by Zoey Parker
“Yeah, look into it. But keep it under wraps. No one should know this is happening.” Luke gives his orders, his tone brooking no argument. Off the phone again, he studies the image. His gaze is so intent, I don’t see how he knows I’m inching away. But he does.
His hand moves fast, sliding over to grip my thigh.
“I should probably get going,” I say, casually.
Luke regards me with furrowed brows. “I’d like for you to stay, Lily.”
How does he make my name sound so…sinful? I have to ward off the urge to lean in, beg him to take me upstairs and continue what we started before Art Dayton distracted him. I fight myself, turning from what I want so badly.
“Luke—Mister Hanley, I should get going. We can talk about the alibi later.” I lower my voice near the end of that statement, particularly on the ‘alibi’ part. I don’t believe it’s the reason Luke has my thigh in a tightening grip.
“We talk now,” he says.
Chapter 10
Lily
“Now?” I echo, stammering.
Does Art Dayton scare him that much? And then I realize it’s a silly question. Why shouldn’t Luke be scared? He’s only mortal. Detective Dayton could put him away for life if he could link him to a murder.
Funny enough, I haven’t thought of Luke as the murderer. I mean, I know he’s the kingpin. Russ and his thuggish friend were taking the orders of their boss, and Luke’s that boss. Luke’s the bad guy in this situation, yet I have the niggling sensation that there’s more in the dark to this story than the light that’s been shed on it thus far.
Call me brainwashed, but I can’t—I won’t see my boss as a cold-blooded killer. And that’s why I say, “Fine, but you won’t like what I have to say.”
Seeing as I have the floor, I continue. “I thought I could be fine with pretending to be your girlfriend, but I can’t.”
“Lily,” Luke warns.
I remember how he fed me the cover story in this very space last night. By the time I was done parroting him, he was touching and kissing me, and I was letting him take me to his bed.
I can see it unfolding again. Leaning away from him on the couch, I look pointedly from his face to his hand on my upper leg.
Instead of taking the clue, Luke draws closer.
I find myself dropping back, my head falling to the sofa’s armrest, Luke hovering over me. His knee is digging into the cushion on one side, his foot still on the floor. He stares down at me from this half-standing position, his hand shifting from my leg to gripping the armrest by my head.
Very slowly he clasps his other hand to the front of his slacks, his palm outlining his erection. So, he still wants me. That’s good. Wait, no it isn’t.
Gulping, I force my stare up to his face.
He’s all scowl. I guess my wanting to leave is the reason for that, but what does he expect?
This is crazy. All of it, but especially us being an item.
Luke belongs in his world and I belong in mine. A woman like Angelina—beautiful, accomplished, self-assured, expensively-clothed—suits him better. As for my knowing about the victim in his side business, I’d take that with me to my grave before I risked his wrath or his father’s.
I’m horny, not stupid.
“Mr. Hanley.”
He cuts me off with a click of his tongue, his mouth parting to reveal his perfectly straight white teeth clenched with his irritation. His stare takes in my heaving chest, trails down my body, clothed again by my little black dress.
I know Luke doesn’t like what he sees because he grabs at the front of my dress. “Okay. You win. We talk later, fuck now.”
I should tell him that can’t happen. As I open my mouth to tell him so, my desire fumbles out instead. “Fine.”
Fine?
What happened to telling him “no”?
Luke moves quickly, leaving me no time to wrap my head around what’s happening, how everything changed in a second. And when I’m stripped down to my underwear again, I can’t think. I can’t string together words as he pushes down the soft cups of my strapless bra and lowers his mouth to a throbbing nipple.
Adjusting himself over me, careful with his weight, Luke flicks his tongue over my pebbled flesh, his mouth sucking in my nipple.
I wrap my arms around his neck, hands sliding over and massaging his taut upper back muscles. I moan softly and sigh, but suck in a sharp breath when his teeth graze my breast and I part my thighs instinctively.
His hand cups my mound, thumb pushing down on my achy clit, his index and middle finger stroking circles over my opening. I’m soaking through my panties, the wet spot dragging in cool air. After teasing me through the underwear, he pushes the material over my crotch aside, and his finger wriggles into my gripping hole.
“Ah,” I sigh, breath hitching, locking in my throat. I suck up his digit all too easy, prompting him to add a second. I’m not feeling full until he fills me with a third. He pumps his hand, faster, and his thumb rubs my clit, taking me higher.
My climax curls my toes, pulses through me in breathtaking waves. I seize lightly, head rearing up from the armrest, my lips parting for his incoming mouth.
“Mhm,” he moans against my lips. Or is that my sound of pleasure? It’s too chaotic to tell, and I don’t care, so long as his fingers prolong my orgasm.
When he moves to let us breathe, he murmurs, “You wanted to leave.”
I did.
Embarrassed he’d bring it up, I kiss him, silencing whatever other teasing accusations he has coming my way, I lock our lips together, letting his seeking tongue into my mouth. Now I’m definitely moaning, loudly. His fingers have left my pussy and he’s trailing the warm, wet digits around my areola, smearing my juices over me.
Letting him go, I watch as he sucks in my breast and cleans me up. I’m sure he’s heading lower, but after smacking a quick smooch over my lips he says, “Your turn.”
Before I can ask, I’m being lifted and carefully rolled over, our chests pressing together, my softness yielding to his hard, sculpted body. It takes some maneuvering, but when I’m on top, his bulge pressed to my core, Luke grins at me.
“Ride me, baby. Show me how much you want my come.”
That kind of dirty talk is enough to make me orgasm again, but I hold off, drawing him out of his slacks and boxers, fumbling until I have the flushed head and weeping slit of his cock kissing my opening.
Luke’s grin wavers with his clenched groan.
I slid him in, sitting down and pressing my full weight over him. He feels so good inside. I don’t remember what it was like when he wasn’t filling me, but I imagine it was horribly lonely and empty.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Luke breathes. His cheeks are suffused pink, his mouth parting with his fast breaths. Cool and calm as he may usually be, this is a different side to the man I know as my boss.
Like during our date tonight, there are cracks in that façade he dresses himself up with day-to-day at the dealership.
But now I’m in control, given the reins of leading us both to our sexual fulfilment, and I embrace the responsibility, my enthusiasm to rock and ride his thick, hard dick shedding any remaining bits of self-consciousness. I slide up and down, Luke’s hands supporting me some, my hips slapping down against his.
“That’s it, sweet Lily, take it. Take all of me.” Luke’s encouragement, hoarse and deep, heightens my pleasure.
I drag my nails over his chest, my palms flattening to still my shaking hands. I’m close now. So delightfully close to the end.
Unabashed, moaning as loudly as I like, I ride him and grind to another orgasm. My body tenses, pleasurable pulses knocking me fiercely, my hands splaying and steadying on Luke’s chest. If his hands hadn’t been holding my thighs, I’d have surely slipped off.
He’s gripping me tightly, groaning out his own pleasure, his hot fluid massaging my vaginal walls, warming me. His jerky thrusts slow and soon he’s rubbing my sides, smiling lazily up at me
.
I crumble forward, Luke buried in me, my body hovering above reality in afterglow mode. My head resting by his, I reach to brush my lips to his bare, relaxed jaw. I brush my nose on the same spot, moaning when his hands cup my butt cheeks, spreading them apart, letting cool air brush my still wet opening.
Luke holds me long enough for my heart to calm to a normal rate and my body to float back down to the real world, and the real-time consequences.
“Shit.” Luke’s curse brings my gaze up. “You’re not on the pill, are you?”
I shake my head, some much needed blood rushing from my pulsating vulva back to my brain. “You didn’t…” I don’t finish the sentence. I’m well aware he hadn’t used a condom. I was the one angling his thick shaft inside of me.
“They have morning-after pills for that sort of stuff, right?” Luke is thinking more clearly than me. I’m ready to resign myself to a very inconvenient pregnancy, but he’s on the ball with an answer. “Lily? I’ll look into it.”
“Sure. That’d be good.” I’m ready to relax again, except when Luke said he’d look into it, he meant right then.
Moving out from under me, he holds up a hand as I sit up. “You stay and rest. I’ll hop over to the closest pharmacy and be right back.” He’s dressing wildly like the devil’s on his heels, promising hellfire and brimstone for the rest of eternity. It’s enough to have me reaching for my discarded dress at the bottom of the sofa.
Luke notices I’m standing, slipping it on. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready,” I say, a little too huffily. I’m hurt, but I hate that he has to be privy to how much. “For when you get back and call one of your men to take me home.”
Luke is moving to me, but I hold up a hand, backing around the coffee table, careful not to slip and tumble. That wouldn’t help here.
I need to look strong, capable, and perfectly clear-headed with my words and decision.
“You go, run off and get that magic pill for me.” I make a shooing motion with my hand, lowering it at his slashing brows and scowl.
Luke looks fierce. I swear a muscle jumps in his hard jaw. His eyes are chiseled bits of dark green, slicing through me, analyzing me after that display.
But I’m not putting on a show for fun. Everything I’ve said is what I mean. He should run off and return with the morning-after pill. Lord knows a baby thrown into our lives would only make matters worse. No innocent should be tainted by any of this falsehood.
“You want my baby,” he drawls, his voice thick with his displeasure and frustration. “Is that what you’re telling me, Lily, you want my child? Because if that’s the case, we seriously need to have a chat—”
“No!” I gasp, not caring I’ve interrupted him.
My fists clenching in front of me, I spit out, “I don’t want your baby. I don’t even want this stupid, fake relationship. I never wanted any of it, not like this.”
And then because I feel the tears coming, I scamper around his furniture for the front door, already planning to hoof it, call for a cab once I’m far enough from his beautiful condo, his gated community, and his world.
Grabbing my discarded stockings by our haphazardly tossed shoes, I hurry to slip on my heels.
“And forget the pill,” I snap over my shoulder, voice cracking on a sob. “I’ll pick it up myself.” I still don’t feel better, so out of malicious spite, I call back. “I can’t see why Detective Dayton is the bad guy here. He’s the one searching for criminals to arrest, hold them responsible for killing someone. Maybe I should help him—” I cut off.
Luke is on me in a few seconds, a few strides.
He presses me to the front door, hands slapping the light-colored wood, his eyes wild, his voice icy. “You will not.”
Pushing his face into mine, leveling our stares, he growls, “Do you know what you’re saying? Can you hear yourself? I swear, Lily, I pegged you for being smarter than this.”
When I try to talk, he takes a sharp, warning breath. “Listen carefully, so you can’t say I didn’t tell you. My family is off-limits. Detective Dayton, he’s threatening that. He’s nothing but a salivating dog sniffing and barking up the wrong fucking tree.
“You think he’s such a good guy? A good cop? That picture I showed you is attached to an article. The guy used to work for undercover narcotics in St. Louis. His reputation was in question after his partner was killed, and he survived the so-called gang hit. Next thing he’s here, in Potentia, supposedly transferred here on his request.
“Well I call bullshit. Guys like him will knock anyone down on their way to the top. He’s not going to hurt my family, Lily, and you’re most certainly not going to help him do that. Am I clear?”
I nod, frightened. I sniffle.
Luke’s gaze darts over my face, his scowl present, his anger slamming off him in waves. But he pushes back with a grunted “Let’s go.”
The drive to my apartment is in silence. No music to cut through the tension between us. I realize halfway through that I forgot to collect my panties. I press my thighs together, and I sneak a peek at Luke’s shadowy profile.
Slowing to a stop in front of my building’s entrance, I’m ready to leap out, but I hold fast, hand releasing my seat belt. Luke is keeping his eyes dead straight, his hands on the ten and two o’clock and the engine humming, seat warmer alive under me.
“I wouldn’t hurt your family,” I say, pushing past the guilt. After the fear of his crazed reaction to my threat of seeking out Art Dayton, I’m left wading through the worry of having lost his confidence.
Our super short time as a couple might have come to an end, but I don’t want to lose my job for it. And I don’t want to lose Luke, an otherwise easygoing boss, to my very raw heartbreak and stupid mouth.
“I would never hurt you and your family. I owe you more than a job, Mr. Hanley—Luke. I owe you a life in this wonderful, peaceful town.” Trusting I’ve said enough, I leave the rest behind me, exiting the car and closing the door after me.
Luke doesn’t drive off until I’m in the foyer and standing by the elevators. Then the tires scritch and he’s zipping away, back to his world and his life.
Chapter 11
Luke
I jerk awake with Lily’s name on my lips.
But it’s Russ staring down at me. Russ and Keith, and they’re sharing identical looks—a cross of humor and curiosity. Russ nudges Keith to the side, the taller, thickset man lumbering to the blinds and rotating them open.
“Fuck,” I cuss, shielding my face from the sun, my body flipping to the side to give my back to the master bedroom’s bay window. “Seriously?” I holler.
There are footsteps, thudding ones, and then Russ mutters, “Wait downstairs.” Then there’s a schick and the damned sunlight fades to a faint glow, the room caught in day and my post-drunken despair.
Yeah, I’m embarrassed to even think it. I drank myself to sleep. It’s unlike me, but there it is, hanging in the air, the thick musk unmistakable.
I sniff my sheets. Shifting up to prop against my pillows, I dig around to draw out the emptied bottle my foot bumps. It’s emptied because, as I flip to confirm it, there’s a large wet circle near the foot of the bed from the upended bottle.
“How the fuck did you get in?” I’m on Russ as soon as I note his gaze on the bed stain.
It’s mortifying enough to admit I slipped up, but to reveal this part of me to a witness is too much. Hands bunching up the fitted sheet, I snap, “Any day now. It’s not like I don’t have a life.”
“The housekeeper let us in an hour ago.” Russ blinks up to meet my eyes.
“Ellen?”
Russ nods. “She only cleaned up downstairs. She said she knew you were still sleeping and didn’t want to make any noise cleaning the rooms up here.”
Ellen was my father’s long-time housekeeper. She’s been as much a fixture of the Hanley family as a blood relative. I love the woman, but she’s loyal to my father and they often tag-team ag
ainst me.
I can’t imagine what Ellen will be heading back to report. It’s not like I can cover the stench in here. I might as well have poured booze everywhere.
Shit. Guess I have to check everything and make sure I didn’t have any other ‘accidents’ like the one that would see my mattress to the garbage once I could get my head together.
My thoughts can’t sit still. I’m jumpy as fuck, my left eye twitching, my mouth cotton-dry and my heart palpitating like it’s readying to rip out of my chest and run off on me. The bloody muscle probably wants to chase Lily down…
No, I’m not even going there.
