Chapter 11
LUCY
Iregretted my decision the second Sam followed me into his room and closed the door.
The room was large, beautiful, elaborate in a Louis XV sort of way, and I hated everything about it.
It reminded me of my parents’ house. When I was young, I hadn’t been allowed to sit on any of the surfaces except for a “child’s couch,” in case I got sweaty or sticky stains on any of the expensive furniture.
That thought swept away any anticipation I had over finally having sex.
Sam watched me. “You know, Lacy, you don’t have to do this.”
I shook my head, smiling and approaching him. “I want to.”
Reaching up, I pulled his head down to mine, kissing him open mouthed and eager, because I was going to act like I wanted him until I actually did. With a groan, he kissed me back, pushing me toward the bed as he slid the straps of my dress over my shoulders and tugged it down my body.
Pausing, he looked at my breasts in the red lace bra and shook his head.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured. Bending down, he kissed my neck.
Nothing.
My clavicle.
Still nothing.
Making his way down to my breasts, I steeled myself for feeling more of nothing.
Boys had done similar things to me before.
I’d even let one get to second base in the past, and I had a feeling this was going to suck as much as that had.
Also, I was worried the sex itself was going to hurt.
Fortunately, I always came prepared. I had lube and condoms, and hopefully the combo would—
The door burst open with a loud crack and bang. And then Sam was being dragged away from me. Someone threw him across the room. He slammed into the wall and fell with a thud.
My eyes went wide.
Was I dreaming?
Because Blake stood in front of me, chest heaving, all hulked out with his veins popping and right hand wrapped in gauze, his green eyes burning with rage.
“I’ll deal with you in a moment, troublemaker,” he promised me, then turned and stalked over to Sam groaning on the floor.
At least he was alive.
Pulling up the straps of my dress to cover myself, I rushed forward to protect him.
“Blake, what the hell are you doing?” I screamed, trying to block him.
He didn’t seem to care. Like I weighed no more than a feather, he lifted me with his unbandaged hand and deposited me behind him before he bent down and placed a shoe on Sam’s neck.
“You touch her?” he growled.
Sam gasped.
“Tell me.” Blake removed his foot. “Did. You. Touch. Her?”
“Blake, stop.” I tried to drag him away by his arm, but I was no match for his strength—or anger.
“Yes, but I didn’t know she was with someone.”
“She’s a kid.”
“No, I’m not,” I said indignantly, forgetting the situation we were in for a moment. “I’m eighteen, you asshole.”
“What, you her dad or something?” Sam spat, face mottled.
Blake replaced his foot on his neck. “Nowhere near it. But she’s mine, and I’m this close to killing you.”
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
The word echoed in my head like a gunshot pinging around a fun house.
What did he mean by mine? And god, why did it make me feel so good? The complete nothing I’d felt earlier was replaced with butterflies.
“I swear to god, I will call the cops,” I said.
“Did he hurt you?” Blake asked.
“No.”
“Fine.” He removed his foot from Sam’s throat. “Get the fuck out of here, and if you ever come near her again, I will kill you. Mark my words. Oh, and don’t you fucking dare call the police or send security up here. The room is ours for the night.”
Sam took him for his word, because he scuttled backward, stood on shaky legs, and without a look at me, ran out of the open door.
Leaving me alone with a version of my guardian I’d never seen before.
Part of me was still stuck on mine and all its implications as it swelled through my chest and gave me foolish hope.
But Blake was probably just feeling stupidly fatherly.
What are you, her dad or something?
Nowhere near it.
The other part of me was livid. How dare he follow me here and interrupt my sex plans?!
Blake turned to me. “Now it’s your turn. What the fuck were you thinking?”
Oh, no.
No.
“What the hell were you doing? You could’ve killed him! And what did you do to your hand?”
I expected regret to flash in Blake’s eyes, but there was nothing. He didn’t even bother to answer my questions as he advanced on me.
“He deserved worse,” Blake said.
“For what? Seducing a willing, of age partner? You don’t own me, Blake Samson. I’m eighteen now, you aren’t even really my guardian anymore.”
There. I’d said it. Finally.
This time, something did flash in his eyes.
“Willing?” he asked slowly. Reaching behind him, he shut the door, ignoring that there was a crack in the wood where he’d—what, bashed it in?
“Yes,” I swallowed. “Willing.”
Liar.
“Bullshit,” he said. “You didn’t want him.”
He stalked toward me, like a predator scenting its prey and playing with it.
“What do you mean?” I asked, raising my chin to hide how nervous—and excited—his pursuit was making me.
This time, a small, knowing smile played over Blake’s face as he reached me and lifted a piece of my hair between his unbandaged fingers, stroking it. I couldn’t even feel his touch, but the way my whole body quaked, I may as well have.
“You didn’t want him,” he repeated slowly. Confidently. “You just wanted to forget about how much you want me. Or you wanted my attention. Well, troublemaker. I’m here now, and you have it.” The smile on his face disappeared. “Now, get on the goddamn bed.”