Devoured: A Novel(9)

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Wolfe?” I demand before he can completely spin around to face me. For a moment, he looks as shocked as Kylie to see me. His momentary silence gives me a chance to appreciate how good he looks in light blue wash jeans and a dark blue burnout t-shirt, how his eyes seem more green than brown today, how his muscles are so completely obvious even under the loose shirt.

I stop ogling a couple seconds after he regains his composure, granting me that smile that’s likely dropped panties across the country. “You’re still here,” he says. His voice is a mixture of two things—surprise and relief—and I’m not sure I like either one.

“Why would I leave?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Maybe because the judge said this place is—”

“It’s not yet. So, like I said, what do you think you’re doing out here?” I ask, squinting up at him. I squeeze the bridge of my nose as hard as possible without doing myself harm.

Lucas opens his mouth as if he wants to say something but one of the contractors interrupts him.

“Mr. Wolfe, we have a limited amount of time because of other appointments this afternoon. . .” the contractor begins, but Lucas shoots him a dark look. Holy hell, even grown, 250 pound men lose their confidence around this guy.

Lucas nods to Kylie. “Finish up with these guys. I have . . . shit to take care of.”

Kylie types a few additional notes into her tablet and then ushers the two men off, talking up plans of renovations and additions and completely gutting Gram’s house. She gives me an apologetic smile as she passes me, probably because she knows her boss and I are about to get into it, and the odds are out of my favor. How the hell can someone so pleasant work for someone so . . . Lucas?

What a stupid question to ask yourself, Jensen, I think. He’s gorgeous and talented, and you came all over his bed without even getting down to the actual deed.

Those type of thoughts—yeah, they’re the ones that get me flustered and in trouble. “So I’m shit?” I blurt out.

“You know exactly what I meant.”

“You know you have some jumbo balls coming out here today. God, don’t you have a soul? I don’t care if you’re the legal owner now or not—if my grandmother had heard you talking about tearing down walls and demolishing she would have been devastated.” When he crosses his arms over his chest, I repeat the gesture, trying to ignore the dizzying feeling that he’s slowly undressing me with his hazel eyes.

It’s the same way he looked when we first met a couple years ago, on the set of one of his band’s music videos. To this day, “All Over You” is my favorite Your Toxic Sequel song. Every time I listen to it, hear Lucas rasping taboo promises, I think of how his eyes drunk me in on that video shoot.

“You’re cherry red. And your nipples are hard,” he says. My already crossed arms automatically hug myself tighter. He chuckles then whispers, “Hearing about the stripper pole in the living room turned you on, huh?”

I gasp, because for some messed-up reason, I can’t help picturing svelte women in G-strings grinding their asses against my grandmother’s furniture. It’s a ridiculous thought—even if he did install a pole, it’s not like Gram’s belongings would still be there. I’m still furious. “Are you f*cking with me?”

Before I realize what’s happening, he moves forward, pulling my arms away from their protective position over my body and pressing me up against the wooden door behind me. His scent—a mixture of clean linen and sweat—fill my nostrils, makes all of my senses blur. He’s close. So close I can feel the fabric of his jeans scratching my bare legs and his lips brushing my right temple. My breath is ragged and to my surprise, so is his.

“Do you really think I’m that classless to put a pole in my living room?” When he tilts my face up and I glare darkly at him, he grins. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

“Why couldn’t this have waited until after all this was over? Lucas, my grandmother is almost eighty. If something had happened to her, if you had gotten her upset . . .” I inhale deeply, until my lungs are about to explode, and then exhale. Hesitantly, he lifts his hand up and runs it along my cheek. A shudder that’s both agonizing and warm all at once ripples through my body. I squeeze my eyes together. Start a slow, mental count to ten.

My head is spinning so violently that I only make it to six.