Page 41 of Mr. Not Nice Guy

Lucky pulls me hard against him and lifts his chin, his nose grazing the side of my neck. “Yeah.”

His lips part against my skin, and I tilt my head sideways to offer him my neck. His tongue strokes across the spot just below my earlobe before he nips and nibbles, and my eyes roll back in my head. A long breath drains from me as he kisses my neck hard and slowly, his hands untying the knot in my blouse and slipping underneath, and I close my eyes and get lost in the anticipation of coming completely undone.

Butthen, behind my closed eyelids, all my traitorous mind can think of is being in August’s apartment, andhimkissing my neck and cupping my breasts.

I can’t stop the moan that slips from my lips as a thumb circles my hard nipple and lips dance across my clavicle. All I can see is the emerald green of August’s eyes after they’ve darkened with lust, and I grip the neck of a man who’s not him, but this man’s name is suddenly miles away from my brain. I’m not even in this place anymore. I’m somewhere burning hot in the throes of passion with the man I can’t let myself fall for.

“Mmmmm…” I moan again quietly, and in the haze of my mind, I’m flat on my back, digging my fingers into the muscles of August’s shoulders while he cages me with his forearms. I’m so lost in the memory of that first night that I’m on the cusp of climaxing.

A deep masculine growl rumbles against my neck while a hand squeezes my breast, tweaking my nipple in a way that causes that delicious pleasure-pain electricity to shoot through my body, and I can’t stop the words.

“Oh God…yes…August...”

My eyes fly open. The hand on my breast and the lips on my neck freeze. Then I slowly lower my eyelids shut again in a desperate wish that I could just disappear into Lucky’s fancy oriental rug.

In totalgentlemanfashion, Lucky removes his hands and fixes my shirt, and somehow, him being such a gentleman about my faux pas makes it all the more mortifying.

“Oh my God.” I’m still on his lap, but I turn away from him. “I am so sorry.”

“Hey, Scarlett.” Lucky catches my chin between his forefinger and thumb and turns my face to make me look at him. His expression is as easy-going as it’s been all evening. “It’s okay.”

“It really isnot.”

An easy smile tugs the corners of his mouth. “It really is.” He releases my chin while his opposite hand does a firm, friendly rub on my back. “To be perfectly honest, I kinda got the impression that you two got a little something going on with each other beyond the whole manager-talent relationship. He was a little too territorial for a guy who’s just managing you.”

I shrug one shoulder. “There’s actually nothing going on with us other than a lot of bickering.”

“Now, that’s not true, Scarlett.” Lucky shoots me a wink and lays his hand on my lap, then gives the top of my thigh a rub. “If that was true, he wouldn’t be all up in your head like this. If nothing was going on, he wouldn’t be in here either,” he adds, lifting his hand to lightly tap my sternum with his index finger.

My shoulders sink. “Please don’t tell me that.”

He chuckles and grasps both of my shoulders, pulling me toward him so he can kiss my cheek. “Ain’t love funny?”

I groan as I shift and slide off his lap. Fooling around with him for the sake of getting my mind off August is obviously not going to happen now. “Please don’t usethatword.”

Lucky stands up before I do and offers his hand to help me stand as well. Instead of letting go, he draws me close, wraps his arm around my waist, and starts leading me through a swanky dance while he croons the song, Love is a Many Splendored Thing.

I tsk and swat his shoulder. “Now you’re just picking on me.”

He laughs heartily and kisses my forehead before releasing me. “I never pick on people. But I am a bit of a wise guy sometimes.”

“You are that.” I wink at him and saunter toward a maroon, velvet loveseat across the room and plop down on it while I reflexively pick up my phone off the vintage cherry wood coffee table. “I hope my embarrassing faux pas hasn’t changed your mind about doing a set with me,” I say, gesturing at him with the phone.

He cocks his head and presses his palm against his chest. “I would be offended at myself if I did that.” He slips his hand into his inside jacket pocket and produces his sterling silver cigarette case. Removing a cigarette, he slips it between his lips and then tilts the case, offering me one, which I decline with a shake of my head. “I’m still planning to give August a call next week to arrange it.” After lighting the smoke, he takes a drag and then waves his hand through the air. “And you can rest assured I’ll keep your so-calledfaux pasbetween you, me, and a lamp post.”

I smile, settling back against the cushion and crossing my legs. “You’re a good guy, Lucky.”

Taking a long, slow drag, he dips his head at me, and I absently glance at my phone.

My stomach drops like a stone.

I have five missed calls from Antoinette, but no voicemail or text messages.

“Oh fuck,” I mumble.

Lucky says something that doesn’t register in my hearing as I call Antoinette back with shaking hands.

“She had a massive stroke,” is Antoinette’s greeting, and I nearly slide off the loveseat. “They’re working on her right now, but you need to get to the hospital as quick as you can.”

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