Page 23 of Lucas (The Valeur Billionaires #2)

Chapter Sixteen

LUCAS

I sift through the letters and mail piled on my desk, the stack daunting in its height. I haven’t had a chance to go through it in recent days, and the sheer volume that has accumulated is intimidating.

I reach for the first envelope, the heavy cream paper and embossed gold lettering already hinting at its content. I slide my letter opener under the flap; the blade slicing through the expensive parchment like butter.

My eyes scan the contents, a frown tugging at my lips as realization sets in.

A charity gala. In two days. Fuck.

I pull out my phone and type a quick message.

Fundraising event for children with cancer this Friday at nine. Your attendance is required.

I hit send and lean back, waiting for the inevitable storm. It doesn’t take long. My phone vibrates less than a minute later, Ava’s name flashing across the screen.

Wifey

That’s in two days.

I can practically hear the indignation in her tone, see the fire sparking in those green eyes. My lips twitch, amusement warring with irritation as I type back my response.

I know how to read dates.

Wifey

It was agreed in the contract that you give me a week’s notice before an event I need to appear at.

Because you need time to learn how to act like my loving wife?

Wifey

Because I need time to calm down so I can spend a whole evening in your company without throwing up.

Sorry, but there are restrooms at the event if you need to vomit. And I think you should get that checked out by a doctor.

Wifey

I’m not coming.

My jaw clenches. Of course, she’s being difficult. Of course, she’s fighting me on this, just like she fights me on everything else.

Oh, you’re coming, alright. I wasn’t at the office for a week because you said we needed a fake honeymoon, so I missed the invitation, and now there are only two days left. So actually, it’s your fault. I can’t show up to my first public event since the wedding alone.

Wifey

Tell them I’m sick.

Or that we had a fight.

Or that you tried to steal my parrot.

I stare at the screen. I have to hand it to her, the woman is creative. Infuriating but creative.

And you tried to run me over. And you towed my car. I think my reaction was mild.

Wifey

You don’t even understand what you did wrong.

What is she talking about? I didn’t do anything to her. Or is she talking about the clothes she doesn’t like again?

We didn’t go to any events in the first week, you already owe me two events. I’ll let you off the hook for one. And you don’t have to wear the dresses I bought .

There. No one can say I don’t compromise.

Wifey

You think a dress is what will make me come?

Heat licks up my spine at the unintentional insinuation, my mind flooding with images of her coming undone beneath me, around me. I shift in my seat, my pants suddenly tight.

Fuck.

Get it together, Valeur.

Shoving the thoughts aside, I tap out a message, unable to resist the urge to prod, to push.

So you want to come? I already offered you orgasms.

Wifey

I’m sure you don’t know how to make a woman come. They must be faking it.

Oh, she has no idea.

I’ve never left a woman unsatisfied. Never failed to reduce them to a quivering, pleading mess, begging for more, for anything I’m willing to give.

The urge to show her just how good I can make her feel is sudden and overwhelming. To spread her out on this very desk and worship her with hands and mouth until she’s sobbing my name—until she forgets every reason she has to hate me.

Feeling brave behind the keyboard? Come here and find out for yourself .

Fuck. She works in this building now, just a few floors away. What if she shows up? My cock twitches at the thought, and I run a hand over the front of my pants. If these conversations continue, I’ll need to jerk off in the bathroom.

Wifey

I’m way braver than you. I just know you’re all talk. You’re an insensitive bastard, and people like that can’t be good in bed.

An insensitive bastard? Maybe. But I know my way around a woman’s body.

More threats and empty words. Do you have the courage to come and check for yourself?

Wifey

I’ll come to the event but this is the last time you give me such short notice.

I set the phone down on the desk and realize I’m smiling. She caved. How is it possible that I enjoy these spats so much?

I lean back in my chair and lace my fingers behind my head, satisfaction thrumming through my veins. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

There’s just something about Ava that brings it out of me. A reckless, impulsive side I thought I’d long outgrown. She pushes my buttons like no one else and gets under my skin in a way I can’t quite understand.

My mind keeps drifting back to her. To the way her cheeks flush when she’s angry, the defiant tilt of her chin when she’s facing me down. The intoxicating scent of her perfume, the maddening sway of her hips as she walks away...

Gritting my teeth, I give my head a sharp shake, dispelling the thoughts. This is exactly what I can’t allow. This preoccupation, this...obsession.

I reach for the next envelope in the stack, my mind already turning to all the tasks I have to accomplish before the gala, before I have to face her again, and pretend that I’m not counting down the seconds until I can.

“Lilibeth?” My voice echoes through the spacious kitchen.

“Yes, sir?” She turns to me, wiping her hands on her apron, a smile gracing her face. The copper pots behind her simmer and steam, filling the kitchen with the enticing scents of her cooking. I draw a deep breath.

“Could you make that special dish again, the one with the caramelized apricots? I loved it.”

The smile vanishes from her face. “Umm...”

I frown. “Is something the matter?”

“No, just… Um...” Lilibeth fidgets with her apron strings, her gaze darting around the kitchen, looking anywhere but at me.

“What’s wrong, Lilibeth? It’s just a dish. Did you already cook something else for today?”

“No. It’s just that she asked me not to tell you.”

“She?” I narrow my eyes and take a step closer, closing the distance between us. “You mean Ava?”

Lilibeth nods .

“What are you not supposed to tell me? You know you work for me, not Ava. She can’t make demands of you.” What the hell could she be hiding? What’s so important that I can’t know about it? Is she poisoning me?

“She demanded nothing. She’s not like that.” Lilibeth lowers her gaze. “I don’t want to betray her trust.”

“If you don’t tell me right now, you can consider yourself dismissed. I won’t keep staff who keep secrets from me in my house.”

Lilibeth’s head snaps up, eyes round with alarm. “No, sir, I swear it’s nothing like that! There’s no conspiracy. It’s only, well, that particular dish you enjoyed so much...”

“Yes?”

“She made it. It’s her recipe, and that’s why I can’t make it for you.”

I blink. Once. Twice. “Ava, cooked?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.” Lilibeth looks at me like I’m being dense.

“That’s all? Why did she want to hide that from me?” I don’t understand.

Lilibeth shrugs. “I’m not sure, but I think she wanted to hear your true opinion without you complimenting it just because she made it.”

I think the opposite. She didn’t want me to spit it out if I found out she cooked it.

This whole situation is strange. Ava knows how to cook? Not just cook, but gourmet food. Lilibeth is an excellent chef, yet that dish is seared into my memory.

I leave the kitchen and head to my home gym.

After our texts this morning, there’s no chance in hell she’d agree to cook something for me. She’d prefer to stab me with a knife than cater to me.

I shove open the gym door and freeze, stunned by the sight in front of me. Ava, in only a sports bra and a pair of lycra shorts so tiny they’re nearly indecent.

Her lush curves are on sinful display as she runs on my treadmill. Earbuds in, eyes closed, pink lips parted as she hums to herself, lost in her workout.

I can’t tear my eyes away from that perfect ass of hers as I stand there gawking like a fool at the narrow sweep of her back leading to full, round curves. A bead of sweat trickles down her spine, and I itch to lick it from her skin. I want to grab handfuls of her firm cheeks, bite into them?—

Ava’s eyes snap open and meet mine in the mirror. She cries out, arms smacking as she hits the stop button. Her feet tangle, and she falls backward off the treadmill.

“Fuck, Ava!” I lunge forward and grab her just before she hits the floor, pulling her against my chest. My heart pounds. “God, you almost hit your head.”

She looks up at me, dazed, lips parted as she gasps for air, the heat of her barely covered bottom in my hands. Only the thin fabric separates my fingers from her skin. This close, her scent floods my senses—flowers and sweat. It makes me want to do insane, stupid things.

Goddammit, I care more about her than I should. I like her more than I should.

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” I whisper. I raise my hand, brushing my thumb over her cheek, edging dangerously close to her mouth.

She doesn’t stop me, so I keep moving in—slowly. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown so wide they nearly eclipse the divine green.

Stop me, Ava. Stop me before I can’t stop myself.

Like she hears my thoughts, Ava pushes hard on my chest. I let her pull away, trying not to show how much I hate it.

“Right, because you care so much if I get hurt.” She laughs. “I could break my neck, and you’d celebrate.”

The spell is broken.

“And if you don’t want me getting hurt, maybe don’t sneak up on me like that.” She grabs a towel from the rack and drapes it over her shoulders.

“I didn’t sneak. I walked in the door like I always do. I just came to work out.” I gesture at my athletic attire. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sorry for intruding on your gym.”

Fucking hell. The way those tights hug her thighs, accentuating the enticing V between her legs. “You’re welcome to stay.”

She places her hands on her hips. “Yeah, right. While you stare at me like some creep?”

“Hah.” I press a hand to my chest. “You think too highly of yourself. You’re not interesting enough for me to want to watch you.”

A flicker of hurt passes through her eyes. “Screw you, Lucas,” she grits out, body going rigid.

“Gladly. Care to join me?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Is that how you speak to your husband?” I run my tongue over my lips. God, she’s gorgeous when she’s angry.

“I’ll speak how I want.” She lifts her chin, eyes issuing a challenge. “I’m not your property. ”

I close the distance between us, and she retreats until her back hits the mirror with nowhere left to go. I brace my hands on the mirror to either side of her head, caging her in. “Maybe not, but if you stop fighting me, you’ll discover what you’re missing out on.”

She gazes up at me, chest heaving, eyes wide. I’m not restraining her—she could slip away any moment. But she just stands there, eyes locked on mine.

I grind my hips into hers, and she lets out a soft whimper.

Fuck.

Precum dampens my boxers. How is it possible to be this turned on when we’re both fully clothed? When we haven’t done anything?

“Not interested in me, huh?” She tilts her head.

I huff out a breath. In my fantasies, she’s wrapping her legs around me while I fuck her hard against this mirror. I want to hear that filthy mouth of hers screaming my name when she comes.

“Tell me, Ava, if I shoved my hand in your shorts right now, would you be wet and throbbing? Ready to beg for my cock like a good little?—”

“Touch me, and I’ll knee you in the nuts so hard you’ll taste them.” She arches an eyebrow.

“Worth it.”

Her mouth falls open, then snaps shut.

I don’t budge. “Don’t worry, Wifey. I’m a man of my word. If you want me to touch you, you’ll have to ask.” I lower my gaze. “Truth or dare?”

She lifts her face to mine, green eyes sparkling as she studies me, then finally says, “Truth. ”

I run my tongue along my teeth. “Do you want to come, Ava?”

She sucks in a sharp breath, hips shifting. Just a little, but enough for me to feel.

“The truth, Ava.”

She shakes her head. “I changed my mind. Dare.”

I grin. So that’s how she wants to play? Fine by me. “Kiss me.”

“What?” Her eyes go even wider, breasts rising and falling against my chest.

“You heard me. Kiss me. Like you mean it.”

Ava stares, her pupils huge, the green almost gone. I don’t move, hardly breathing. Kiss me, Ava. Just kiss me. Stop denying this need between us.

I know she wants me as badly as I want her. It’s just physical, nothing wrong with that. I want her to give in to her needs, to give herself to me. Fuck, I want her so much.

Her eyes flutter closed just before she presses her lips to mine. Only for a second. Then she pulls back.

I chuckle. “You call that a kiss? Or are you just too scared?” I’m goading her, knowing she won’t back down from the challenge.

She captures my mouth again, pushing up on her toes, hands in my hair, pulling my mouth to hers. Her lips touch mine, and it’s electric, making my cock throb.

I groan and crush her to me, pinning her against the mirror. Her heart races against my chest. Her tongue pushes into my mouth, hot and hard, and I let her in, angling my head to get deeper.

God, she tastes good. Like cherries and chocolate, sweet and addicting. I could drown in her. I gentle the kiss, slowing it down, sucking on her bottom lip. She whimpers and arches into me.

My hands want to explore the tender softness of her breasts, to trace the sensual curve of her hips. I’m painfully hard, my dick like iron.

I groan into her mouth, using every ounce of willpower to keep my hands on the mirror instead of touching her like I promised. My body screams, demands to be inside her now.

When she breaks the kiss, we’re both breathless. Her lips are swollen and scraped red from my stubble, eyes smoldering.

We both felt that. I know it. But she’s not ready to surrender to me yet. I can see the resistance etched on her features.

Still, I check just to be certain. “Do you want to ask for it, Ava?”

“When hell freezes over.” She ducks under my arm and flees the room.