EMERSON
Before the gala, I’d wondered if any of these hoity-toity millionaires had ever eaten food truck food in their lives. If they had the slightest clue the treat they were in for. Or if they’d thumb their noses at the delicacies we’d provided, because they were superior assholes.
But as I wove my way in and around the tables in our makeshift ballroom, I got my answer. People were raving. Stuck-up people in fancy gowns. Some of the truck owners even told us they’d already been hired for private parties and corporate events.
Dinner was an unparalleled success!
I only had enough time to catch a quick bite with my family. They’d somehow managed to cram themselves into one of the round tables so they could all sit together. Everyone but Seth. No one had seen him since he and Aster had taken off together.
I would have shuddered at the thought of them banging one out in some coatroom, except I seriously doubted uptight Aster would let anyone—even my brother, who “made her tingle”—bang her on anything other than a bed of white rose petals or a private yacht made of solid gold.
Lucas acted like my parents and brothers flying in for the event was a big deal, but I guess that’s because he hadn’t been raised in the kind of family I had been. Sure, we fought like hellcats, but we were each other’s biggest cheerleaders too.
I was glad they’d come, my mom especially. I’d spent days thinking about our lunch, about the things my mom had told me, and I’d had my own light bulb moment—what happened between her and my dad was none of my business. I guess that wasn’t exactly a groundbreaking conclusion, the realization that my parents were entitled to their own lives. Their privacy. My mom had fucked up and my dad reacted like a jerk. But in the end, they loved each other and they’d worked through it.
It was just like Seth said: things weren’t always what they seemed.
I took the seat next to my mom, to let her know the past was the past. If my dad could forgive her, then surely so could I.
As far as Bitsy . . . I mean, what could I even say about Bitsy? After all the shade I’d thrown her way all these years, she’d turned out to be the real hero in this story. Not only had she kept my mom’s secret, but she’d put up with my special brand of crazy. And even after everything she’d been through, she’d swooped in to save the gala by delivering the motherlode in loot for our auction.
Seriously, if we didn’t end up netting over a hundred grand tonight, I’d eat one of my Jimmy Choos.
The only weird part of dinner with my family was Lucas.
I was still pissed after the whole run-in with Raph, who, like Bitsy, was doing us a huge solid with his contribution. I was convinced that half the people here had come just to listen to him—at least the under-thirty crowd.
And instead of thanking the dude, Lucas had gone full caveman, acting like he’d caught his cousin sticking his tongue down my throat rather than giving me a harmless side hug.
Now . . . here was Lucas, sitting across the table from me, wrenched between Drew and Brock, staring at me like he’d banged his head extra hard on something.
You okay? I mouthed, when he just kept watching me, all dopey like. He just nodded, which I guess I was supposed to take as he was, fine that is. But I wasn’t convinced. It was all that staring.
Staring at me while I ate. Staring while I talked. He even stared as I tried to discreetly pick my teeth . . . at the exact moment I didn’t want anyone looking. And the entire time, we were being serenaded by Raph’s music, which was now being played on a track, so Raph could grab a bite too.
“Do you mind?” I didn’t mouth it this time.
He glanced away, but only for a second.
Finally, I’d had enough. I shoved my chair back and went around to where my brothers were elbowing him, bumping him playfully and squishing him between them. Lucas barely seemed to notice. He was too busy staring at me.
I grabbed his arm and hauled him away from the table.
When we were far enough away I was sure no one could hear us, I tore into him. “What the hell? First, you act like a possessive jackass, practically assaulting our DJ. And now . . . ,” I threw my hands in the air, “you’re acting like you never laid eyes on a girl before. Do I need to call security and have you escorted out?”
His dopey exterior cracked. “You have security?”
I wasn’t in the mood for this. “You don’t want to test me,” I answered sharply. “You saw those boys the other day. All I have to do is tell ’em you’re giving me the creeps. They’d love nothing more than to haul you outta here.”
The corners of his dark eyes crinkled. “Fine,” he conceded. “I give. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Why did he have to be so damned handsome when he smiled?
“Dance with me.” The low rumble of his request took me off guard, maybe because I hadn’t even noticed that the inner tables had already been moved aside and people were now moving to the music. Maybe because his request triggered a chain reaction that sent sparks shooting throughout my entire body.
“I can’t . . . I have . . . I need to . . . the live auction is starting soon.”
“It can wait.” I opened my mouth to say no again, but Lucas was already drawing me toward the interior, and before I could stop him, I was in his arms.
We’d danced before, at The Dunes, and at a couple of bars we’d been to. But this was different.
Lucas was . . . different.
The song was slow, and his hand was at my waist, pulling me against him. Not like when we were alone . . . behind the privacy of locked doors, when we were desperate for each other. This was a different kind of pressure. Constant, steady, holding me in time with him.
And it was hot.
I leaned into it, letting him lead me. He was a good dancer, confident. I inhaled deeply, finally admitting, “You smell good.”
“Thanks. I call it ‘soap.’” The boom of his voice against my ear made me dizzy. I’d missed this. Being this close to him. His fingers splayed, sent those sparks firing straight to my core.
I’d definitely have to ditch the panties.
“You should wear it more often,” I told him.
“Anything you want.”
I sighed, “You can’t say things like that. I thought we were past all that.”
Leaning back, he cocked his eyebrow as he looked down at me. “I’m not past anything.”
I dropped my head against his chest. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to torture me. Why were we rehashing this again? Hadn’t we done enough to hurt each other already? Why did I feel compelled to make things worse? “That’s not what it looked like to me. The other night . . . when you were with that girl.”
“Em.” It felt like his voice was coming from inside my own head. And when I didn’t respond, his thumb eased my chin up. “That was nothing. Less than nothing.”
“Whatever, Lucas. You don’t owe me any explanations. We were never a thing, not really. Aster told me the two of you were over. But you were right—you and me, we’re better as friends.”
His expression clouded over, closing off as his entire body stiffened against me. His hand closed around my wrist, and now he was hauling me in the opposite direction, away from the dance floor. Away from the party. “Where are you taking me?”
“You and I need to have a talk.”
“We can talk back there.” But he wasn’t having it. He dragged me past guests, past the DJ booth and the entrance to the rec center, down a hallway that led to the administration offices, where I worked.
When we were completely and totally alone, he glared at me. He was looming over me as he backed me against a wall. He still had one hand on my wrist and the other was planted firmly above my head. “We’re not,” he stated with the kind of finality that made him sound like he was lecturing me.
I blinked several times, trying to figure out where I’d lost track of the conversation. “Not . . . what?”
His brow furrowed as he stepped in even closer, giving me no space to breathe. “Better as friends,” he snarled.
He was standing too close. Making my head spin. “How . . . can you say that? All we’ve done is make each other miserable—”
Before I could finish, his lips crushed mine, not at all the peck of a friend. Even if I’d had it in my head to play hard to get, I was lost the moment his tongue probed past the seam of my lips, demanding I part them. I didn’t struggle. I’d held back for too long already, and my passion matched his own. I arched against him, silently admitting I was his for the taking.
“What about that?” he rasped, tearing his mouth away and leaving me breathless. “Was that miserable?”
He sounded as frazzled as I felt. “Yes. Because it’s not real.”
This time, he flattened me to the wall. He cupped one of my breasts hungrily, and despite my protests that none of this was real, my body strained to bridge the space between us. He kissed me hard. Hungrily.
When he came up for air again, he panted against my lips, still squeezing my breasts over the fabric of my dress. “Tell me that’s not real.”
I was coming apart from the inside out. “It’s not—”
But he didn’t let me finish, his lips silencing me once more. His hands were everywhere, and I gasped when his large hand dipped beneath the neckline of my dress and his fingers closed around my nipple. “Real,” he insisted, kissing me senseless. Reality slipped away, and as much as I wanted to nod, to agree with him, all I could manage was to grind restlessly against his thigh, where he’d pinned me to the wall.
His fingers tormented my nipple until the bud was stiff and throbbing. Then he dipped his head so he could scrape his teeth across it. I jolted. This . . . this was agony. I arched and threw my head back. I clawed my fingers into his hair to keep him where he was, and he rewarded me by slicking his tongue across the sensitive nub as I rocked forward, riding his leg like my life depended on it.
This is real, I thought, even though the only sounds leaving my throat were whimpers of desire.
But Lucas didn’t seem to notice or care whether I agreed or not. His hands gripped me by my ass as he dragged me up against him while he rocked, too, pulling me closer. We still had all of our clothes on—the only thing separating us—but even so, feeling his rigid cock . . . so ready for me . . . beneath his trousers . . . beneath me. It was like jumping into an electrified swimming pool.
I was ungrounded. Charged.
I was a live wire.
And then, while I was still pinned in place, he used one hand to gather the hem of my dress and drag it over my hips. All the while, the fingers of the hand still cupping my ass edged inside my panties, finding my center. I was hot for him . . . and so very wet.
I should care that we were in a hallway, in the middle of the rec center. I should care that anyone, at any time, could walk up on us. That we could be discovered—me, with my breasts exposed and my dress hiked up around my hips. That there was a gala going on in the space next door.
But I didn’t.
All I cared about was this. Lucas, and what he was doing to me.
This . . . was real.
When his thick finger finally plunged inside of me, I groaned against his mouth. I sank my teeth into his lower lip and I bucked into his hand, clutching his shoulders and trying to ride that finger like a cowgirl. He was palming me, the thin fabric of my panties was thoroughly soaked. I needed them gone. I needed to be sheathed around more than just Lucas’s finger.
But I didn’t have to say those words aloud, because Lucas knew.
“Hold still,” he said, setting me down long enough to unbuckle his belt and undo his zipper. Then he had me by the hips and I gasped as he kicked my knees apart. He didn’t bother removing my panties, only yanked the material aside to make way for his cock . . . until I felt his tip throbbing against me.
Stars exploded behind my eyes the moment he thrust inside. Finally.
My pussy was made for him . . . and only him. That’s how well we fit together. And this, right now, was like coming home.
And then he thrust again . . . and again . . . and again. Glancing up, I looked into his dark, soulful eyes. He was watching me back, his nostrils slightly flared. His voice raw, he said, “It’s real.”
And I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t lie. Not to myself, and not to him.
Never to him.
“God,” I sobbed, choking on the words. “ . . . this is so fucking real.”
I surrendered to the storm of sensations that were swallowing me up. That drew me into their vortex as Lucas consumed me. As he pumped harder, and whispered louder, kissed deeper, and gripped tighter, taking me with him into the eye of the storm.
And just when I thought I’d lose it, Lucas reached into the space between us, his thumb finding the sensitive nub of my clit. That was it. I screamed, every muscle in my body tightening all at once, coming as I’d never come before.
He covered my mouth with his, swallowing my cries, as he gave one final thrust. I was still clenching and unclenching around him when he came too. He shuddered violently, his forehead collapsing against mine as he let out a long, hollow sigh.