Devoured (Devoured, #1)(32)

I roll my eyes, but I can’t deny that he’s affected me by what he’s said and the way he’s looking at me. It should be illegal for any man to have such a magnetic, irresistible effect. “I’m good,” I say.

“For now.”

“No, for—” In twenty years if you ask me who initiated the kiss, I still wouldn’t be able to tell you. It’s that sudden, that breathtaking, and all-consuming. Lucas’s tongue glides across my lips, tracing the outline of them—once, twice, a third time and then once more. I cry out and my backside slumps onto the desk behind me because my legs are trembling so violently. He makes a noise that’s part curse, part moan, and enough to send me over the edge. I splay my hands out on either side of his chest, digging my fingertips into the soft fabric of shirt, into his skin, and pulling him to my body.

His hands are locked behind his head because he’s so determined to make me beg before he uses them on me.

My lips part easily the moment his tongue probes the space between them. I’m wet. Wet and moaning and rubbing my body against his. Yet he still doesn’t move his hands.

Touch me. Touch me. But I can’t bring myself to give into him. Not yet.

When he drags his mouth away from mine, I catch his lower lip gently between my teeth. He winces as my teeth rake over the tender flesh before releasing it. Then a sexy smile creeps across his face. “You a biter, Red?”

He knows I hate it when he calls me Red, just like he knows he’s gotten me too flustered to complain at the moment. “Lucas?” I murmur against the side of his mouth. Suddenly brave, I kiss his upper lip, his strong chin. I draw his lower lip between my own and suck it.

“Mmmhmm?”

I lean back and gaze up into his hazel eyes. “Is it really inescapable—this . . . us?” I challenge, running my hands down the front of his chest. He trembles.

“Always has been.”

Our mouths meet one last time. I can’t fight the temptation to skim the tip of my tongue across my lips, tasting the places he touched me after he pulls away, reluctantly. “Go on and get dressed—no shower, leave your hair down. Don’t even think about f*cking yourself.”

I turn to leave the office and go to my bedroom, but a thought occurs to me. Glancing over my shoulder, I speak again, my voice so low I can barely even hear myself. “Why’d you remember me? Why when you f*cked so many of the others?”

“Because you’re the one I didn’t.”

A few minutes later, when I’m in my bedroom shrugging on my clothes and staring into the bathroom at the bathtub I’ve been forbidden to use, I decide I’m satisfied with his response.

Before I leave the bedroom, I let my hair fall loose.





Jessica’s parents’ bar—a little dive called The Beacon—is filled to capacity when Lucas and I show up. I’m ready to turn around and head back to the Cadillac when the big, red-bearded doorman tells us we’ll have to wait, but Lucas shakes his head. “Get us in now,” he says.

Of course that’s an easy order for him to give. All he’s done since we stepped out of the vehicle is shove his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and look down at the ground so as not to be noticed. He was right when he swore up and down that nobody would recognize him, though. He exudes shyness, the complete opposite of the Lucas I know, and irritatingly similar to myself.

“You should be in movies,” I hiss as I stalk back toward the door with him in tow. “Mr.—”

He stops me with a promise I’m certain he’ll actually keep. “Say it and I swear the second you do I’ll spank your ass with those drumsticks.”

Tossing my hair over one shoulder I gaze back at him, grinning. “Sir.”


“If only you were this sarcastic and infuriatingly confident with everyone you meet,” he points out, as we come back up to the doorman again. Red Beard rolls his eyes and tilts his chin to one side. Mimicking my best Lucas impression, I place my hands on my hips. There’s not enough lighting out here for him to be able to see how my fingers are nervously working the thick fabric of my black skinny jeans.

“I’ve got a personal invitation from”—then, I see Jessica’s small body grinding on the dance floor several feet away, and I take in a deep breath. Screw it—“Jess! Hey, over here!” I yell at the top of my lungs. Several people passing by turn to cock eyebrows at me, but the yelling works. Jessica pushes her way through the throng of people in the bar and pokes her head out the door.

She gives the doorman a pouty look. “You’re not being a dick, are you, Nicky? She’s with me.”

Begrudgingly, Nicky stamps my and Lucas’s hands and moves his giant body aside so we can go in. I almost want to give him a triumphant smile but even a small victory isn’t enough for me to press my luck.

Hundreds of Your Toxic Sequel fans surround us—their hips swaying and their sweaty bodies gliding together. I glance up at Lucas. His eyes are still downcast, but his face says it all. He’s in heaven right now, witnessing all these people who’ve come out to pay homage to his band.

How much cockier can he get?

Jessica finds the only empty table in the whole place and leads us to it. “Here, sit here and I’ll go and get you—”

“I’m good,” I say, and she gives me a skeptical look. “I’m DD.”