TWENTY-TWO
LUCY
I'm still on edge about Tom's visit when the work day ends, but when Jace comes into my office and pulls me close to him from behind, I feel some of the pressure lift from my body. Of course, a new pressure replaces it, and it only intensifies the second he dips his mouth to my ear and drawls, “Come over tonight, love. I have plans for your sweet cunt, and I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
My body arches. There’s nothing I want more than to wash away my frustrations beneath his body and sweat, but that’s not an option this evening. My mother has already texted twice. She wants to know when I’ll be home since we have plans to go out to dinner with her new “friend,” and I don’t want to stand her up. If I do, I’ll never hear the end of it—she still brings up the phone I lost while I was out with Jamie whenever I leave my device lying around the house.
“Come home with me,” Jace repeats, his warm breath fanning the nape of my neck.
“I can’t.” I splay my fingers on my desk as his hands wander past my waist to my ass. He cups it roughly, giving each cheek a pump that steals the breath from my lungs. If someone had told me my senior year of high school that this is where I’d be ten years down the road—bent over a desk by my boss, Jace Exley—I would have fainted where I stood. Doing this with him is madness, the opposite of what I thought I wanted out of a relationship, and yet I can’t get enough. I suck in my bottom lip and inhale deeply through my nose before releasing both. “I really, really can’t because I have dinner with my mother and her new boyfriend.”
But god, I want to spend the night with him.
“You can’t or you won’t?” he demands in my ear.
“Both.” At my words, he gives my ass a harsh slap, and I wiggle against him. He groans in my ear, then spins me around to face him, nudging his knee between my thighs as he draws me close to him. “Alright, love. Go home to your mother, then come to me after you’re done. I can come to you too, but I know I’ve got to be inside of you before the day is through.”
I roll my eyes up toward the ceiling, trying to pretend that what he just said doesn’t make my pulse pick up to a dangerous speed. “You're a sex fiend, Mr. E.”
He shrugs his broad shoulders, offers me a cocky smirk, and doesn't deny what I just said. Instead, he buries his fingers in my hair and tilts my head back. The tension sends a rush straight to my head that quickly sinks to my core. “You’re just now realizing that, Williams?”
He trails his full lips along the hollow of my neck, his stubble scratching my smooth skin. “Do you have any idea how badly I've wanted you since I sent that motherfucker off earlier today?” He kisses one side of my collarbone, then the other. “Do you know how hard it was to let him go without adjusting his pretty face for hurting you, Williams?”
“No.” He moves the knee between my thighs back and forth slowly, the friction wreaking havoc on my body. I release a strangled cry, which prompts him to go harder. Faster. “No,” I rasp, “I don’t.”
He bows me against him and lowers his mouth to my nipple. Although there’s a blouse and bra separating my flesh from his teeth and tongue, it doesn't make the sensation any less erotic. “Do you have any idea,” he starts, this time moving his teeth to my other nipple, “how much I’ve wanted to take you into the photo room, chain your ass to that bed, and fuck you until you forget about him?”
I moan, the strands of my hair not held captive by his grip flying around my face as I shake my head from either side. I can feel his cock against my stomach, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with my own, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to give into him. Fortunately for my lack of willpower, the moment he draws his knee from the juncture of my thighs to replace it with one hand, my phone vibrates on my desk.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Williams,” he warns, ripping a tiny hole in the center of my forest green tights, which I had picked up in anticipation of St. Patrick’s Day in a couple of weeks. “I mean it. Don’t touch that fucking phone.”
“I have to,” I pant, hating the way my body shudders the moment he slides one long finger beneath my panties and rubs the calloused tip over my center. All Jace has to do is crook a finger, and I fall apart for him.
“You’re already hot and swollen and so ready,” he points out in a low voice brimming with cockiness. He knows exactly what he does to me and he revels in it. Moving his mouth from my breast, he brings our heads together, his breath ragged. “You don't have to do anything but let me make you come until standing upright is no longer in the cards.”
Dear god, take me now.
My phone dings again. Squeezing his eyes closed, he looks like he’s about to say something else but then he lets out a growl, releases my hair, and pulls his hand from my panties before he takes a step away from me. My throat goes dry as I watch him wipe his wet fingers on the front of his jeans, and my legs tremble at the wicked look he sends my way when he realizes I saw him. Leaning over my desk to support myself, I grab my phone. As I check my messages I feel him come up behind me again, his erection a hard distraction while I read over my mom’s text.
6:34 PM: Are you coming home soon? Call or message back and let me know.
“Was she like this when you lived in San Francisco?” Jace runs his nose along the sensitive spot behind my ear. I look over my shoulder to find that his eyebrows are raised questioningly, so I nod.
“There were many, many times where I’d get a message at three in the morning my time.” The corner of his mouth quirks but he steps aside, giving me plenty of space to collect my belongings.
“I hate to see that ass go,” he drawls. “But I'll stop being selfish.” When I pause in the middle of wrapping up my laptop cord to give him a skeptical look, he lifts his hands in front of himself defensively, flashing me a glimpse of tattoos and bronze skin beneath his black tee shirt.
“Go home to your mother, Williams. But later, you’re mine. No ifs, ands, or buts other than your own raised in the air and waiting for me. And if I must, I’ll tie you up just to get you home with me. Just a fair warning—if it comes to that I really will fuck your arse like I’ve talked about.”
Those words—those words—make my heart go wild against the walls of my chest. Since I can’t quite form a coherent sentence, I simply bob my head. He responds by playfully slapping my bottom and dropping a kiss between my shoulder blades that courses a heatwave from the top of my head to the base of my spine.
“I'll see you later,” he says softly, his accent just as clear and beautiful as it was the day I met him years ago. He trails his lips over the spot behind my ear once more, inhaling deeply before he backs away from me to put a safe amount of distance between our bodies.
I tuck my hair behind my ears, shivering when my knuckle traces the path his lips and nose had made. He’s standing clear across the room from me, and I can still feel him on my skin. “No. I won’t forget,” I promise him huskily.
No matter what happens with Jace Exley and me, I already know that I won’t forget a damn thing.
I text my mother back just before I leave the workshop to let her know I'm on my way, and she responds with a curt okay. I don't think anything of it—after all, Mom isn't much for sending texts, she prefers talking over the phone—but as soon as I pull into the driveway of my childhood home, I come face to face with the source of her irritation. The luxury rental that Tom had driven to the workshop earlier this afternoon is parked on the curb, in my usual place. I pull my Jeep to a stop behind it, my face slowly going numb as I go over a hundred different reasons why he might be here. None of them are good, and I stare at the license plate of his car until the numbers blur, a cold dread settling over my chest.
He had told me he was leaving.
He had told me that he was going back to California today and that the next time he contacted me would be via his lawyer.
So why would he come here, to my mother’s house?
Drawing in a harsh breath through my nose, I turn off my car. For a long time, I stay within the safety of my vehicle, clutching my keys in my palm. I already know my ex has gone to my mother with something that will ruin my night—and I have a feeling I know exactly what that is. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths but even those eventually fall apart. When I’m left with the choppy gasps that remind me of the way I sounded the night I found out about Tom’s affair, I press my lips into a firm line and stumble out of the car.
Whatever he’s told my mom—it’s better to face it now than to let it get worse. When I find that the front door is already unlocked, I trudge inside. They’re both in the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch and drinking coffee. Even though she’s never been particularly fond of Tom, and her tolerance for him went right into the shitter when she found out he carried on an affair with Shane the entire time we were married, she's always been a gracious hostess. Her expression is drawn, miserable, but Tom looks like he’s just won the world’s biggest dick award. I suck in my cheeks, shove my hands into the shallow pockets of my black skirt because there’s nothing I want more than to reach out and knock that cup of coffee right down the front of his perfect suit.
I slam the front door behind me.
“I thought you said you were heading back to California hours ago. Why are you still here?” I demand, refusing to give him a cordial greeting. He got one of those from me earlier this afternoon, and he responded by trying to manipulate me into returning to San Francisco and putting down my role at EXtreme. “I’m tired, Tom. It’s been a long day and Mom and I have plans tonight. Can we just—”
“My flight got canceled,” he says, his light blue eyes focused intently on me as I pace across the living room to stand in the center of the floor. Heat creeps over the back of my neck because, suddenly, I feel like I’m on trial. On one hand, there’s my mom who’s glaring at me condemningly, and then there’s Tom. My ex will go low to get what he wants, and I wish my former friend Sarah had mentioned that all those years ago when she encouraged me to call him. “I figured I would visit Susie while I waited.”
“Boston and the airport is in the other direction,” I point out, taking a few steps back to ease down on the edge of the coffee table. Normally, Mom would throw a fit and remind me that couches and loveseats are for bottoms, not coffee tables, but she remains silent, angrily working her lips together. I can’t tell if she’s upset because he’s here or due to what he might have said, and I move my hands from my pockets. I splay them on my stomach but it doesn’t stop the pressure that makes it hard to breathe.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to wait at the airport in case something else came available?” I ask Tom.
“You are my wife, Luce—”
I clear my throat. “Was your wife, and that was before you cheated on me with your business partner.”
“And Susie was my mother-in-law. I don’t see anything wrong with coming by. If you hadn’t been so hell bent on getting promotions and being the best at WLC, she would have been the grandmother to our children.”
This isn’t the first time he threw those words up in my face—when I confronted him about Shane, he said that maybe he wouldn’t have resumed the affair if I’d put aside my career to get pregnant—but it still burns. He hadn’t wanted kids, had never even mentioned the possibility, until he needed a reason to place blame on me. Before I can stop myself, I’m back on my feet, glaring down at him.
“Get the hell out of here.” My hand trembles as I lift my finger toward the front door. I prepare to repeat myself, but he scoots forward on the couch, placing his coffee mug on the table behind me. My spine goes taut when his forearm brushes over my calf.
“I’m leaving in a few, Luce. Like I said, I just wanted to stop by and catch up with your mom.”
“And now that you have you can—”
“I thought you said she knew all about your … new job,” Tom continues, his blue eyes narrowing. “You never were the type to lie, but I guess that comes along with distributing porn.”
Even though I suspected he might say something about my role at EXtreme when I pulled up to find his car outside, nothing could have prepared me for my mother’s sharp gasp when he says those words. While the shock of my new job wore off for me after a couple of weeks, it’s a reality I knew Mom wouldn’t accept—even if I’m not actually involved in the lifestyle EXtreme derives most of its business from. I squeeze my eyes closed for a second, taking a deep breath before I focus my attention on her.
“It’s not what you think,” I say softly.
But her brown eyes crinkle at the corners and her short hair bounces around her face as she moves her head to either side. “Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?” She sounds hurt, and I feel a violent pain jabbing the center of my chest. Oh god, why the hell would Tom do this to me? Why couldn’t he just accept no and let me move on?
And the answer is as clear as day: Because Tom Duncan likes to get his way. He got his way with me, and with Shane, and even with a company that should have failed months ago.
“What’s happened to you, Lucy?” he speaks up, and I see red. I see red because not only did he make it difficult for me to secure any other job aside from EXtreme, he’s gone out of his way to belittle me for the choices I made to fix my situation.
Filtering in a harsh breath, I whirl on him. “Me telling you to go away hurt your ego so much that you had to run here to tell my mother?”
He widens his eyes in surprise, but that look doesn’t fool me for a second. Tom knows how conservative my mother is—on the weekend of our wedding four years ago, she had been adamant that he stay in a nearby hotel. I hadn't had the heart to tell her that I hadn't been a virgin since my freshman year of college, so I had forced Tom to comply with her wishes.
When he came here today, he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how disapproving she would be of my work with Jace, and once again he has screwed me over out of spite.
“Mom,” I whisper, taking a step toward where she’s huddled in one corner of the couch. “I’m sorry.”
She moves her head, then releases a sharp curse in Vietnamese. “I don’t want to hear you say sorry,” she says, the disappointment dripping from her voice. “I want to know why you lied. You can tell me anything, Lucy, you know that.”
Letting out a breath that rips apart my lungs, I drop my eyes to the floor and shake my head. “I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry about me. I didn't want you to say that you were disappointed in me. I didn't tell you because—”
Tom’s melodic voice cutting me off snaps my head back up. “She didn't tell you because she’s sleeping with her boss.” He must not have already revealed that to her, because Mom’s head snaps in my direction, and she looks at me like this is the first time she’s ever laid eyes on me.
“I see.” Mom’s hands are shaking as she stands and runs them over the front of her slacks, and the stare she shoots my way makes me wilt even more inside. I’ve spent most of my life being an overachiever, desperate to please my mother and father and, later, Tom. The fact that I’ve managed to shatter Mom’s faith in me in a matter of minutes nearly brings me to my knees.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, folding my arms tightly over my stomach.
Mom moves from the couch, her shoulders bowed as she heads into the hallway. She doesn’t even look at me when she mutters, “You should have told me the truth, Lucy. I would have gotten over it. And Tom?”
“Yes, Susie?”
“Please leave my home, I think you've done enough damage.”
Then she disappears toward her bedroom without so much as another word, leaving me alone with the man who’s become my biggest regret.