Page 19 of Prettiest Little Thief
I waved goodbye to him with my free hand. “It was nice meeting you,” I called out before Lucas closed the door in my face. “Hey, that’s not very nice.” I frowned at him as he continued to pull me down the hall and to the coat check to retrieve his jacket.
Lucas removed his arm from mine as he tipped the worker. “I’ve been called a lot of things, Monroe. Nice is not one of them.”
Chapter Eleven
Monroe
Lucas’s grumpy demeanor didn’t lessen the rest of the night. He was closed off the entire car ride back to his house, and he disappeared the moment we stepped inside.
Not wanting to ruffle his feathers further, I strode to my own room and changed into my matching alien pajama set, readying myself for bed. After sliding beneath the sheets and expecting to fall fast asleep with how tired I was, the overwhelming thoughts of what we needed to do tumbled through my mind. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to push them from my head, which worked. To an extent. Until the thoughts of the night and how Lucas was so attentive and touchy snuck in.
The heat that I had suppressed started to come to the surface again, and every thought of his touch, no matter how insignificant, brought back the pounding pulse between my legs. I slid my hand to my pajama bottoms. Maybe if I gave myself an orgasm, I could get rid of the maddening thoughts of the jerk who was somewhere in this ridiculous mansion.
No.
Just no.
There was no way I could give him the satisfaction of thinking of him while getting off. Even if he would never know about it.
I threw the sheets back and pushed my feet into my slippers before trudging to the door. I needed to take a walk. Needed to get those dirty thoughts to go away. A walk to get ahold of myself was just what I needed.
The house was quiet as I approached the grand staircase. But by the time my foot hit the bottom step to the main floor, I could hear music. It stopped me in my tracks, trying to determine where the sound was coming from. I turned to the right, quietly tiptoeing toward the heavy rock music.
The walls vibrated and the bass thrummed through my body with how loud the volume was set. I recognized the song. Atreyu’sBecoming the Bullblared through the speakers. If Lucas was the one playing it, my shock would literally kill me. He definitely didn’t seem like the Atreyu type.
The song was coming from behind a closed door, but with my interest entirely piqued, I turned the handle and cracked it open an inch. Pressing my face to the small opening, I peered into the room. Mirrors lined the walls and more workout machines than I had ever set eyes on were lined up perfectly. But what I saw next had me nearly stumbling back.
Tattooed skin.Baretattooed skin. Lucas’s shirtless form showed the chiseled, hard muscles of his chest and back. Black gym shorts hung low on his hips, and my eyes wandered over his trim waist. Tattoos almost completely covered his entire torso.
And he… he was sohot.
I could practically feel the drool dripping from my mouth as I watched his body as he lifted weights. The muscles of his biceps bunched and tensed, sweat dripping down his spine, over the intricate shading and lines of the expert ink etched into his flesh. His sandy blond hair hung messily over his brow. Such astark contrast from hours before at the masquerade when his hair had been perfectly styled.
I was wrong before. So incredibly wrong. I thought Raf was a beefcake daddy. But Lucas… holy mother of God… Lucas wasthebeefcake daddy of all beefcake daddies.
A hand gripped my bicep, and I jerked back, accidentally slamming the door and tripping over my own feet. A shrill shriek left me as Fox glared down at me.
“What were you doing, Roe?”
“Being a creep.” My voice was barely above a whisper. His answering laugh sent a rush of embarrassment through me, and my cheeks prickled with heat.
The door of the gym swung open, and I was face to face with Lucas. The concern on his face dissipated after he laid eyes on me, his expression, unreadable. “What the hell are you two doing outside of the door?”
My words were stuck in my throat. Sure, I’d admitted to Fox that I was spying on Lucas, but telling Lucas was a completely different story. My eyes inadvertently slid over his chest, my mouth hanging open. In the center of his sternum, a tattoo of a realistic heart with a dagger piercing it was marked into his skin, among a plethora of other images in ink covering him.
“I asked a question.” Lucas’s deep tone caused me to jump, and my eyes went back to his face.
“I was… I was looking for the kitchen. Fox scared me, and I tripped. I ran into the door,” I explained.
Lucas’s penetrating stare went to Fox for verification. The fear of Fox tattling on me dissolved the moment he said, “It’s true.” I sagged in relief, and Fox released my arm from his grasp.
“I just really needed a glass of water. I’ll go get that now.” I threw my thumb over my shoulder and slowly backed away from both of the men.
Spinning on my heel, I took three steps before Lucas’s booming voice stopped me. “Monroe.” I looked back at beefcake daddy. “The kitchen is this way.” He pointed in the opposite direction I was headed.
Fox rolled his lips, trying not to laugh. I stormed past both of them with my head down, my dark hair covering my face.
Moments later, I found the kitchen, where I hopped up onto the chair that was at the counter, holding my head in my hands.
