Friction(4)

Two





Jace Exley





I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.

Lucy Williams.

No, Lucy Duncan.

She’s married now. It was bound to happen. Even with her smartass mouth and know-it-all attitude, she was always a stunner, but goddamn, the years have been good to her. I let my eyes travel over her body, slowly, because I don’t give a fuck if she notices.

I start at her legs.

Whenever she used to ride my ass—she was good at that, good at pissing me off—I imagined wrapping them around my waist and riding her. Those legs are longer than I remember, leading up to full hips that make my fingers twitch to grasp them and a tiny waist I’d like to clutch too. Her tits are still perky, perfect, but she’s not hiding them under one of those baggy ass sweaters she was so fond of. That yellow dress leaves little to my imagination, and her breasts strain against the fabric with silky black hair falling over them.

I have a thing for long hair—the more there is, the better because I like having something to hold on to—and between that and her hips, Lucy Williams-fucking-Duncan has plenty to grip.

It’s a shame another man’s digging his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back until her long lashes flutter over round hazel eyes. Making her lips part just enough for her to say, “More,” before he ruins that sweet pink gloss of hers with his tongue and cock.

Clearing my throat, I lower my fingers from my mouth, gesturing them to the empty seat across from mine. “Sit down,” I repeat in a voice that’s gone rough from the images in my head.

“Yes … okay.”

Her legs are wobbly as she perches her ass on the edge of the chair in front of my desk. I want her to look at me, want to see her skin light up beneath my attention, but she doesn’t. She traces her gaze over the monogrammed letters—LJD—on the edge of her leather folder like it’s the first time she’s ever seen her own initials.

That’s fine with me. I’ll make her look up sooner or later.

"It's been a long time." She sucks in her flushed cheeks at the mockery lacing my tone. I wonder if she remembers the last time we saw each other. She must because she just blinks and sways slightly in her seat. “You look … well.”

Hell, she looks better than well. With legs that go on for days and tits that were made to touch, she’s the sexiest thing that’s ever stepped into this building. Breathing her in is torture because she smells like warmth. Warmth, vanilla, and a hard, noisy fuck.

I bet she’d taste just as good as her scent.

My cock twitches at the thought, and I groan at the effect the presence of this woman has on my little brain. I don’t have a hard time getting soft curves and sweet scents into my bed—well, their bed because I don’t like to take women back to my place, don’t like the sense of attachment it gives them—but I have rules. I don’t do married women. I never have, and it’s not a trend I plan to pursue. That was my father’s MO, and although I never formally met him, I decided long ago that his drive for success is the only inherited trait I want from the git.

I gaze across the desk at Lucy, wondering when she’ll speak. “Ms. Williams?”

Startling at the sound of my voice, she darts her eyes from side to side. I bet she’s trying to come up with something witty. She was so quick to run her mouth in school I’m disappointed it’s taking her so long to get on with it. “Thanks,” she says carefully. “It's good to see you again Jace—I apologize—Mr. Exley."

Fuck me running, she’s lost that touch of smart aleck that made her so aggravatingly endearing.

“You had it right the first time.” Closing my laptop, I shift around in my chair, and the chuckle I release bows her tight body forward. "There’s no need to call me Mr. Exley.”

“You’re interviewing me,” she whispers. “Of course I should call you that.”

I can’t deny that it’s deeply satisfying to see her lips wrap around those words since she’s the last person I ever expected to come to me for a job. I’d be a fool not to get some pleasure out of this. The last time she saw me, she’d all but written me off as “Most Likely to Knock Up Everything in Sight Between Prison Stints.”

Suppressing the harsh smile the memory draws from me, I shrug. “I’d prefer Jace. I can't be that much older than you. A year or so—"

"Two. I skipped a grade and you failed a year before you …” Trailing off when her eyes connect with mine, she flinches at how superior she just sounded. She squeezes her glossy lips together and nervously tucks her hair behind her ears. "I could be wrong, though. About the age thing.”

"I doubt you are." I fold my hands over the copy of her resume on my desk. She zeroes in on the tattoos on my fingers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. I’ve thought about doing that a time or two—sucking on her lip. Her mouth always drove me insane and kissing it until she was speechless seemed like the only way to deal with her.

"Like I told you, I'd rather you call me Jace. After all, we were schoolmates and you’re interviewing for a job at my company. It’s what I want from you, understand?"

My voice breaks the spell my fingers have over her. She snaps her hazel eyes to mine. "Sure ... Jace."