Cheater (Curious Liaisons #1)(73)

“Oh?” He started kissing my neck. I shivered. “Are you going to share this perfect story or just keep it on lockdown and then surprise the shit out of me? Careful how you answer—I’m already old, remember? Surprises age people, Avery Bug.”

“You’re a male dancer, like Carl. On the weekends you shake your ass to make more cash—and then you donate said cash to the children because you, Lucas Thorn”—I imitated his voice the way every female imitated his voice—“are a giver.”

He glared at me.

“Or”—I held up one hand—“we tell them a partial truth.”

“I’m listening.”

“Great, could you perchance not kiss me while listening though because it makes me stumble over my words, and I hate feeding your ego. Tonight, I saw you preening at yourself in the mirror, so stop that.”

He laughed against my neck.

And I briefly wondered if I would survive the day Lucas Thorn walked out of my life.

Again.





Chapter Thirty-Seven


LUCAS

Work had been hell, probably because I spent most of my workday trying not to stare at Avery and imagine her naked.

Time passed too fast, meaning I blinked and it was Saturday, the day of the party. We’d stayed up most of the two nights before. I couldn’t keep my hands off her, and I had this urgency to keep marking her—making her mine before we faced everyone.

Which in turn caused us to run late since she’d stayed over at my apartment again and said she had to go home and change into something presentable. I took a few deep breaths while parked out in front of Avery’s building and drummed my fingers against the console while soft music floated through the car.

I adjusted my tie a dozen times.

And nearly choked myself to death at least six of those times.

“Sorry.” The passenger door opened, and in a flurry of mouthwatering perfume, Avery hopped into the car. “I couldn’t find my heels, and then I realized my shoes didn’t match and—”

I wasn’t aware I was swearing out loud, until she stopped talking and my mouth kept moving.

“Are you okay?” Her expression was one of concern.

“You look incredible.” I breathed out a tense sigh. “That dress.” I shook my head, mouth completely dry. “It’s really . . . tight.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tight as in, maybe stop bonding so much with your panda spirit animal, or tight as in, wow, it fits you like a glove—carry on and here’s a donut for your trouble?”

“The latter.” I leaned across the console and captured her lips in mine. Relief washed through me when she threaded her hands through my hair and whispered my name. “I missed you.”

“I was literally gone for eight minutes, maybe nine.”

“The day you get ready in eight minutes, I’ll run for president.”

“Vote Thorn!” She nuzzled my neck and then sucked on my earlobe. “But seriously, we need to go. We’re already late and I’m sweating.”

“You and me both,” I grumbled, putting the car into drive and inching into downtown traffic. “Though it’s more of a cold sweat.”

“That sounds lovely, Thorn. Tell me more about this ‘cold sweat.’”

I studied her lithe body out of the corner of my eye and tried to remind myself of all the reasons we were actually going through with this.

“I have an idea.” I pulled the car onto the freeway and turned down the music. “What if, instead of telling everybody a story, we just tell them it’s none of their damn business?”

Avery’s eyes twinkled, and her lips spread into a beautiful smile. “Thorn, I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

“Since I’m never going to make it a habit to compliment you, I’d just take what I can get if I were you. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

I glowered and then barked out a laugh. “Fine.”

She reached for my hand.

And the entire thing felt normal.

If normal was taking one giant step backward into a past I’d rather forget—and facing every single person I’d hurt by not admitting my feelings earlier for the girl sitting next to me.

Like when they originally started happening.

Which was long before the day of the rehearsal dinner.

Or in a vain attempt to jump into her bed because I was so damn miserable with my choice to marry her sister.

Unfortunately, the car ride didn’t take long, which meant that we were in front of my childhood home sooner rather than later.

I turned off the ignition.

Avery let go of my hand.

“It’s one traumatic night with our families,” she said, more to herself than me. “And then we carry on with our lives and try not to figure out whatever this is between us, alright?”

“Oh, so we’re not trying to figure this out?” I was surprised she wasn’t overanalyzing every little thing or asking to see my phone, or imploding over the fact that never once had I said we were exclusive.

“Nope.” Her hands trembled in her lap. “If I think past today, I get freaked out, not because I’m afraid of commitment.”