Cheater (Curious Liaisons 1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

LUCAS

She asked me what I wanted—and meant it. But she’d also taken my heart and beat it against the door, stomped on it for good measure, then shoved it back into my chest with a smile on her face.

She wasn’t like my other women.

Not at all.

But I didn’t want her to be, and it pissed me off that she was categorizing herself the exact same way—like she was planning sex, like she was just another freaking day of the week.

All I had to do was look in the mirror to know whose fault that was.

And all I had to do was tell her no—in order to fix it.

But I’d always been selfish—once a cheater, always a cheater, right? Only this time, this time it really did feel wrong.

This felt like cheating.

I wasn’t cheating her.

I was cheating us.

And when the idea of cheating suddenly transformed into something plural, like an “us”—that’s when you were in the wrong, that’s when you fought like hell. So I decided to give her this night, I decided to do the wrong thing—in hopes of doing the first right thing I’d ever done.

I’d hold her in my arms.

I’d kiss her lips, draw out each moan and scream, and if she tried to leave me, I’d simply chain her to my bed and provide enough food and water for her to survive until she agreed to be with me for longer than a twenty-four-hour period.

Okay, so it wasn’t a solid plan.

But it was all I had.

And because of my lifestyle I knew if I told her she was different, she’d want to believe me but wouldn’t be able to—and seeing the doubt in her eyes would hurt me as badly as her asking for one day had when what I wanted to give her was a week, a year, a lifetime.

Something bad was happening to me.

Either I had a tumor in my chest.

Or my heart was . . . beating.

Hell, I knew it had been there all along—it just needed a conniving little snot to weasel her way inside and clang around a bit with a hammer. It needed Avery.

“Come on”—I kissed her nose—“I have something to show you.”

Avery rolled her eyes. “Does that work on the other girls too?”

“I rarely have to say that, usually they just strip me at the door and—”

Avery covered my mouth with her hand and shook her head. “Not helping your case.”

I moved her hand and kissed her palm, and her breath hitched when my lips touched her skin. “I was kidding.”

“Too soon,” she said with a breathy sigh.

I led her by the hand down the hall and into my bedroom. “Go ahead, ask me.”

Avery gazed at the large bed and then the window and then back at me. “Who’s your decorator?”

“Avery Bug, come on—ask me.”

“How many women?” she blurted. “How many women have been in that bed?” It killed me that she had to squeeze her eyes shut as if she was expecting the number to be such a blow that she couldn’t look at me when I confessed it.

“One.” I kissed her forehead. “Though last time she was in it, she was really cranky, drunk, made fun of my pancakes, and threatened my life.”

“She sounds awesome. Can I have her number?” Avery grinned up at me.

“She’s alright I guess.”

“I bet she has amazing boobs and knows how to moonwalk, and can eat an entire block of cheese within a ten-hour period.”

“One whole block?” I repeated.

“With wine,” she added with a smile and then looked back at the bed. “Any reason why no other girl has been in here?”

“Easy.” I shrugged. “This is the only part of me that’s for me.”

Avery reached for my hand, then squeezed it. “I think this is the part where I say I’m honored that you’re sharing your eight-hundred-thread-count sheets with me, but I can’t quite manage to choke out a thank-you before sex.”

“I’ll expect one after.” I chuckled. “Or you could just tell me to go to hell and run out the door.”

There it was again.

The push.

We did banter well—I made her think I didn’t care, and she treated me like a disease—and yet when we connected, we felt it. Words can lie, and the words said between Avery and me? Absolutely necessary to avoid the truth of our touch.

A touch can’t lie.

A touch may as well be a confession—and in that confession, you have no choice but to acknowledge the truth.

“I think you better kiss me right now.” Avery stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across my chin. “Before I say more stupid things or just bail on you altogether.”

“We’re doing this.” I wasn’t sure if I should be excited, elated, or disappointed that she wasn’t telling me to go to hell when, according to her, I’d be seeing another girl in less than twenty-four hours.

“It’s not cheating if you know.” She repeated those same damn words I’d told her less than a week ago. And I only had myself to blame. Funny, when I said them I’d meant them. Truly believed that if you were that transparent, then it really wasn’t a bad thing. Everyone wins.

Until now.

I’d never been on the receiving end, and it hurt.

It cut deep.

Because if she left my bed to warm someone else’s, I’d end up in prison.

Another kiss to my chin and then my lips. I knew I should push her away—we needed to have the dreaded talk, we needed to . . . I let out a moan as her hands fumbled with the buttons of my shirt.

“What are you doing?” I asked, gently grasping her wrists.

“Taking your clothes off, Thorn. Why? You got a problem with that?”

“Are you going to mount me if I do?” I teased.

Her scowl deepened while her face flushed bright red. “I guess I brought that on myself.”

“Yes.” Still holding her wrists, I backed her up against the bed until she had no choice but to fall backward onto the pillows. I straddled her and pinned her arms above her head. “Now, why don’t you let me kiss you first? It’s only polite before you start pulling my clothes off.”

She nodded and swallowed as I lowered my head to hers. We were a breath apart.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

AVERY

Bad idea.

Bad idea.

Good.

Oh my hell.

Was that his tongue?

So.

Knees buckling, I held on to his firm body to keep myself from collapsing against him.

Good.

I shivered as the aching tension between us intensified past anything I had ever experienced.

Why hadn’t I jumped into his bed before? This was a splendid idea. His lips trailed up and down my neck, causing me to shiver, and then his fingers moved to my dress and tugged it down my shoulders. My flesh was too sensitive for words, and that was just from kissing.

Something about the way his lips caressed my body—something about the way he held me—signaled what we were about to do was a way bigger deal than anything he had with his other girls.

Was this how he treated all of them?

With awestruck worship?

Because it could get addictive—his touch wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced. You know it’s bad when the way someone touches you alters the way you feel about yourself. No longer was I the young, inexperienced brat he’d grown up with.

In Lucas Thorn’s arms, I, Avery Black, was a woman.

“You’re shivering.” His lips nibbled mine before he took a step backward and pulled his shirt off over his head.

I sucked in a breath. “Can you do that again? Maybe slower next time?”

His lips spread into a wide, arrogant smile. “That depends. Will you gasp louder next time?”

“Ladies don’t gasp, and if they do, a true gentleman wouldn’t point it out.” My lips were moving, but my eyes were locked on his insane chest.

“Good thing,” he said as he took a step toward me, “I’m not a gentleman.”

“Good thing,” I repeated, my voice sounding airy, nervous as he very slowly snaked his right arm around the back of my neck and tugged me forward against his solid wall of muscle and heat.

With a moan, I pressed an openmouthed kiss to his chest. “I may just hang out here for a bit.”

I could feel his chuckle against my mouth—I hated how good the vibrations felt. I hated how they made my heart pick up speed, and how warmth spread from my head all the way down to my toes when his grip on my body tightened possessively. I hated all of it.

Not.

“You know this has to be the slowest seduction ever,” he grumbled. “I’ve been waiting years to see you naked, and you nearly pass out when I take off my shirt.”

“Years?” My ears perked up. I waited for details while his hands ran down my back, his fingers locating the zipper to my dress and pulling it.

“Years,” he repeated. “Years.”

“You’ve said that twice—no, three times.” Cold air hit my back as Lucas slid my dress all the way down.

Lucas stepped back and cursed. “Oh, Avery, the things I’m going to do to you.”