Consumed(4)

“You look stunned.”

What did he expect after everything that’s happened between us just in the last several hours? “I doubt that’ll go away any time soon.”

A new emotion passes over his features—one that makes me uncomfortable—and I look away. Beneath the pale glow of moonlight, there’s nothing but mountains and lush trees as far as I can see. The only house around is the one we’re parked in front of, a massive three-story cabin—twice as large as my grandmother’s place in Nashville—with floor to ceiling windows on the second level.

“We’re still in Tennessee?” I ask.

“Gatlinburg. I needed you all to myself, Si. I needed these two days without interruption, to win you back and make-up for my f*ck-ups the right way.”

“All to yourself, huh?”

A few locks of messy, dark hair fall over his hazel eyes when he nods. “The way I should have done months ago.” Spinning me around so that I’m by his side, he runs his palm down the inside of my arm, lacing our fingertips together.

I hold on to him tightly, not wanting him to release my hand, to release me.





While Lucas takes our luggage out of his car, I explore the cabin’s main floor. Other than the ceiling-height stone fireplace in the center of the living room, the house has none of the usual rustic charm. From the black sectional couch that surrounds the fireplace, to the equally dark furnishings, and even to the gleaming black countertops in the kitchen, something moody and sexy pulsates through the atmosphere.

It’s definitely familiar.

I rest my back against the stainless steel refrigerator, my eyes scanning the open, state-of-the-art kitchen.

Then it hits me: this house reminds me of Lucas’s place in Los Angeles. I’ve only been there once, more than two years ago when he took me there for what had been a catastrophe of a date, but it’s impossible to forget.

I return to the living room but stop short as the front door closes. Running my fingertips across the blindfold still hanging around my neck, I look at Lucas, who’s standing in the foyer. His back is turned to me, but even under the dim lights, I’m able to admire him—too-long, too-messy dark hair; olive skin and muscles that any sane person would envy; and the intricate tattoos that cover more of his body than not.

Simply put, Lucas Wolfe is beautiful

The sound of me pushing my hands into the pockets of my shorts catches his attention. He turns his face slightly, giving me a clear view of his profile. “You hungry?”

“No.” I step in his direction. “This place is absolutely amazing.” Two more steps closer, each one wider, each one making the pit of my belly clench a little more. “I’m guessing it belongs to you.”

He turns all the way around just as I step into the foyer. I’m struck by the soft look in his hazel eyes. Lucas Wolfe has never been the type to do emotions—well, none except for anger, disinterest, and lust. But tonight?

Tonight he’s mind-f*cked me.

“It’s for you,” he says.

“What?”

He inches closer to me. “This house. I bought it for you. I—“ He clears his throat and rubs the palm of his hand over the gorgeous angles of his face. “I lost my last vacation house in a bet. So this is for us, Sienna.”

For us.

Those words catch me off guard—wrap around my heart and give it a firm squeeze—but he doesn’t seem to notice because he turns his attention to the alarm system on the wall by the front door.

Just a day ago, if someone had asked whether or not I’d ever see Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe again, I would’ve laughed off the question. Lucas and I were through; he hadn’t wanted me—at least not enough to make us work—and besides, I had no place in a rock star’s world.

Lucas had sent me away just when I realized that I had fallen in love with him.

Now, standing inside of a house that he says is meant for us, I decide it’s a good thing nobody has ever asked me about the future of Lucas Wolfe and myself. My answer would’ve been wrong.

The alarm beeps twice. His thick eyebrows knit together. “You okay, Si?” he asks. I nod, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Because, you’ve got that f*cking look.”

“What look?”

The soles of his black Converse squeak on the hardwood as he takes two long strides to reach me. I’m ridiculously tall for a woman—five foot ten— but he’s several inches taller than me. I have to I tilt my head far back to stare up at his face.