Because I needed sex.
Like some men needed water.
It was what I did when I felt nervous—actually, it was what I did when I felt anything—sex was my yoga.
And now I had nothing.
I tapped my pen against the report I’d been reading.
Ten minutes later I was still tapping, still staring at the same page, when Avery came bustling back into my office like a bat out of hell. Damn, the woman had too much energy.
I was torn between wanting to put a sleeping pill in her coffee or watch her turn in circles until she tuckered herself out.
“Here.” She shoved a cup in my face and then dropped the change onto my desk. “I got myself something too for my efforts. Is there anything else, or do you want me to work on the project list I was given?”
Oh shit. I’d been staring at her lips, and I totally spaced what she’d just asked me.
“Do I need to talk slower?” With an irritated frown, she spoke with care, enunciating every word as though speaking a foreign language. “It’s not really my thing, but if you’d rather I make smoke signals from my desk or learn sign language, I think I can manage.”
“You know, for someone who’s trying to get a good review from a VP, you’re not really starting off on the right foot. ‘Professional,’ remember?”
Her expression fell.
“That’s what I thought.” I smirked. “And sorry, but I had someone”—I searched for the word—“quit on me this morning, and it’s put me in a bit of a bind.”
“Who?” She tilted her head and took a sip of her giant coffee. “Did they do something important?”
“Very”—I tugged the collar of my shirt as she sucked in her bottom lip—“important.”
“Well, maybe I can help. And I mean that in a strictly ‘I’ll take on more work if you pay me more’ way, not an ‘I want to dig you out of the hole you’re in because I’m a nice person and I remember the way you used to hold my hand when we went to the fair’ way.”
“You were scared of Ferris wheels. It was the least I could do.”
Her blush ran from her cheeks all the way down her neck. “They’re . . . tall.”
“I’m tall. Are you afraid of me?” I leaned forward, placing my hands flat against my desk, ready to pounce.
She paused, and then a loud “Nope!” came out of those pink lips before she leaned forward. “Now, do you need my help?”
I chuckled. “Oh, Avery, I don’t think you want to help me in that . . . way.”
“What? Is it . . . hard?”
“Very.” I coughed. “And often.”
“Well, maybe I can make it easier. Maybe I’m better than the last person who did it.” She was back to sucking the life out of her coffee cup, and I could almost imagine that mouth on me—or her killing me, more likely. “I’ll do anything, Lucas, anything.”
“I’d believe it,” I said in a hoarse tone. “Now, why don’t you go check my schedule and see if the reports from Bellevue Elementary have come in.”
“So I don’t get to help?”
“That’s you helping.” I seriously needed her to drop the subject before I entertained the idea. Her family wouldn’t just kill me; they’d burn me alive and invite the entire city of Seattle to watch.
“But—”
“Avery.” I stood. “Go. I’ll call you in if I need you.”
“Fine.” She stood too and hurried out of my office, and like a damn teenager, I watched her ass move back and forth until she sat down at her desk in the open space across from the door to my office. I immediately gripped the edge of my desk as a familiar awareness washed over me.
It had been four years since I’d last seen her, but it felt like yesterday.
She should have zero effect on me.
And yet. She did.
More than any of the women I was currently seeing. And she’d done nothing but threaten and yell since she walked in.
I was in deep shit.
I needed to get laid. Tonight.
Avery stretched her arms over her head. Apple-sized breasts pushed forward, stretching her blouse’s neckline and revealing an enticing amount of cleavage.
The hell with that—I needed to get laid over my lunch break. And I wasn’t even a breast man per se.
I quickly grabbed my phone and scrolled through the options. I typically weighed the pros and cons and had a very strategic way in which I picked girls, but I was desperate.
I chose one I’d enjoyed a few times—she was technically a substitute, and I hadn’t decided if I wanted her in the regular lineup. Avery leaned over to pick up something off the floor, the leather pants tightening across her ass.
I couldn’t call fast enough.
Nadia answered on the second ring. “Lucas Thorn.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah—Lucas Thorn, whatever. “Hey, what are you doing for lunch?”
“You,” she whispered.
“That’s all I needed to hear.”
Chapter Four
AVERY
Lucas Thorn was a sickness.
A darkness that never left.
He was a rutting bastard.
He was still—unfortunately—gorgeous.
With big hazel eyes and chocolate-brown hair that curled around his ears, a strong chin with a cleft in it, and a wicked smile that probably killed nice little old ladies with heart conditions—he was the devil himself.
My stomach clenched.
It sucked, watching your hero turn into someone you hated all within the span of minutes—seconds, really.
Four years ago, he’d walked out of our lives. He hadn’t just dated my older sister—he’d been a part of our family. A huge part.
They were high school sweethearts. Homecoming king and queen, prom royalty, the quarterback who won state and the cheerleader who held his hand afterward.
It made someone like me—a more bookish, slightly nerdy girl—insanely jealous, because if you looked up “American dream” in the dictionary, Lucas Thorn and Kayla Black would have been the definition.
Until the day which shall not be spoken of.
With the estranged jealous psycho sister who I only saw on holidays.
He’d destroyed my family.
And I hated him for it.
Almost as much as I hated Brooke for allowing it. I’d wanted so badly to blame her instead of him.
He’d been so protective of me. Seemed so . . . perfect, in every way.
And now I was angry, not just uncomfortable and nervous but so angry that energy poured out of me. I channeled that anger into my work. I answered emails, called the schools that Lucas needed to visit in the week ahead, and went over the new marketing brochures.
And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
Coffee was helping—but I imagined that my productivity was generated more by the adrenaline coursing through my veins because Lucas was mere feet away. As if sensing his presence, my heart rate sped up like I’d just taken a shot of caffeine through an IV.
If anything, I expected to start hovering over my desk Red Bull–style, any minute, and I’d sprout legit wings and have to explain to everyone why the new girl didn’t use chairs.
“Hello.” A heavily accented feminine voice interrupted my psychotic daydream. I wiped my mouth, just in case I had coffee dripping down to my chin, and glanced up.
She had long, wavy hair that went on for miles; it was brown and silky, and I had the sudden urge to cut it all off and superglue it to my own head—yeah, I needed to lay off the coffee. I scooted my cup away and folded my hands on my desk.
“Hi, how may I help you?”
“You.” She pointed at me and giggled. “You are so young and small to be working at big office.”
“Oh, well, it’s Bring Your Daughter to Work Day.” I winked. “You know, Daddy’s so proud and all.”
“Oh, this makes so sense!” I think she meant to say “so much sense,” but her English wasn’t that great. Alrighty then, moving on. “I need
to see Lucas Thorn.”
The way she said his name made me want to throw my coffee in her face. She was dreamy and seductive, everything I wasn’t, not that I could even try to compare myself to someone like her.
“Who should I say is asking?”
“One of his girls.” Of course, now she would wink—it was a condescending wink, one that made my hands twitch. “He’ll let me right in.”
Alarm bells went off in my head as my stomach clenched. “One of his girls,” huh? Sharon? Sharie? The pregnant lady had warned me, but I was afraid to ask for details—and now I was too curious for my own good. With shaking hands, I picked up the phone just in time to see Lucas stroll out of his office, give the woman a smirk, and hold out his hand.
“Lucas Thorn.” She said his full name. Again. Like he wasn’t aware he had a last and a first. “You’re looking good.”
“So are you, gorgeous.” He winked. “Shall we?” He led her into his office and then, much to my dismay, closed the blinds and shut the door.
Well, that’s completely not helpful.
I tapped my pen against the desk while I waited for them to finish. Ten minutes later . . . and nothing.
Though I did see movement—not enough to know what was going on but enough to be even more curious about why the door needed to be shut.