Page 40 of The Vengeance You Crave
"Great. Can I go now?" I ask. I know I'm pushing my luck and if I'm being honest with myself, I'll be disappointed if he says yes and lets me walk out before discovering exactly what he has planned for me.
In a move I wasn't expecting, a smile twitches at his lips before it splits right across his face. It's the most beautiful sight, even with the anger still darkening his green eyes.
"Can you go now?" he repeats before laughing. It's so light and happy that anyone overhearing might think I'd just told him a joke, although I think to him, I just did. "Sure," he says, taking a giant step back. His eyes remain on mine as he tucks himself away, but he never does his fly up as he continues to back away. "You can walk out of here right now if you plan on leaving town, taking your lying, filthy mouth with you, and never show your face again."
My lips part to argue, to tell him that I can't do that but it seems I don't need to.
"But you won't, will you? You've got a loving boyfriend waiting for you at home. That is who I saw welcome you back the other night with open arms, right? Where is he now, huh? Do you think he has any idea that you've just had my cock in your mouth? Do you think he'd be happy to know that you put up zero fight about it?"
I want to tell him that Elijah isn't my boyfriend but I have a feeling that even if I tried, he wouldn't listen to me. He only wants to believe what he wants. That I'm a liar and a cheat. The reality is that I'm neither.
"I'm not leaving town, Luc. And not because of him."
"No? Because of who then… me?" he spits.
"Oh yeah, because you've been so warm and welcoming," I deadpan, wrapping my fingers around the bedsheet hanging at my waist, ready to cover myself up. I barely lift the fabric before he notices.
"Strip."
"What."
"You heard me."
"But I just…" I look down at his crotch indicating what I just did and he laughs.
"You think that was it? You think all of this is all over because you gave me one half-decent blowjob?"
My chin drops but I don't have any words.
He walks back until his legs hit the edge of the couch, then he drops down, swiping the vodka he brought in with us from the coffee table and twisting the top. He spreads his legs wide and tips the bottle to his lips, swallowing down a generous amount and ensuring I focus on the muscles in his throat rippling as he does.
"Now," he says, finding my eyes once more. "Strip."
"Luc, this is insane," I try to argue.
"Okay," he says, getting comfortable for the show. "Then tell me the truth. Tell me that you're a lying cunt and apologize for what happened."
My teeth grind at his demand because he knows full well that I'm not going to do that.
"I didn't lie, Luc," I hiss, although I don't know why I bother because if he didn't believe me then, why would he now? The only way to prove it is to… no. I refuse to even consider the option. Luca hating me, torturing me, is better than allowing him into my life and revealing the truth.
It'll hurt him, sure. But he's not my biggest concern anymore. There's someone else who's more important who doesn't need his world to be flipped over once again.
He stares at me, his face void of emotion. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his cell and after a second, the sexy beat of a Rhianna song fills the space.
Lifting the bottle, he tips it toward me. "Go on then. Show me how you earn your money."
"I'm not a fucking stripper, Luc."
He quirks a brow.
"Or a hooker," I add, knowing exactly what he's thinking.
"No, you just walk around with your nipples out for any asshole who cares to look. Your boyfriend must really fucking love you to allow you to do that. If you were mi—" He cuts himself off, preferring to drown the unspoken words in vodka instead of letting them hang between us.
"Yours?" I ask with a laugh. "If I were yours?"
His brows pull together as he studies me.
