended. He should tell her why, tell her where he’d been and what he’d been doing. But that might also make it worse.
“You know,” she said, eyeing him suggestively. “Angry sex is the best sex.”
Christ, his fingertips were tingling. He was so ready to rip the red excuse for a dress off her body. He’d take her up against the wall, and make it so good for her. His body was at full attention, his cock screaming at him to do as she was asking. “We’ve never had angry sex, Luciana. ”
When the anger came, there’d been no sex at all. Only silence.
Lucy leaned in, red lips pouting. “There’s always a first time.”
There was absolutely no way he could continue this conversation, not when she was eating him alive. A one-eighty was required. “How about a shower?”
“Together?”
“No, Lucy. Just you. Alone.”
Laughter rolled out of her completely without humor, and when she advanced, every muscle in his body tensed. “You want me to take a shower all by myself, Joel?” she purred as she edged closer, brushing her body to his, leaning in as her lips touched his jawline. “Will you be out here thinking of me under the steaming water? Naked and wet.”
If she was trying to prove a point, she’d made it when she’d first entered the apartment. He wanted her. He’d never stopped.
“Luciana,” he groaned. She was so close the scent of her made his mouth water.
“Mmm,” she moaned. “I love when you say my name like that. Like I’m a sin that you want to commit.” She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly shiny and vulnerable, the mask falling off. “Do you remember how it was, Joel? Between us?”
He caught her by the shoulders and dragged himself away. His control had been frayed since she walked back into his life, and now it was snapping. “You know I do. I remember every fucking second in vivid detail. The minute I left, I wanted to come back. But it’s not about me, it’s you. It’s always been you, Lucy.” He held her gaze prisoner until he was sure the words had absorbed into every brain cell. “ And that’s why you’re going to go take a long shower before you tuck yourself into bed.”
Of all the reactions he expected from her, the livid anger flashing through her eyes was not one of them.
“Fine, Joel Morgan. You sit out here like a good boy and suffer your blue balls for the sake of your pride. I’ll be in my room.”
With a decisive twirl away from him, she sashayed down the hall toward her bedroom like she was on a mission.