Page 32 of Lucas (The Valeur Billionaires #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

AVA

I lay on the bed in my room, Cartman standing on his perch. “What do you say, Cartman? Did I make a mistake?”

“Make a mistake.” his raspy voice echoes my words. “Mistake.”

I sigh. Yes. I can’t stop thinking about that moment on the roof, the moment he gazed at me as I climaxed, his eyes locked on mine and his cock gripped in his fist. I’ve been avoiding him since, but I can’t avoid him forever.

I shouldn’t have given in to him. Good thing he forgot the condom, and we stopped before...

I regret it.

No, I don’t.

I want to regret surrendering to his skilled hands and wicked tongue, but all I want is to do it again, to feel every hard inch of him stretching me, filling me, brewing an inferno inside me.

How does it make sense that I can’t stand his arrogant smirks and bossy orders and yet crave his touch like a drug at the same time?

I shouldn’t get involved with him. It’s hard enough seeing him every day, at work, at home. And the more my body reacts to him, the bitchier I become. I say things to him I’ve never dared say to anyone. Awful things.

Still, the more time we spend together, the less I hate him. And that scares me.

I have to remember that in the end, when our sham of a marriage contract expires, he’ll cast me aside like yesterday’s newspaper and forget I ever existed. Just like everyone else in my life. Just like Father.

I can’t wallow here all weekend, though, locked in my gilded cage of a room. I need to get out, to do something reckless and fun. Get away from his intoxicating scent and burning looks. Erase the memory of how his skin feels sliding against mine, how he looks in the throes of passion.

I reach for my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Michelle, tell me there’s a party.

Michelle

Of course there is. But you never want to come. Decided to leave the love nest? Have some fun?

Something like that.

Michelle

Sending you the details. You coming with your hot hubby?

No. I’m flying solo tonight.

Michelle

Trouble in paradise?

No. I’m still an independent person who makes my own decisions, and I can come alone.

Michelle

Okay, okay, Grumpy Ava. No need to bite my head off. See you there.

Why does everyone assume I’m attached at the hip to him now? I may have married the bastard, but he doesn’t own me.

I get up and walk to my massive closet. This estate has one thing going for it—the closet is every woman’s fantasy. I flip through my dresses, trying to decide what to wear.

I lick my lips, remembering the nasty comments I got at her last party. Maybe for Michelle’s parties, I shouldn’t wear my tailored dresses. Maybe they’re right, and I look like a snob? Is that why people don’t talk to me and laugh at me behind my back?

I glance at the other side of the closet, to the bustling racks of clothes Lucas’s fashion-snob stylist bought to fill my new wealthy wife image. I haven’t even bothered to look at them until now.

I run my fingers over the fabrics. Everything here is modern, edgy, shimmery and revealing. I’m not sure these clothes will look any less eye-catching than my own.

I pause on a tiny silver dress.

What’s this?

I yank the hanger out, holding the garment up to the light. It’s more lingerie than a dress—a micro mini in dazzling silver, the hem grazing the curve of my rear. The plunging neckline dips scandalously low, promising a peek at the slopes of my breasts if I so much as inhale too deeply.

No, this has to be a joke. The stylist must have been smoking something and tossed this in by mistake because there’s no charity gala or cocktail party in existence that I could wear such a slutty dress to without causing a riot. Shaking my head, I rehang the sparkly atrocity.

Then again...

I could wear this to a party. I wouldn’t even stand out there. Maybe, for once, I could look like I belong. Like I’m fun and sexy instead of a stuck-up prude.

Decision made, I take a long, leisurely shower, shaving and moisturizing every inch of my body until my skin gleams like satin.

I sweep my hair up into a tousled updo, a few wispy curls teasing my neck.

With a steady hand, I apply sultry makeup—smokey eyeshadow to make my eyes pop and a swipe of crimson lipstick for my pouty lips.

I step into the scandalous dress, the metallic fabric hugging my every curve like a second skin.

I pause in front of the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the vixen staring back at me with lidded bedroom eyes. I look sexy and daring, like a different woman. The golden tan I earned from my walks glows against the icy paleness of the dress, emphasizing my toned legs and arms .

It’s not my style, and even when I’ve dressed revealingly before, there was always something elegant about the garment. Still, I have to admit, I love the confident, sensual creature reflected back at me. She looks ready to hit the town and break some hearts at a wild, champagne-soaked party.

Slipping my feet into strappy heels that make my legs look a mile long, I blow my reflection a cheeky kiss for courage before going out.

I make my way down the hallway, trying to avoid running into Lucas on my way out.

It’s late, and he’s usually closed off in his man cave wing at this hour, brooding over spreadsheets and swirling a glass of expensive Scotch. I think I’m in the clear as I reach the grand foyer, darting a furtive glance around the corner.

All clear.

I lengthen my stride, the front door in my sights, freedom beckoning?—

“Ava.”

I freeze on the spot, my heart stuttering and sinking.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

I stretch my lips into a smile and turn to face him.

Lucas looms before me, all six foot two inches of pure masculinity, his white dress shirt half-unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing slice of tanned chest and abs.

He’s rolled the sleeves up his muscular forearms, and my gaze lingers on the corded veins before traveling down to his powerful thighs encased in tailored navy trousers.

His feet are bare, his hair tousled like he’s been yanking on it.

He has a cut-glass tumbler of amber liquid clutched in one hand.

“Lucas.” I incline my head.

He doesn’t return my smile, his sensual lips pressed in a grim line. “Where are you going?” Each word is precise and sharp, like an interrogation.

“To a party at Michelle’s.”

“Like that?” His eyes narrow to slits.

“What do you mean ‘like that’?”

“That dress. It’s not you.” His nostrils flare as he takes in the skintight mini, his gaze simmering with an emotion I can’t quite place. Anger? Disgust? Jealousy?

I cross my arms over my chest, jutting my chin out. “And how would you know what’s me? You don’t know the real me at all. Besides, your stylist bought this dress. It was in my closet, so I figured it’s okay to wear.”

“I don’t know why she bought that dress.” Lucas sets his glass down on the console table with a thunk, the honey-hued liquid sloshing up the sides. “You’re not leaving the house in this dress.”

“I can, and I will.” I paste on a vindictive smirk, even as my knees tremble under his forbidding scowl. “Watch me.” I turn to leave.

Lucas closes the distance between us in a split second, he grabs my arm, spins me around and presses me back against the wall, his hands pinning me in place on either side. The spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne invades my nostrils.

“No, you’re not.”

My pulse kicks up a notch, anger and arousal warring for dominance.

I straighten my spine, glaring right back at him even as I quake inside.

“You. Don’t. Own. Me,” I say, enunciating each word.

“This sham marriage doesn’t give you the right to dictate my clothing choices or how I spend my free time. ”

“I am still your goddamn husband, Ava.” His full lips peel back in a sneer, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“If you put this scrap of fabric on to piss me off and goad me into losing control, then bravo, you succeeded. Now go change into something that covers your ass, or so help me God...” He trails off, his voice a dark promise.

“Or what? You’ll spank me? Bend me over your knee like a naughty girl?” I shouldn’t bait him, but I can’t seem to stop running my foolish mouth. Adrenaline zinged with desire pumps through my veins, making me reckless.

“Don’t tempt me,” he growls through gritted teeth. “The way you’re acting right now, you’re damn well asking for it. Believe me, it would be a pleasure to redden that pert little ass until you can’t sit for a week.”

A whimper escapes my lips at his dark words, at the searing images flooding my brain. My panties are beyond damp now, my nipples hard points against the metallic fabric.

I can’t let him win. I have to stand my ground, prove I’m not his meek little wife.

I set my shoulders, glowering up at him. “Everything’s always about you, isn’t it? Poor Lucas, the world revolves around his giant ego. Newsflash—not everything I do is about you. I want to go have fun and let loose for once in my miserable life, and this is what I choose to wear. Deal with it.”

A tic pulses in his stubborn jaw. “Last chance. Go put on something that covers more than a fucking bandage, Ava. I won’t ask again.”

“Or what?” I spit back, jutting my chin at him. His threats are empty.

Lucas leans down until the tip of his nose almost brushes mine.

His voice is a dark rasp, raising all the tiny hairs on my nape.

“Or I’ll accompany you to this little cock buffet to make certain no man gets within ten feet of you.

I’ll hover over you all night and glower at any fucker who dares make eye contact. I’ll be your hulking, growling shadow.”

I should be irritated at his blatant cave dweller act, but instead, a twisted thrill dances down my spine at his possessiveness.

“There’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over,” I simper with false sweetness. “I have no intention of violating the terms of our lovely little contract. I’ll keep my knees locked together like a good girl.”