When I imagined how my night was going to play out, it wasn’t this. The saddest part was that until I heard a noise upstairs in my bedroom, I thought it was my mother. The front panel of my security system hanging open wasn’t something I put past her.
Then I smelled the food. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she would stock my fridge, but when I opened the fridge and saw the half-eaten sandwich, my eyes narrowed and an icy flush covered my entire body.
My sanctuary. My safe place. My home.
Instantly, I felt violated. Sick to my stomach. And filled with blind rage.
Before I crept up the steps, I’d grabbed the wooden bat that I kept tucked behind the couch. But walking to my room, after mentally preparing myself for what might await me, this had not been in the first hundred scenarios that I imagined.
Lucy’s eyes were huge in her face when I yelled at her. But she didn’t say anything right away. Her attention dropped to the bat I had gripped in my hand, and she sat up enough that I could see her entire face from underneath the mass of blankets that she had covering her.
“Answer me,” I roared. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
She made a soothing noise and lifted one hand from underneath the comforter. “Hey, calm down. Isn’t it obvious why I’m here?”
My mouth fell open as I gaped at her. “No.”
“Okay, well, I guess I’m not being very clear.” She sniffed and lifted one shoulder. One naked shoulder. I backed up too quickly and my back hit the door frame with an audible thud. Her eyes narrowed in concern and she started to sit up.
“Stop.” I pointed at her, but accidentally used the hand still holding the bat. “Stop. Don’t move until you tell me what you’re doing in my house.”
Lucy eyed the bat with one brow lifted. “Well, that’s kinkier than what I expected before I came in, but I can probably roll with it.”
“Shut up,” I practically growled. “I’m calling the cops if you don’t start explaining.”
“Whoa, buddy. No need to bring in the fuzz. I don’t really like being passed around, if you know what I mean.”
I gave her a long look and she broke the eye contact after a sharp, crackling moment. Inconveniently, Watkins’ mandate to converse with a woman whipped to the front of my head. Very inconvenient. Trying to imagine how he’d react to this predicament almost made me laugh.
Well, doc, I came home from therapy and found the pathological liar in my bed.
Just because I couldn’t see what was under the covers didn’t mean I was stupid.
“Lucy,” I ground out, actively striving for calm. “I’m giving you thirty seconds to get out of my house before I call 911. I’ve got more than enough proof of breaking and entering.”
“Oh, the security panel?” she asked, all batting eyelashes and wide-eyes, long silky hair messy around her face. “I just didn’t want a blaring alarm for my little surprise. It would’ve really killed the mood I was working toward.”
“Uh-huh.” I made a show of looking at my watch. “Fifteen seconds, and I’m being generous.”
She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Wait. Please.”
“Five, four …”
Then she jumped out from underneath the blanket, and my brain shut off. Because all she was wearing was lingerie. Black, lacy lingerie that didn’t cover her very well. Not well at all.
“Wha…” my voice trailed off as she walked toward me. She was long and lean, curved perfectly at the waist and hips. Her skin was pale and flawless, and in a split second, I knew she’d burn me if I touched her too soon. “What are you doing?”
Her pink lips curved into a sweet, sin-filled smile. There was so much dark eyeliner around her eyes, that I had the sudden urge to wipe it away because I didn’t like how it hid her green eyes. I didn’t like how it made her look evil and dark. She was half princess, half bombshell, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why that felt wrong.
“X,” she said and then paused, tilting her head while she stared at me. My skin felt hot and tight under her intense scrutiny. “Wait, what does the X stand for?”
“I’m not going to tell you that,” I stammered. She was so close that I could smell her. Lucy smelled like oranges and something dark and spicy. It fit her. The incongruity of all the separate pieces of her came together to make one interesting, spellbinding puzzle that I truly had no desire to put together. I wanted her gone. Wanted her away from me, because she was the most unsettling person I’d been around in … well, in forever.
Her eyes zeroed in on my throat when I worked to swallow. Then one hand reached out and she almost laid it on my chest before I stumbled back.
“Well, then I’ll have to use my imagination if you won’t tell me.” Her smile was mischievous, and it was the only thing that kept my eyes from straying down to the lightly muscled expanse of skin that spanned from the bottom edge of her black lace bra and ended at the V of her high-cut underwear. “There are lots of words that start with X. Can’t be too difficult to figure out, even for a girl like me.”
So much skin. Why was she showing so much skin?
I must have said it out loud, because she let out a delighted laugh. Why was she here? Why was she standing in my bedroom, my favorite room in my entire home and laughing like I was funny? Like I was a normal guy who wanted to make a beautiful woman laugh in his bedroom?
“You need to go.” My face was hot when she took another step closer, but I couldn’t force my feet to move.
“Shhh, Xylophone, I don’t.” Her hand landed on my chest and I knocked it away, which only made her smile even more widely.
“Stop touching me. And my name isn’t Xylophone, that’s ridiculous.” I wasn’t averse to begging, because if she didn’t get out my face, didn’t move, I’d be forced to bodily move her. I was stronger than her, I had no doubt of that. But then I’d have to touch … things. As short as she was, as petite, it would take nothing to sweep her up, or toss her over my shoulder. But I had a feeling that Lucy would consider that a triumph. “What are you doing here?” I sounded miserable. Probably because I was. This was my nightmare.
It could have only been made worse if my mom had turned the corner and forced copulation in order to become a grandmother. I shuddered and Lucy gave me a concerned look. “Are you okay? Maybe we should get you to relax a little.” She snapped her fingers and her face lit up inexplicably. “I saw whiskey downstairs! That’s exactly what we need.”
And off she went. Marching down the hall and down the stairs in her bra and underwear. I clasped a hand to my chest to make sure I wasn’t having a heart attack. Then I jogged after her, not trusting her in the slightest in my home. Especially now that I knew she had absolutely no boundaries.
I laughed, but it was dry and bitter-sounding as it came out of my mouth. What gave it away?
She broke in. Made a sandwich and put it half-eaten back into my fridge. Then stripped down and crawled under the covers of my bed. The sheets would smell like her, I realized. I had to clench my jaw to not think about it. When I rounded the corner downstairs, she was standing in front of the small drink service area I had in the corner of the kitchen. Her hips swayed slowly, like she was listening to music that I couldn’t hear.
Her hair, with its varying shades of blonde and brown, almost brushed the small of her back. There was so much of it. I swallowed roughly, but snapped out of it when I saw her pour a generous amount of amber liquid into a lowball glass and start to lift it toward her mouth.
In two strides, I was at her side and I snatched it out of her hand.
“Hey,” she said. “I was going to pour you one, you thief.”
I lifted an eyebrow and she had the decency to look chagrined.
“I didn’t know if you were an alcoholic,” I explained and then looked away when her eyes sharpened with interest. I shifted in place, uncomfortable with her unconcealed scrutiny. “I still don’t know what the hell game you’re playing, but it’s not worth ruining your sobriety.”
Lucy turned to face me, and I looked at her chest before I could stop myself. It was there. I couldn’t help it, okay?
“I’m not an alcoholic.” She reached up and patted my cheek. “But your concern is sweet, Xerox.”
Despite her ridiculous nickname, I relaxed a little. And when I did, she snatched the whiskey back out of my hand and tipped it back in one long swallow. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t cough or shudder. She hummed, tilting her head back after she swallowed.
“Ohmahgawd,” she said in a low voice that made the hair on my head tighten painfully, like my skin was shrinking over my frame. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room for me stay unaltered when she did shit like that.
“You need to cover yourself,” I said, more than a little desperately. Blankets. I needed blankets. Practically sprinting, I went to grab two large blankets from inside the black coffee table in front of my couch. She was smiling at me when I stood in front of her again. Her shoulders were angled back a little, which made her chest stick out. Had her bra gotten smaller? I think it got smaller.
The unamused look I gave her made her giggle, and that’s when I wrapped the largest of the two blankets around her shoulders, careful not to graze her skin.
I nodded. “There. That’s better.”
She didn’t shrug it off like I expected her to. She merely lifted a corner of the blanket up to her nose, holding my eyes the whole time, and then she took a deep inhale.
“Smells like you.”
“Lucy,” I warned.
She dropped the blanket and propped her hands on her hips. I was prepared with the second one, which I roughly shoved at her.
“For the love of all things holy, woman. Cover yourself before I lose it.”
“Ohhhh,” she breathed out, still very much not covered. “I get it.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Why wouldn’t she cover herself? “You get what?”
She clucked her tongue and shook her head sadly. “You’re gay.”