Page 96 of The Obedient Lie
Phones were out. Eyes wide. Conversations hushed. But I didn’t give a damn.
What mattered—what made my chest burn with something closer to pride than anything I was used to—was that she wasn’t looking atthem.
She was looking atus.
I slid my fingers into her hair, slow, careful not to tug. That headache she’d been complaining about earlier, I knew what it was from that stupid tight ponytail they made her wear for the uniform. Looked gorgeous, sure. But the thought of her needing to take painkillers just to handle it.
Made my jaw tighten.
“You eaten yet?” I asked, my hand still resting firm on her waist.
She didn’t answer. Still dazed. Still caught between the taste of our mouths and the heat pressed around her.
Luca’s fingers skimmed the back of her exposed neck, and I felt her shiver.
Then I saw them.
Thosepinkeyes.
Big. Glassy. A little wild. The kind she gave us when she wanted something but didn’t want to say it out loud.
I groaned, low and rough, and saw the way Luca’s breath hitched too.
She was wrecking us.
“Keep looking at us like that,” I warned, voice thick, “and we’ll take you around the corner, get you on your knees, and fill that pretty little mouth.”
Her lips parted. No sound. Just that sharp, shaky breath that told me she liked it.
No.Lovedit.
And the way her thighs shifted—just slightly?
Confirmed it.
“Might be doing you a favor. Could help with that headache.” Luca smirked, lazy and dangerous.
She blushed—real, deep, and fucking beautiful—and muttered under her breath, “Idiots,” before lifting her glassand taking a sip, like that would cool the heat we’d just poured into her bloodstream.
Luca didn’t let her get away with it.
He took the glass from her hand, holding it up to the light. “What even is this?”
She gave him a look. “It’s wine.”
He sniffed it, then shook his head in disgust. “Barely.”
As if that fifty-thousand-dollar bottle of wine she’d been sipping wasn’t good enough to touch her lips.
And I got it.
Iagreed.
He waved a hand at the bartender, signaling for something better. Actual liquor. The kind reserved for men with names that made people nervous. The kind that came out of hidden compartments and was only uncorked forus.
I leaned in, brushing her hair off her shoulder so I could speak directly into her ear. “Food. Did you eat?”
She shivered, barely, just enough for me to feel it.
